The Devil You Know Page 7

  Shaking off the thought, she pushed off the door and made her way through the dark room. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be interrupted, she gathered Rachel’s files from the cabinet. Hugging them tightly to her chest, she crumpled to the floor as the reality of Rachel’s death finally hit her with brutal force. Tears slid down her cheeks as she cracked open the first folder and began to read.

  Chapter Seven

  Blake pushed open the door of the stairwell and stepped into the darkened hallway, the corridor lit only by the faint red glow of the emergency exit sign hanging overhead. He stepped up to the frosted glass door of the office to his left and halted. Her office. For some undefinable reason, the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, anticipation and apprehension snaking through him. He shoved the feeling aside with a shake of his head. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but something was bothering him. Probably just the thought of Dr. Carr herself. The woman grated on his nerves, and every inch of this space reminded him of her. No matter how gorgeous she was, the woman was more frigid than the cool air flowing through the A/C vents.

  The healthplex was small and he’d spent the past two days becoming well-acquainted with the layout, searching out each small alcove and closet that could pose a threat. The building housed several private practices, all medical, but vastly different fields. The bottom floor of the building belonged to a group of dermatologists, including two elderly men that Blake was fairly certain should be taking medical advice rather than giving it. A married couple, Dr. Steven Gerber and Dr. Kate Winfield, occupied the second floor with their family medical office. Blake had met Dr. Harbaugh on the third floor and instantly taken a dislike to the self-absorbed man who considered himself a god of maxillofacial surgery, as well as Dr. Sosa, a neurologist on the fourth floor.

  Since Dr. Carr had barred him from her office during business hours, he usually roamed the lower portion of the healthplex and hung out with Benny in the security room until it was time to make his final rounds. He’d walked all four floors this afternoon long after everyone had closed up shop. This time of day was perfect for Blake, and he made his way through the building, blending inconspicuously from shadow to shadow. Here in the quiet darkness, he could focus better, play scenarios through his mind and search for any weaknesses in security. The final walk-through brought him up to the fifth floor and he stood now in front of her office, the door a barrier between himself and the woman who occupied the small space. He imagined the cool glass was much like the invisible barricade she used to shield her body, unwilling to allow anyone to get too close.

  Dr. Victoria Carr, Ph.D. was written across the frosted glass in gilded script, almost indistinguishable now in the near-dark, and Blake unlocked the door using the key Benny had given him. It swung open without a sound, granting him access to her inner sanctum. It amazed him, sometimes, that a woman so cold was in the business of helping people to sort out their emotions and address their vulnerabilities.

  He hadn’t seen her all day—not that he was watching for her, of course. It was merely an observation. He paused in the doorway, and the memory hit him with startling clarity. Benny had mentioned it this morning in passing, but it hadn’t even registered. Dr. Carr’s office had been closed today. He wished he’d remembered that sooner, he thought with a roll of his eyes. Then he could’ve come up here first thing this afternoon and gotten out of here a little earlier. Not like it mattered anyway. The only thing on his agenda was to head back to his little fixer-upper and chill alone in front of the TV. If he was really lucky, maybe he’d get motivated enough to do some work around the small house.

  His eyes swept over the lobby and, seeing nothing out of place, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The lobby was fairly spacious with large, comfortable couches and potted plants that made it feel more like a living room than an office. A couple of abstract paintings hung on the walls and a large window overlooked the city, the lights twinkling in the dark sky. He’d heard the glass was shatterproof because, well... just in case. He figured in this line of business more than one person had decided to take the easy way out.

  Directly opposite him was a short hallway. One door on the right, two on the left. And one directly at the end of the hall. Hers. It was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel—he didn’t want to venture closer, yet he couldn’t deny the pull.

  Stepping further into the room, his eyes swept the area. A door on the right led to the receptionist’s office and small kitchen area for employees only. A gentle jiggle to the handle confirmed that it was locked up tight, everything safe and sound. A restroom and a small closet graced the left side of the hallway and he opened each door, checking to make sure the rooms were empty, then closed them noiselessly.

  A muffled sound caught his attention and his ears perked up, listening intently as he walked toward Dr. Carr’s office, his tread silent on the industrial grade carpet. The door stood open, the room lit by the glow of the city lights spilling slim shafts of light onto the floor through the blinds over the windows.

  Pausing just outside the office, he pulled his sidearm from the holster at his waist and held it low in front of him. Craning his neck to see around the doorjamb, he searched the darkened corners of the room, watching for movement, listening for anything out of place. He knew someone was here—he could feel it. Every instinct on alert, Blake stepped into the room, simultaneously pushing the door open wide with his left hand.

  Gun trained, he swiveled toward the soft cry as the door collided with the tiny form curled up on the floor. Dr. Carr sat huddled against the wall, dozens of papers and a discarded manila file folder scattered at her feet. Legs drawn tightly to her chest, she lifted her head to regard him and, even in the dim light, Blake could see the glistening trail of tears running down her cheeks. He held her gaze for a long moment before she pillowed her forehead on her hands where they lay clasped over her knees.

