Broken Heart 08 Must Love Lycans (10 page)

My internal alarms were clanging, rusty to be sure, but certain all the same that my too-good-to-be-true situation was closing in on me. For a fraction of a second I considered bailing without Damian, but I dismissed the idea. I couldn’t leave him—and no matter what the motivation for that decision, I had to follow through.

I took a deep breath, strode through my apartment, and with a confidence I didn’t feel, I whipped open my front door. I plastered a smile on my face and stepped through. Relief shuddered through me as I realized no one awaited me in the hall.

I was too tightly strung to wait for the elevator, which would deliver me only one floor down anyway. I took the stairs, trying to steady my nerves with inner pep talks. When I reached the hallway where my office was located, I felt slightly more in control.

As I strode toward my office trying to look as though it was just another day at work, the realization sunk in that the clinic had cameras all over the place. That’s why no one needed to be in the hall or anywhere else—no doubt someone in the control room had been observing me from the moment I stepped out of my apartment.

And yet no one approached me.

Maybe they were expecting me to act as if nothing had happened. As I reached the locked door of my office, it occurred to me that perhaps I wasn’t supposed to remember anything at all. Maybe they had hoped that whatever Dr. Ruthers injected into me wiped out my memories.

Or warped them.

Huh. Everything I believed to be true could be part of my illness’s crazy dreamscape. Had I actually awakened from a rough bout of the flu believing hallucinations created by a fevered brain?

Dear Lord. Was
I
crazy?

A quick gut check told me to stay the course. I used my key card to open the door and went inside. Everything was as tidy as I’d left it, which calmed my tattered nerves a little. I flipped on my computer, which hummed to life instantly. If the date was correct, then I’d been out of it for four days. It was also late afternoon and that meant my chances of getting Damian out of the facility were lessening by the minute. I needed the activity of the place to hide our escape.

I heard a gasp and I looked up to see Mari standing in the doorway her hand flattened against her chest. She looked ashen. Her reaction certainly did not reassure me.

“Hello, Mari,” I said. “Are you all right?”

“I … um, yeah. We were told you were really sick. Mr. Dante mentioned he might have to seek a specialist.”

“For the flu?” I asked.

“The flu!” She warbled an unsteady laugh. “The way he was carrying on, we all thought you were dying of some horrible disease.”

“Mr. Dante was carrying on about me?” Genuine surprise threaded my tone.

She shrugged. “Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. He was worried, is all. And here you are looking right as rain.”

“I feel very well,” I said. “Although I thought I might head to the cafeteria for a bite. Would you like to go with me?”

I had invited Mari to take breaks with me before so the request wasn’t out of the ordinary. Still, I couldn’t help but think suspicion lingered in her blue eyes. I opened my shields, just a little, to get a read on her emotions. Her concern was real enough, but it didn’t seem to be attached to me. Beyond the warmth of that feeling, I felt the chill of her wariness.

I rose from my desk, noting the key card in her hand. She had intended to come into my office and had been shocked to find me in it. I couldn’t imagine Mari doing anything wrong—at least not before I caught her in Damian’s suite. Before today, she’d always emanated sincerity. Her change of behavior made me wonder if I had managed to misjudge everyone in the clinic. She watched me carefully, and I had to resist the silly urge to jump up and scream, “Boo!”

“Could you hand me that book?” I asked. “The one on schizophrenic disorders. You see it?”

Reluctantly, she turned toward the bookshelf behind her and studied the embossed titles on the bindings. I slipped my key card off the desk and into my pocket.

“None of these seem to be about schizophrenia,” she said.

“Really?” I edged disappointment into my tone, and stood up. “Where on earth did I put it?” I joined her at the bookshelf and studied the tomes. “I know it was there. I remember looking for it when I started creating Damian’s treatment plan.”

I was close enough to her that I felt her stiffen, and then seemed to force herself to relax. Her gaze slanted toward me. “You think he’s schizo?”

“Mari,” I chided.

“Right,” she said on a sigh, “slang is inappropriate when talking about the conditions of the patients.”

“You know, I think you’re the only one who paid any attention in that meeting.” I smiled down at her. “I really need to check on Damian before we eat. I’m starving, too. Do they have chicken salad today?” I turned as if to go toward the door and made sure our shoulders connected. I rammed into her so hard that she staggered backward. The key card in her hand, which she’d obviously forgotten about, went flying. I hadn’t wanted the poor woman to fall down. I clutched at her arm, while she stared at me with wide eyes. Did I imagine the fear that flickered in those blue orbs? Well, that was a first. Startled by the idea of anyone being afraid of
me
, I let her go abruptly. “I’m such a klutz. Forgive me.”

“No problem. Really.”

I didn’t think she was aware that she’d taken a step back from me, apparently trying to create distance between us. Even though I was fascinated by her fearful actions, I pretended not to notice. “What happened to your key card?” I asked. “Oh! There it is.”

I heard her mutter, “Shit.” But before she could compete with me in trying to get it, I scooped hers up with one hand and retrieved mine from my pocket. When I returned, I handed her mine. “I’m terribly sorry. I feel like such a dolt.”

She snatched the card and shoved it into her front pocket. The cards were assigned to individuals by codes embedded in the magnetic strip that only Jarred and Sven understood. There was no other identifying information on them. Jarred explained to me that he didn’t want anyone careless enough to lose their card to have it returned to them by merit of a picture or a memorized number. Basically, it was his way to make sure everyone was very, very careful about what he gave to them. Anyone who lost their card was immediately fired. And here I was tricking Mari into giving me hers. At some point when Sven saw me via video feed slinking around the wrong places, he would revoke my access, so I needed someone else’s. I felt a smidgen of guilt, but I ruthlessly tamped it down. Mari had worked here since the day the clinic opened. If Jarred could forgive anyone a single transgression, it would be her.

