Marcus: The M Series, Book Three

by Ryanne Anthony

  “Have you girls signed in yet? I believe orientation begins in just a few minutes,” Thomas asked them, faking stern.

  The blonde responded and grabbed a black purse from the floor and held out to my future wife. “Here, Mariah,” she murmured.

  Mariah. Mmm. I do love that name. Something had to give with work because I wanted this beautiful woman.

  I picked up the pile of papers from the floor and moved to the other side of Adina. Mariah looked my way immediately, up and down, ever so slowly. I hardened again, watching that once over, and I locked my hands over my groin area.

  “Twinkie, Cookie, this is Dr. Adina Elliott, she may be an obstetrician here. Adina, these are my daughters I spoke about earlier,” Thomas proudly stated.

  They rolled their eyes at each other.

  “Ladies,” Adina murmured, venomous again.

  Fuck, is there any female on the planet she likes?

  A smile brightened her face and I stared, mesmerized. “Mariah,” she cooed, offering her hand.

  “Lisa.” She offered her hand as well. Adina limply shook them both. Axed.

  “And this is Dr. Marcus Ca–” Thomas started.

  I glared at him. Shit. He's going to ruin everything before it started. She can’t know I'm a new boss AND his new partner, yet.

  Thomas cleared his throat. “I mean, Dr. Marcus Alexander, the new pediatrician. They've come from the merger with Cannon Medical. Beginning next month, we will be The Harvey Reed Cannon Medical Group.”

  Mariah stepped back and I was a little disappointed. I was looking forward to touching her, feeling how soft she was and her hand was a good place to start; not the best but good.

  Lisa smiled, looking like her teeth were made of sugar. “Hello, Dr... Alexander. I'm Lisa Harvey. Pleased to finally meet you.”

  I shook her hand and smiled. “Thank you, Miss Harvey. Pleasure is mine.”

  “Lisa, please,” she replied. “This is my sister, Mariah Hollander.”

  I felt like a knife had been thrown in my heart.

  “Hollander? Are you married?” I asked then mentally kicked myself. I had no right to ask her that, but damn! PLEASE say ‘no!’

  She frowned a moment then spoke in that sexy, smooth voice.

  “No; Thomas is my stepfather.”

  I twitched again as I offered her my hand. “Very pleased to meet you, Mariah.”

  Mariah hesitated to shake my hand. I willed her to take it. I needed to feel her in any way; to see if the sparks I felt earlier were still there. Slowly she took my hand.

  There were sparks! Shit, I am in trouble!

  Her free hand shot to her neck and she rubbed it nervously. God, I want to do that for her... while we're naked.

  “Welcome, Dr. Alexander,” she cooed. I extended my index finger across her pulse and was pleased to find it racing.

  “Pleasure,” I murmured, hoping that sounded like a promise.

  She snapped her head up at me, giving me a pleading look. I gave her confirmation. Too soon, she snatched her hand from mine. I couldn't take my eyes from hers. We stayed locked.

  “Doctors Alexander and Elliott are engaged. I'm assured we will all be invited to the festivities,” Thomas informed them.

  Mariah shot me a wounded look and turned her head away. I silently begged her to look back at me. I missed her eyes, already.

  I felt a finger rub my cheek, then Adina's voice and a nudge broke my concentration on Mariah.

  “Absolutely,” I answered, having no idea what was the question.

  Lisa held Mariah’s hand and I felt a pang of jealousy.

  “We better go. I know the boss wouldn't want us to be late,” Lisa mused to Thomas.

  He kissed her cheek and smiled. “Damn right. Get out of here before I fire you,” he said with mock stern again. “Glad you're all right, Cookie.” He smiled then kissed Mariah's cheek. “Now get a move on or I'll fire you, too.”

  Fuck, I wanted to kiss her, too. Badly. And not just her cheek. Any and everywhere… all she had to do was point.

  “Right, Pops.” Mariah smiled and my heart somersaulted. She turned away. I swallowed hard. God, the ass on her…

  Fuck me, I really wanted that woman like no other, ever.

  Lisa smiled and led Mariah away. “Dr. Elliott, Dr. Alexander.”

  “Lisa. Mariah,” I murmured and watched as they walk toward the conference room.