  Son of a bitch. The woman’s tears filled him with a combination of fury and protectiveness. Fury at whoever had caused them and the protective instinct to want to swoop in and make things better. Staring down at the prickly doctor, he debated what to do. Maybe he should just turn around and leave. What were the odds that she’d accept his offer to help anyway? After all, she’d made it abundantly clear that she didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual.

  But shit, he couldn’t just leave her like this. After seeing her initial aloofness on the news after the murder, then being carved up by her scathing tongue at their disastrous first meeting, he hadn’t expected this side of her. Her posture spoke of helplessness and fragility like she bore the weight of the world on her shoulders. No one deserved that.

  Slipping the pistol into its holster, he took a step closer and squatted down beside her. “Ma’am?”

  A tiny hand shot out and shoved his shoulder, almost toppling him off balance as he rocked back on his heels. “Stop that! I hate being called ma’am.”

  She didn’t even glance up at him, but Blake smirked nonetheless. “Just a sign of respect, ma’am.”

  This time, her head jerked up, her moist eyes filled with fire as she glared at him. “We both know you’re full of shit. You don’t even like me. What do you want?”

  “Just making sure you’re okay.”

  She studied him a moment, her expression unreadable. “Why?”

  He raised his eyebrows at the ridiculous question. “You’re the doctor, you tell me.”

  He could almost see the chasm widen as her fiery façade cracked, her anger at him forgotten. Fresh tears filled her eyes and her head drooped, her words broken as she spoke. “She... she’s... gone.” Her head hit her knees, and her shoulders heaved under the force of her sobs.

  Goddamn it. Blake let out a beleaguered sigh and scooped the woman into his arms, cradling her close. Her face automatically burrowed into the crook of his neck as he strode to the couch adjacent to her desk and settled them in the corner. He tightened his hold on her, his free hand rubbing her back i
n small circles, making soothing noises as she cried.

  It was impossible not to notice the way her body curled into his as he held her across his lap. Victoria’s hourglass figure was infinitely more appealing than the stick-thin women who’d routinely hung out in the bars off base in hopes of catching a soldier for the night. The extra ten pounds rounded out her bust and hips, her soft curves a perfect contrast to his hardened muscles.

  Her bottom pressed into his groin and he shifted her slightly, his forearm brushing her breast as she cuddled closer. She felt delectable, and he wanted to run his hands over her, explore the sinful body she kept hidden under those shapeless suits. Instead, Blake curled his arms protectively around her and pressed the gentlest of kisses to her temple. A soft, heady fragrance wafted up to his nostrils, reminding him of vanilla frosting. Unable to resist, he brushed his nose over her hair, breathing in the intoxicating scent.

  They remained that way for several minutes, Blake lending silent comfort until her sobs slowly quieted to sniffles. He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin and coasted one hand down her spine. “You okay, Doc?”

  Her head bobbed against his throat and a small hand extricated itself from where she’d tucked it between them, palm up. “Tissue?”

  Blake glanced toward the small box on the corner of her desk. “Too far away, sweetheart. I can’t reach them without getting up.”

  She leaned away from him slightly and nodded, using the pads of her fingers to dab away stray tears under her eyes.

  He lifted the fabric of his shirt away from his chest. “Use my shirt, I don’t mind.”

  Victoria huffed a mirthless laugh. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Really,” he remarked dryly, “I insist. Not like it could get much worse.”

  Confusion lit her face for a moment as her gaze met his then dropped to his shirt. Her brows furrowed and she blinked several times. “Is that... purple?”

  Her tone was incredulous, and Blake smirked. “Company called it Royal Blue. Fucking heinous, is what it is.”

  “It’s just... so... purple.” A strangled sound escaped her throat, and Victoria covered her mouth with her hands, eyes dancing with mirth.

  He’d never heard her laugh before, and the sweet, breathy sound tickled his senses and caused a strange fluttering sensation in his chest. An answering smile curved his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, sweetheart.”

  Giggles finally under control, she flattened one hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh at you, but... purple is just so not your color. You’re too...” Her eyes flicked to his then dropped again as her voice trailed off.

  “I’m too... what?”

  Her fingers played with a button at the top of his shirt and she bit her lip before speaking. “Masculine.”

  Blake lifted a brow at her. He certainly felt it at that moment. Every primitive male instinct came to life when her bottom wiggled against him as she shifted her weight, and he bit back a groan. She felt too good splayed across his lap and, differences aside, their bodies connected in a way their personalities hadn’t. He was tempted to lay her back on this couch and ravish her, turn those heartbreaking cries of sadness into moans of ecstasy.

  His gaze swept over her face. Several long, dark tresses had come loose from her typically severe chignon, softening her features. One tendril curled down around her shoulder, dangling temptingly in front of him like forbidden fruit. Almost before he could stop himself, he reached out and fingered the silky strands. Victoria sucked in a sharp breath, and he froze. What the hell was he doing? Tucking the lock of hair behind her ear, he dropped his hand to his thigh and clenched it into a tight fist.