“I’ll have to skip the chicken salad today,” she said. She was striving for jovial, but missed the mark entirely.

“Oh,” I said. “All right, then. Tomorrow?”

Her smile was too bright. “Sure. Absolutely. Look forward to it, hon.” She hurried out the door and didn’t look back.

I didn’t take the time to ponder her odd behavior. I couldn’t risk that she was trotting off to tell on me—for what, I wasn’t sure since she couldn’t know anything, but I wasn’t gonna risk it. Still, I had to act normal, so I straightened my desk, flipped off the computer, and locked the door, which was my habit when leaving my office.

It was time to rescue Damian.

And myself.

Chapter 4

O
nce again, I skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs. The induction cells were in the basement below the massive house. Even though the place was sparkling clean and the walls painted soothing shades of blue, it couldn’t quite the hide the dungeon feel of the place.

I wanted to pause by the stairs and look around for patrolling guards, but that would be too obvious. The guy monitoring the cameras might think it strange enough to report. So I strode down the secured hallway to the induction rooms as if I were doing nothing out of the ordinary. Mari’s access code would get me in now and out later, but only if I hurried. I couldn’t count on my game of switcheroo to protect me for too long. If we got trapped inside the clinic during a full shutdown, no one would get out.

I started walking faster, hoping that Damian was still in the same induction room as before. My pace faltered as I realized I hadn’t even bothered to check where he was located. He could’ve been placed in a suite by now, especially if he had regained his memory.

Damn it.

If he wasn’t down here, then I would have to return to my office and log in to the clinic’s server to see where they’d put him. I felt like such an idiot! I was in full-on self-chastisement when I rounded the final corner to the section where the hard-case inductees were kept.

I smacked into something solid and reeled backward.

“What the hell!” The words were uttered in a low, harsh tone. I gained my feet and looked up into the stony expression of a young man dressed in the black uniform worn by Sven’s security personnel. His eyes were as blue and icy as a glacier’s. He was tall and thickly muscled, but young—too young to be one of Sven’s usual recruits. However, he gripped a big, nasty gun and looked as though he might aim it at me.

Behind him, I saw Damian. He was dressed in a gray jumper and on his wrists were a pair of shock bracelets. He grimly assessed me, looking as though he’d hoped to never see me again. I have to admit, that hurt just a little.

“Patient transfer,” growled the man in front of me. “Please excuse us.”

“Um. Yeah. To me. I can take him from here,” I said, smiling. “And you can take off those bracelets. I’m sure Damian will behave.” I looked at my new charge. “Won’t you?”

Damian’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. He looked nonplussed, but he said nothing. I wondered if Jarred and Dr. Ruthers had tampered with him, too.

“You remember me, don’t you?” I asked.

His gaze went to the guard and he grimaced.

“I’m Kelsey Morningstone,” I said softly, the irrational seed of hurt lodged in my chest bloomed into dismay. He’d almost seduced me; then he’d broken into my apartment to claim me, biting me so deeply my neck would surely scar, and he didn’t know me. “Damian, I’m your therapist.”

The guard made a strange sound, and I glanced at him. His face was red, his eyes wide. He started to cough violently. So much so that he bent over to try to regain his breath. I felt solicitous for all of a second. Then I realized I was wasting a golden opportunity. I yanked the gun out of his hands and whacked him on the head with it. He fell against the wall and then slid to the floor, unconscious.

“Oh, my God.” I stared at the man and then swung my gaze to Damian. “That was easy.”

“What the hell are you doing?” he said, his tone furious. His eyes were as cold and shiny as emeralds.

“I’m rescuing an ungrateful idiot,” I responded hotly.

He gaped at me. Then I realized I’d lost my temper with a mentally ill man. With a
patient
. “Oh, dear. I do apologize. That was unconscionable.”

He snorted. Then he yanked the gun out of my hands. That’s when I noticed the shock bracelets were not actually linked together, much less activated. “I’m not insane,” he said. “And you are not the only one trying to rescue me,
Schätzchen
.” He leaned down and tapped the guard’s face. “Adulfo!”

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “How did he get in here? Why do you know his name?”

Damian didn’t respond. I wasn’t completely idiotic. I mean,
duh
. I’d obviously interrupted a much better planned effort to get my patient out of the facility. I was flabbergasted by this idea, especially if …
oh
.

“You got your memory back, didn’t you?”

“Ja,”
he said tersely.

As I dealt with this new information, I glanced at the man he was trying to shake into consciousness. How in the world had Damian managed to contact anyone? And how had this guy gotten inside?

“Are you sure you can trust him?” I asked.

“It is you who causes me worry,” he responded. “I trust my son.”

“Your
son
?” My stomach sank as I considered what I had done. Wow. I really knew how crash a party. Then I realized he’d expressed doubt about my motives. Well, I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t trust me, either. I peered at the man I’d knocked down, and frowned. “You don’t look old enough to be his father, unless you were ten years old when he was born.”

Damian glanced at me, amusement thawing the coldness of his gaze. “Perhaps we could discuss my virility at another time.”

The one he’d called Adulfo groaned, and his eyes rolled around in his head for a couple of seconds until he regained his mind. His watery gaze met mine. He bared his teeth and growled.

I reared back, startled by his response.

“Nein.”
Damian tugged the man to his feet and handed him the gun. “A little human female knocked you on your ass. You’ll have to live with the shame.”