by Gina Kincade
Sighing, Shayne ran her hand through her hair. Who in the world fired the shot that killed Lisa Mae? She was just a little girl. A twelve-year-old full of vibrancy and love for skipping and running as soon as she got off the school bus.
Sadness filled her heart. She would never be able to make the girl’s heart beat again, but she could at least help find who killed her and give Lisa Mae’s family closure. Maybe. Anger began to bubble in her chest. Whoever fired the gun should pay. He took an innocent life.
Shayne wondered if the two FBI agents were also involved in investigating the cause of Lisa Mae’s death.
Treating patients in the hospital, dying or not, was better than finding a dead girl on the ground. She didn’t even get a chance to fight for her. Shayne had lost sleep over that horrible incident. Now, here she was again. Giving testimony to the police and FBI agents because of another shooting.
Do I deserve this, really?
What if the shooter had meant to kill her when Lisa Mae just happened to be close to her? If she had been the target all along, it would mean Lisa Mae died because of her. No, no. She shouldn’t think like this.
Damn, damn. What is going on?
Outside her apartment, there were still few people milling about. Most likely, eager to get more scoops about the gunshot, cop cars, that cool looking black SUV with police lights on the roof and numerous antennas parked outside.
She really didn’t have much to say to the FBI agents who interviewed her for hours except for exactly what happened. Sighing again, she picked up the magazines on her coffee table and stacked them up neatly, trying to think something other than the shooting.
A man in blue jeans and black leather jacket that had seen better days knocked on her door then walked inside her apartment. “Hello, Doctor Monaghan.”
Shayne felt like groaning, but whether she felt tired or not, she’d been trained to show everyone respect. “Hello.”
“I’m Rob Cross.”
“But you’re not just Rob Cross.”
Rob laughed. “I’m a supervisor, but we’re all the same. I’m sorry about what happened.”
“Me, too. Have a seat.”
Rob eyed her chair but opted to remain standing.
Shayne faced him. “Anything I can help you with, sir?”
Rob smiled. He had such kind brown eyes. “Been a long day answering questions, I know.”
“Yes, but I understand. Part of my job as a doctor is to give answers to officers about my patients. However, it’s somewhat different when you’re on the other end of the stick. Anyway, how can I be of help?”
“I just have a few questions about what happened today.”
Shayne smiled. “Couldn’t you just copy what I told the two FBI agents?”
“There is nothing to copy. They don’t take notes.”
True. Shayne didn’t see the agents write down anything or use a tape recorder.
“So what happened?”
“Other than that I was walking home when I heard two gun shots followed by the most horrible sound that I couldn’t describe, which I later on, I realized was my cello breaking?”
Rob nodded, his brows furrowed deeply. “What did you do?”
“I dove behind the garbage can and ended up having scraped knees. Didn’t hear anything while I was down. An elderly man who must have had heard the shots came to me and offered his hand. He asked if I was okay. As soon as I said yes, he took off. He looked afraid. Like me. Then, I ran to my apartment. I don’t know how I managed to unlock the door, but I did.”
“Have you noticed anyone hanging around here or have your phone been ringing constantly, but no one is on the other end of the line when you answered?”
“No to both.”
“No threats or anything like that?”
Shayne shook her head. “That’s why I’m surprised by all of this. I didn’t notice anything.”
Rob nodded again. “Thank you for your time, Doctor Monaghan. Please try to get something to eat. Looks like you need it.”
“Both agents from Seattle told me not to move because they weren’t done talking with me. I don’t know what else I can tell them. I sound like a broken record already.”
“I apologize. They were just doing what any other agents would do. Sometimes, victims forget important details. Shock, trauma, fear does that.”
“I understand.” The agent was right. She’d seen enough patients to know what a tragic incident could do a person’s memory. “But I’m seriously upset about my cello.”
“I’m sorry. Let me know if I can help with anything.”
“Thank you.” Well, this had been the shortest interview she’d had for the day.