  Swallowing hard, he willed his arousal away. He couldn’t believe he was getting so turned on by a woman who, just a few days ago, had ripped him a new one with her Queen Bitch act. Not only that, he couldn’t afford to muddy the waters. This first new contract was a huge deal to QSG, and Con would kill him if he made a mess of things before they even got off the ground.

  He needed to get his shit together, get his mind off the woman in his lap. They had nothing in common, he reminded himself. Even so, he couldn’t leave her all alone. She was obviously broken up over something, someone, but she seemed the type to keep her emotions well-hidden. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been crying all alone on the floor of her office at nine o’clock at night.

  Blake tightened his hold on her waist. “Want to talk about it?”

  Victoria’s mouth turned down in a sad frown, her chest deflating and shoulders curling inward in defeat. “One of my patients. I couldn’t... it wasn’t enough.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “She just... gave up.” A second tear joined the first and he swept them up with his thumb. “I keep replaying our last conversation over and over in my head. Why didn’t I see it coming? Did I say something that caused her to...?”

  “Absolutely not.” His tone was fierce in his defense of her. “It’s hard to understand a person’s choices. It’s like the old adage about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. You may never know what happened. Some people can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. Giving up is so much easier than fighting. Trust me, Doc, I’ve seen it firsthand.”

  She nodded and swallowed hard. Clearly the woman’s death had affected Victoria deeply. It was clear to him now why she was always so restrained. If she allowed her emotions free reign, they would slowly destroy her. Instead, she kept them under lock and key, refusing to acknowledge them. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot, but from what he’d seen tonight, Dr. Carr wasn’t a bad person. Just the opposite, in fact. And now that he’d seen the woman underneath, he wanted to get to know her better, peel back the layers and find who she really was.

  “How often does this happen?”

  “What?” Her voice was cool, distant, but she knew what he was asking.

  “Your patients. How many of them just... give up?”

  Sadness seeped into her beautiful features. “It doesn’t happen often, thank God. But... you spend all this time getting to know someone and they become important to you, you know? It’s like losing a friend, except worse. Rachel depended on me to help her and I let her down.”

  Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, and Blake mentally cursed himself. Threading one hand into her hair, he wrapped the other around her waist and pulled her close. Her arms slipped around his back like a steel band and she burrowed into him, burying her face against his chest.

  Her body shook under the force of the sobs, and he held her until they slowly faded away. Several long moments later she peeled herself away and he brushed a stray tear away.

  “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Doc. It’s never easy to lose someone.” He swept his thumb lightly over her cheek, unable to break the connection between them just yet.

  “Thank you.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips, and he curled his fingers into the soft flesh of her waist. Her lips parted slightly as she closed the distance between them, and his heart sped up. God, he wanted to kiss her. He dipped his head, lips mere millimeters from hers—

  Shocked by what he’d been about to do, he jerked away.

  Her horrified gaze met his and she reared back as if he’d slapped her. “Oh, God! I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean—”

  “Doc—”

  He reached for her but she pushed off the couch and staggered awkwardly to her feet. “Just pretend that didn’t happen. It’s been a bad day and—”

  “Victoria.” Blake followed and settled his hands on her hips, drawing her to a halt. It was the first time he’d called her by name, but it sounded so good, so right. Her gaze remained glued to the floor, and he could practically feel the embarrassment radiating from her body. “Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, her eyes slowly traveled up the length of his body until they met his.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Her teeth cut self-consciously into her lower lip, and he pressed his fingertips into her lower back, gently easin
g her forward. “Come here.”

  Her feet shuffled forward until she was only inches from him, and he framed her face with his hands. “I want you, Doc, there’s no denying that. There’s nothing I’d like more than to lay you down on this couch and take this sweet, sexy body of yours.” Her cheeks flamed at his words, and she dropped her gaze to where her hands fisted in the material of his shirt. “But I can’t. Not while you’re upset. You’re hurting right now, and I don’t want to be another regret tomorrow morning.”

  He stroked his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Let me take you home. I’ll walk you to your door like a gentleman and leave you my number. If you’re still interested tomorrow, you can give me a call. Deal?”

  She gave the barest of nods and moved to stand beside her desk. Blake regarded her for a moment before striding toward the door. He could feel her gaze on his back as he bent to pick up the discarded files.

  “Oh!” The soft exclamation came from behind him as she rushed over to collect the forgotten papers. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Blake rose to his feet, his gaze traveling from the tips of her toes all the way up to her beautiful eyes. The mixed expression of mortification and discomfort clouding her face was too much for him. He stepped close to Victoria and lifted her chin, forcing her to make eye contact. Uncertainty swirled in the stormy gray depths and she shifted anxiously from foot to foot.

  “Do I make you nervous, Doc?”

  Her teeth caught her bottom lip. “Yes.”

  His hand slid over the curve of her hip and curled against her bottom, reminding him of all the dirty things he wanted to do to her. “Good. You’d be running right now if you knew what I was thinking.”

  Victoria’s hands slid up his torso and came to rest on his chest, fiddling with the lapels of his shirt. “What are you thinking?”

  “Do you really want to know?”