  To my disappointment, Mariah doesn't look back. Well, I wasn’t too disappointed… I shook my head, thinking, ‘Fuck! I have to end this shit with Adina! And I need a goddamn drink.’

  We boarded the elevator and I pressed the ground floor button.

  “I just remembered I have another appointment, Thomas. Why don't you take Adina to Obstetrics and talk with her privately?”

  “That's fine, Marcus. I look forward to our chat,” Thomas agreed as the elevators opened.

  I walked out without another word and headed straight for my car. I needed to talk to my mother. She's the only one that gets me; that's always totally honest with me, no matter what.

  Chapter FOUR

  This May Be What Happened

  July 8, 2018

  Professional Matthew is a 180 from the everyday Matthew everyone knows. I'm glad I called him instead of the police. I stand aside, quietly watching him work.

  “I want the back door, the entire thing, dusted,” Matthew orders. “Dust the bulb over the human door at the garage and every fucking thing in the kitchen. Daniels, access the California Boards and get a copy of Marcus' prints and eliminate him.”

  “Just print me now. Can't you scan them in?”

  Matthew nods. “Fine. Take his prints. Daniels, where's Hunt?”

  “Hunt,” Daniels, a tall African-American man, barks. He's the same color as Rob, I note. And he looks awfully familiar. I've met him before, but I can't place where... unusual for me.

  “Hold.” Daniels turns to me, holding his ear. “Dr. Cannon, someone's here. He claims you called him and is demanding to enter the house. My people says he’s a blue-eyed, Caucasian male, and wants me to tell you, ‘Rockford.’”

  “It’s our brother, Joshua. Let him in.”

  “He's clear,” Daniels shouts.

  A woman, who’s Mariah's height and build but a shade darker than her, runs in wearing sweats and ball cap. Parker gives her cover ups for her feet, like we’re all wearing. Joshua enters behind her and freezes.

  “Christ! What is all this,” Joshua asks looking at Parker like he's lost his mind when he hands him foot covers, too. “Why did I need clearance to enter your home, Marcus?”

  “Mariah's missing,” I say quietly. Daniels finishes with my prints. “They're attempting to piece together what may have happened.”

  “Missing?” Joshua gasps and surveys the room. “You mean kidnapped?”

  I stare at him, unable to confirm verbally.

  He pales. “Jesus! Did you call Rachel? Mother?”

  “Not yet,” Matthew says. “After we try to figure this out. Go stand by Marcus and don't touch anything.”

  “No, of course not,” Joshua mutters, putting on the covers.

  Daniels approaches me as he speaks to the woman. “This is Dr. Cannon, Hunt. We need you as a stand in as we try to recreate his wife’s last actions in here. It may get rough. Do you or your husband have a problem with that?”

  “Of course not,” Hunt says quickly.

  “Neither do I, Daniels,” Parker says. “It’s up to her.”

  Richards approaches. “All right, Hunt, sit in the chair, as is. Don't move it. Mrs. Cannon is six months pregnant, so you should be well accommodated.”

  “Got it.” She goes to the chair with her arms raised, hands clamped to her head, careful not to touch anything. She can't get into it.

  “Who moved the chair,” Matthew yells.

  “I did, when I approached the table to move the milk. It was knocked over.”

  “Did you touch the milk?”

  I wr
ack my brain. “Not the jug, just the cap.”

  “Have you finished dusting the table,” Richards asks Daniels.

  “Yeah, and we got two sets of prints, but both were eliminated. It's clear,” a tech says.

  “Why? Who’s were they,” Richards demands, scowling.

  “Mrs. Cannon and a Rosa Colon, the housekeeper. Her prints are all over the home, as expected. Ms. Colon’s whereabouts have been cleared.”

  “Damn.” Matthew clamps my shoulder. “Marcus... how big is Mariah's belly now? Is there a pillow or something we can use that’ll give us a better way to simulate her last moves?”

  “Try some of the pillows in the TV room. I won't be able to be accurate without touching her.”

  “It's fine, Dr. Cannon. We’ll do whatever to find your wife,” Hunt says, her hands still on her head. She looks at Joshua. “Sir, will you grab my shirt and pull it back tightly so that Dr. Cannon can measure accurately?”