As soon as Rob left, Shayne’s shoulders sagged. God, she felt tired. She needed a long hot shower to help ease the tension from her shoulders and maybe get this shooting out of her head even for a few minutes. Not sit and wait. Damn. Those two agents in their tattered looking jeans were just being intimidating to tell her to stay put. Of course, she could move from her spot.
She’d met a good number of agents in the hospital, but these two by far, were the most tiring of them all. And, yeah, very pleasing to the eye.
The tallest one who introduced himself as Agent Ty Cartwright looked in need of a haircut and a shave. He must be over six feet tall, wearing old faded jeans that hung around his hips. His shirt, partially tucked out looked like he slept in it. But boy, oh boy. He sure has that rugged-sexy look going for him. Shayne had a glimpsed of his tattoo by his neck. She wondered what it was. The ink added to his sexiness, but his best asset yet was his most indescribable bluer than blue eyes. Tired looking eyes, but seriously, they were so striking she couldn’t stop staring at them and forget the world. Which had been embarrassing really, because she had to ask him to repeat his question a couple times. Well, it wasn’t her fault. She bet the man knew how entrancing his eyes were, and yet, he stared at her for the longest time. Yes! Their gazes had been locked for so long, she could’ve counted his eyelashes. My word! The man is beautiful. Unfortunately, he had a manner of a barbarian.
Thankfully, he was now on his phone while the other agent named Grady Parks was busy smirking at the photographers and reporters.
Shayne glanced at the agents. Both oozed sexiness and yumminess. How could they not? They both carried guns and badges. However, Agent Cartwright seemed to be in command and had been scowling at her since he stepped foot in her apartment. He was the one who made her want to brush her hair, check if her breath didn’t smell like a day old broccoli, or see if her mascara hadn’t smeared all over her face.
Shayne glanced at him again. God, she must be really sex deprived to be drooling over an agent. Yeah, that was it. How else would she explain this insane feeling of wanting to rub her body all over that hotness? It’d been over a year since she last went out with a guy. A freaking long year! Now, her hormones were jumping all over the place. She gave the agent one more sweeping glance and felt that weird jolt in her chest again—a feeling most familiar among teenagers when they see their crushes. She rolled her eyes.
Well, it was this agent’s fault. Damn it, why did he have to wear those low rider jeans with tattered hems? They only made him look delicious.
Okay, now she was hungry for food and for this man. God, she needed to do something. Food. Yeah, she would have to find some. For sure, it would be okay with them if she went into her kitchen. It wasn’t like she would be leaving the apartment anyway.
Shayne stood up.
Agent ‘Sexy’ Cartwright glanced at her for a mere second and then went back to talking on his phone.
Sheez, here she was having heart palpitations over this agent and he couldn’t even look at her without glowering. Damn it. She shouldn’t even think about him. Instead, she needed to focus on the current issue. Like how in the world would she replace the cello. Buying a new one would probably cost her entire savings. Yeah, she’d been a doctor for two years, but that was just it. Only two years. And she
had a fat loan to pay. So, buying a new one-of-a-kind cello would probably reduce her to becoming a homeless doctor. Lord, she would probably have to eat pancakes every day until she resembled a Pillsbury doughboy.
****
Ty Cartwright watched Shayne leave the couch. He’d already checked the place. No one walked in and out of the apartment except for his supervisor Cross, who asked to talk to Shayne while he was on the phone with her dad.
He’d met Shayne’s father, Governor Monaghan, six months ago when she began working at Inpatient Rehab Center. The man was worried about Shayne’s safety, so he contacted Ty’s supervisor, Rob, and had someone assigned to watch Shayne twenty-four seven for at least a month. Rob simply gave Ty a picture of Shayne then instructed him to watch her without being seen. That was it and Ty did as instructed. He watched Shayne from afar, learned her schedule and habits. A month went by and nothing happened, his duty to watch Shayne then ended. But he’d kept her picture in his wallet.
He never followed her again. But every night or whenever alone, he would stare at her picture. Just because. He imagined them meeting for real, but not like this. Again, the job landed on Ty’s table with the same condition—Shayne mustn’t know that her father had requested to have her watched until the case was over. Apparently, the governor had made a promise that he wouldn’t interfere with Shayne’s life unless she asked for help. She wanted to start everything on her own. However, the old man hated the idea that his older daughter lived in North Carolina and not with him in Seattle.
Ty listened over the phone as the governor gave his instructions to his driver.
“Still there, Agent?”
“Yes, sir. Still here.”
“How is she?”
“She’s fine.”
“Good, good. God. My knees are still shaking. I asked how she is doing. Of course, she said she’s fine and no word of the shooting from her. That girl is so like her mother. Independent and wouldn’t do or say anything that might upset me. I should have kept a tail on her. Don’t know why I believed her that she’s safe. You sure, she’s okay? ”
“Yes. The only damaged done was to her cello.” He didn’t think it would be right to tell the governor about Shayne’s scratches. The man might have a heart attack. “Don’t worry, sir.”
“Thank you. And you’ll watch her, Cartwright?”
“I’ll do everything to keep her safe.”
“I don’t think I thanked you last time you watched her.”
“No problem, sir. Your daughter is a fighter, smart, and…” He wanted to add extremely beautiful but thought better of it.
“And?”
“…Extremely lucky.”
The governor sighed. “I know. She was born…not breathing, with a hole in her chest, you know. But somehow, she survived. Sadly, her mother didn’t. But before my Laura left me, I promised her I would love Shayne to death and keep her safe at all costs. And by god, that’s what I’ll do.”
Ty glanced at Shayne again. An insane feeling to keep Shayne away from harm had settled in his chest the moment he saw her picture. Now, he wanted to kill the man who tried to shoot her. Why? Well, he tried to shoot Shayne. This was a fact.
Fuck.
“I need to hear what’s going on there. Someone is trying to kill my pumpkin. Do everything, Cartwright. Find the man or woman. And you won’t have to worry about your future.”
“She’s in good hands, sir.”
“Good. You won’t regret knowing my daughter. She’s one of a kind. A precious jewel. She’s the love of my life, agent. See to it that she lives her life even after I’m long gone.”
Ty frowned at his phone. “I gave you my word.”
“Call me anytime.”
“Will do.” I won’t regret knowing his daughter. Well, damn. He was already regretting it. He knew she was enchanting, but up close—his cock hardened instantly. When she stared at him earlier, she drew him in like a freaking siren luring a fisherman. If he were a moth and she the light, he would’ve been fried by now. Shayne’s sex appeal was so strong that one look from her made his temperature rise. Which was so effing annoying. He wanted to concentrate on her case and not fantasize about kissing her. In all the years of working as an FBI agent, not one woman had this effect on him. Until Shayne. The fuck?
She’s a danger to my sanity.
Ty pocketed his phone, then looked for Grady. They needed to explain a few things to Shayne. Things that she most likely won’t like to hear.
****
The small partition dividing her main room to the kitchen provided her a little privacy. Irritated at how her day had turned out, Shayne grabbed an onion, a clove of garlic, ginger and green onions from the basket. She had the beef marinated in a Ziploc bag last night. She took it out of the fridge, open the bag, then dumped it into a clear bowl. It was only two in the afternoon. Ginger beef was supposed to be for dinner, but what the hell? Who said food should be served only for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?
Cooking always took the kinks out of her neck. She could practice playing her piece in her head, too, while doing it. It wouldn’t take long for her to prepare everything.
Burner turned on, she set the deep steel wok on top, sprits it with sesame seed oil, and then added the garlic and onions. A mouth-watering scent floated around her. While her ingredients were simmering, she began preparing her rice. The whole time she was cooking, her mind kept wandering back to the horrible event of the day. But a few minutes into her cooking, the shooting and the agents began to fade in the background.