  Joshua nods. He rolls the sweat top and tightens it until it is flush to her skin.

  I walk over to her and lift my hands toward her sides and still. I haven't touched another woman since Mariah came into my life and I feel awkward and guilty. I turn away, grip the wall and lower my head.

  “Marcus, it's okay,” Matthew assures. “You're not doing anything wrong. Mariah will understand, if you tell her.”

  Parker steps in front of me. “Dr. Cannon, try to relax. Stacy is just a stand in and Matthew is right: you're not doing anything wrong. It’s just another way of helping us find your wife, and anything you do to aid that, is absolutely right.”

  I think on his words then slowly walk back to Hunt. I put my hands on the side of her waist and immediately remember holding Mariah that way before making love to her last night. I freeze as the memory shakes me to the core. I cross my arms tightly to my chest. She has to be all right.

  “Dr. Cannon,” Hunt whispers. “You're doing fine. Close your eyes and try to remember the last time you touched your wife, all right?”

  I solemnly nod. I had to do this.

  I put my hands on her sides again and close my eyes. I see Mariah in that gown, smiling at me as I touch her belly and I freeze.

  “Here. She's out to here now.”

  Parker places a pillow under his wife's shirt, as Joshua releases the back of it.

  “Do it again, Dr. Cannon. Close your eyes and feel again,” Hunt says.

  I close my eyes and feel. “Yes, that's exactly right,” I whisper.

  “Good,” Matthew says. “All yours, Parker.”

  “Right. Stacy, sit in the chair and prop your left arm up. No, not at the elbow... yes, like that. Dr. Cannon, when your wife eats cookies, does she dunk them in the milk?”

  “Yes. Repeatedly.”

  “Stacy make a dunking move.”

  Hunt dips her hand up and down in the glass. It’s exactly what Mariah does, every time.

  “All right, Brown. Go,” Parker shouts at the back door.

  A large man in black creeps in and freezes at the open door, inside taped footprints.

  “This is where he stopped, Dr. Cannon. I believe she surprised him because she was sitting in the kitchen. We are trying to act out where he may have touched, looking for prints or other clues. So we attempt to recreate the scene. Go, Brown.”

  Brown swiftly crosses the kitchen and puts a rag on Hunt's face. Parker counts. When he gets to seven, Hunt goes limp.

  “No, that's not right. Mariah would have fought,” Joshua insists. “Remember after the twins were born, all the women took that course? Where they learned to scream and use odd weapons: feet, fingertips, nails... She wouldn't have just sat there as he attacked her.”

  Remembering, I nod. “That's right! They sent out a tester after the graduate and Mariah really did a number on him.”

  “Do you know where that class was, sir,” Hunt asks.

  “Um... Victory. Yeah, on Victory,” Joshua says.

  “Ryan, that's Dawson's place,” Hunt says. “He's here, in the garage.”

  “Send in Dawson,” Richards yells to Daniels.

  A moment later, a light-complected African-American man enters the kitchen. “You need me, Richards?”

  Richards points to Parker and I look intently at Dawson.

  “I've met you,” I murmur, thinking. “Yeah, you're the guy Mariah beat up in the clinic lot. She thought you were attacking her for real.”

  He nods, shaking my hand. “Devon Dawson. I remembered her when I saw the picture during the briefing. She was good, learned quickly. What do you need, Parker?”

  “Dawson, quickly show Stacy how you taught Mrs. Cannon to fight back. She was sitting, we think, when she was confronted,” Parker says.

  Dawson walks over to Hunt.

  “All right, Hunt, plant your feet firmly, knees apart. If he steps into you, circle him and squeeze your ankles tightly and throw the top of your body to your clear side, hard. Try like hell to keep your ankles locked behind him. If you do it right, you will fall to the floor, taking him with you. Then kick, aiming in the groin area, and scream. If he stays from between your knees, reach up with both arms, in between his, push out and come back in immediately and scratch at his eyes, as close as you can get. Or bring your fingertips together like this and peck sharply, like a woodpecker. Or use the heel of your hand and push up, hard as you can. We'll try one. When I shout, stop. Ready?”

  She nods and takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

  Dawson steps back, and pulls his sweater cap over his face; only his eyes show. He comes at Hunt and puts his hands on her, she brings her arms up and hits him in the face with the heel of her hand and he shouts. Stepping back, he removes his cap, and reveals a reddening mark under his cheek bone.

  “Done! Okay, she's got it.”

  “How tall are you, Dawson,” Richards asks.

  “Six, even.”

  “Shit… Brown, were you watching?”

  I turn to where Richards is looking and am surprised to see Brown is an older man, the color of chocolate. With his build and agility, I thought he was my age. He has to be more like my dad's age.

  “I was,” Brown nods.

  “Let's try both scenarios. Stay out of her knees first, Brown, all right?”

  “Got it.”

  Parker starts again. “Okay, Brown position one. You, too, Stacy. Stand back, everybody. All right… ready, Stacy?”

  She nods, resuming her faux dunking.

  “Go, Brown,” Parker yells.

  Again Brown comes in and freezes. He crosses the floor quickly and places the rag on Hunt’s face. This time Hunt fights back, and reaches at Brown's face but doesn't touch it. The rag falls from his hands as he struggles to gain control of her. Brown's sweat runs down and hits his jaw and he wipes it quick and it flies to the middle of the window.

  “Stop,” Matthew demands. He walks over to Parker's laptop, and scrolls through pictures until he sees something that makes him freeze. He turns to the wall. Richards walks over to him as Brown steps to the side of Hunt and holds her hand while they watch Matthew and Richards as they quietly quarrel.

  “I’m right, Prick! Look at this, over here.”

  “Fuck,” Richards yells. “You are right, he's shorter. He must have big feet! Six-one, maybe. Brown is six-six. Anybody here six-one, six-two?”

  “I am,” Matthew says, as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Hunt, try to scratch me, for real. I mean really come at me, all right? My sister-in-law is a hard-ass and I know she fought like the devil himself came after her.”

  “Got it,” Hunt nods. “No problem.”

  “Parker, you all right with this? I’m going to attempt to get in this asshole’s mindset and set off Stacy.”

  “I get it, Matthew; it’s for a purpose. I’d only object if she did.”

  Matthew goes out the door and closes it behind him.

  “All right, let's try this again... Ready, Stacy,” Parker asks.

  “Yes,” she says, and faux dunks again.<
br />
  “Go, Matthew!”

  Matthew enters and freezes then strides over to Stacy, quickly. He gets the rag to her face and her left arm drags over and down and the glass tips over. She brings her arms up and knocks Matthew's arms away and the rag falls to the floor.

  Matthew grabs at her upper arms, determined to subdue her, but she frees herself again and scratches at him, landing just above his eye. Matthew brings his hand up to catch the blood before it rolls in his eye and flicks his hand just like Brown did. His blood lands lower, hitting the window sill.

  He gets a hold of her again, pins her, grabs the rag and puts it on her face. She continues to struggle, as Parker counts in the background and at count seven, she goes limp.

  Matthew lifts her into a bridal carry and swiftly walks toward the door, knocking the chair down in the same position as I found it earlier, when Hunt's feet hits it. As he turns, Hunt's feet hit the jars on the counter, knocking them over. He goes through the door and tosses her to the ground careful to stay close to the house and out of camera range then snakes around the house until he is out of sight.

  “Clear,” Matthew shouts from the corner of the house.

  “Checking,” Richards calls back, looking through the computer. “Clear!”

  Hunt immediately opens her eyes and sits up. Matthew offers her his hand. “Are you okay,” he asks. Hunt nods.

  We go back in the kitchen and I stand in front of the sink and grip it, feeling nauseous. Joshua grips my shoulder.

  “You shouldn't be in here, Marcus,” he says quietly.

  I turn back to the table. “I have to know what happened.”

  Hunt goes back to the chair, and Matthew stands to her right, watching the video with Richards and Parker, whispering. Finally, they nod at each other and Matthew turns to me.

  “Okay. Brown?” Brown walks over and stands next to Matthew. “Grab her forearms. Now slowly try to free yourself, Hunt. Stop. This is how we knew he was shorter. She can't get to him because of his wingspan; her arms just won't reach. He splattered his sweat on the window, just above where my blood splattered. But when I do it, let me Brown, my span is shorter, she scratches me deep, drawing blood. Techs found blood splatter on the window, too, in almost the same area as mine.”