Her stomach grumbled, reacting to the smell coming from the pan. Satisfied with the consistency of the vegetables, she turned off the burner, then grabbed a Pyrex bowl from the cupboard where she transferred the broccoli beef. Looking at the amount of food, it seemed she got carried away again. Well, she would just have to eat leftovers for a week. She picked up the bowl then turned around.
A short eeepp escaped her when she found the two agents standing just an arm’s length away from her with their eyes focused on her bowl as if they hadn’t eaten for ages. Agent Parks swallowed visibly while Agent Cartwright’s eyes narrowed as if he was ready to attack.
Shayne laughed. “Would you two like—?”
“Yes.”
“You bet.”
The agents answered simultaneously.
Agent Parks took the bowl from her hands, while Agent Cartwright planted his hands on her shoulders and then urged her to sit back on the chair she had occupied earlier. She heard her cupboards opened and closed. Then plates and utensils appeared on her table.
Wow.
“I only have diet pop. It’s also caffeine free.”
“Works fine for me,” Agent Cartwright replied in an almost a nice tone.
“You don’t get visitors much?” Agent Parks asked while shoving food into his mouth.
“Why do you ask?”
“You’re short on chairs.”
Shayne felt her cheeks grow warm, embarrassed they’d noticed and how sparse her apartment looked. But hey, she’d been working to pay the rent and bills. Not anyone else. “This is what I can afford.”
“You’re a doctor, yes?” Agent Cartwright asked with a frown then went back into the kitchen.
Damn. What the heck did she do to annoy this man? “I’m only on my second year of residency and still paying for my student loans.”
“Seriously?” Agent Parks frowned.
“Seriously,” Shayne replied. She noticed the two agents shared a look. Weird. What did they think that she was just a rich doctor who penny-pinched?
Agent Cartwright came back and gave her a glass of water. “Two years of residency, but you’ve done more than a dozen surgeries already.”
“Thank you. I have a supervisor that—”
“You’re only twenty four, right?”
“Right. I took advanced classes and—”
“Aren’t you too young to be practicing?”
“Are you questioning my qualifi
cations?”
Agent Parks chuckled. “We’re just wondering, that’s all. You look like you just graduated from high school and yet, you’ve operated on numerous hearts already.”
Shayne didn’t want to explain how she ended up facing the operating table years ahead of everyone else. She’d been teased many times about her brain. Now it wasn’t funny anymore, but annoying. “Other doctors have done more than me.”
“They’re not as young as you though. So, you’re a cardiac surgeon, right?”
Shayne stared at Agent Parks. “Cardiothoracic surgeon.”
“Wait. Is that different than a cardiologist?”
“Cardiologists will primarily diagnose disorders of the heart and treat them with medication. They don’t do open surgery. But they can perform interventions on the arteries in the heart through puncture wounds in the groin.”
Ty and Grady stared at her seemingly interested in what she was saying.
Feeling she had to expound more, she explained, “While general thoracic treats lung, esophagus and chest cancer or diseases, a congenital heart surgeon’s care for babies and children with holes between the heart chambers or abnormal connections within the heart. A cardiothoracic surgeon operates on diseases in the organs inside the chest and in the bony structures and tissues that form the chest cavity.”
“Meaning, you are three surgeon in one.”
“Something like that.” She didn’t want to talk about her job anymore, so she tried changing the subject, “Would anyone of you like to sit down? The couch is safe.”
“Don’t know about that. That thing nearly swallowed me whole earlier,” Agent Cartwright quipped while fixing a plate.
Shayne wanted to laugh imagining the agent getting lost inside her couch but she didn’t think the man would like anyone laughing on his account. So, she just smiled. “Well, I bought the couch at a garage sale. It serves its purpose.”
“What, eating a man whole?”
Shayne laughed. “That or sit on the floor.” Again, she noticed the men sharing a look. This time though, they were smiling.