by Juniper Hart
There’s no way some stranger is going to waltz his way into the office and replace Ortiz, she thought, no matter how attractive he might be.
“Oh… he’s sexy, is that it?” Ortiz demanded. “That’s what this is about.”
Hazel thought her head might pop clear off with embarrassment, and she was glad they weren’t on a Skype call.
“No! I don’t know!” she yelled and wished the floor would ingest her. “Why are you asking me about him?” Ortiz was quiet for a moment before speaking again.
“Wow… well, good for you,” he chuckled. “I was starting to worry about your lack of a sex life.”
“What?! Don’t talk about my sex life, Ortiz! I never ask about yours!”
“Penny has moved me onto the couch. I’ll let you guess how my sex life is going. That’s how I can tell when someone isn’t having any.”
“Andrew!”
“I’m just saying, a little sex never hurt anyone, Carrington. I always had high hopes for you. Considering you’re the best-looking agent I’ve ever seen, I guess I was living vicariously through you. Imagine my disappointment when I learned you’re married to the job, too.”
“Okay, I so have to go,” Hazel snapped, pausing at the balcony doors and twirling a strand of hair nervously around her fingers. Her eyes narrowed as she stared out into the parking lot below. Directly under her balcony was a truck parked in a visitor spot. There was nothing about the vehicle itself which caused her alarm, and yet Hazel couldn’t stop staring at the dark blue hood for some reason.
“Carrington? You still there, or did this talk of normal adult relations scare you off?”
“I’m still here—unfortunately,” she answered. “Listen, I’ve got to get ready for an appointment. You’ll keep me in the loop, yes?”
“Sure. Good luck with the sexy special agent,” Ortiz chirped.
“Shut up, Ortiz.” Hazel ended the call and remained at the balcony doors, staring at the truck below. Why was she so drawn to it? There was absolutely nothing special about it.
Now I can just add paranoia to my list of growing problems. The inconspicuous truck is out to get me.
It was only three o’clock, and she wondered what she was going to do while she waited. She feared that she might spend it staring at the innocent truck. A part of her wished she’d taken up Lev on his offer to join her.
Yeah. That would have gone over well, she scoffed at herself. ‘Hey, can you take me to the doctor? I’m probably suffering from a psychotic break. Do you think I’m beautiful now?’
The memory of his compliment filled her with unexpected pleasure, and she marveled at how he had turned her into a bumbling fool. It wasn’t just his dark good looks which had turned her into putty. There was something much deeper than that, something she didn’t understand.
She’d met her fair share of attractive men, both in and out of the job. For the most part, they had tried to dominate her, mistaking her delicate fairness for weakness, but Hazel Carrington was anything but submissive. She had earned her place at the big boys’ table, even if it hadn’t made her the most liked person in the Bureau. She was still respected, and that was all that mattered.
Except for those times when she wanted to be seen as a woman, not some ball-busting bitch who needed to be crude to be heard.
Oh, well. You can’t have everything, Hazel reminded herself. The minute you let your guard down, you’ll be stomped all over, just like when you were a kid.
And there it was. The door she had promised never to open. This was the reason she didn’t let herself spend time with her own thoughts.
She gritted her teeth and turned away from the window. Suddenly, she needed a shower. Thoughts of her childhood always made her feel dirty.
And you wonder why you’re having a mental breakdown.
Hazel was ushered into the doctor’s inner office right away, and she toyed nervously with her hands as she waited for Dr. Whitby to enter. As she had suspected, there was no one in the waiting room, almost all the interior lights off. The receptionist had booked her in after hours. It was both unnerving and reassuring.
What am I going to say to him exactly? Hazel asked herself, thinking about the history of the memory loss. She thought back to where it had started, that strange day she’d woken on the side of the road, confused and disoriented. I’m not telling him about that day.
“Hello, Hazel.” The older man entered without knocking, and Hazel offered him a tight smile.
“Doctor.” Dr. Whitby consulted his files in a slightly befuddled manner, like he didn’t quite remember who she was. That was what she got for only going to the doctor when something was wrong.
“Rebecca told me that you’ve had memory loss. Is that true?” he asked.
“I’m not sure what the hell it is,” Hazel answered honestly. “I mean, yes, I’ve lost hours, but when I wake, I’m home, dressed, in bed.”
Except for that first time, she recalled. She ignored the urge to talk about the first time. It didn’t matter now.
The doctor’s eyes shadowed with concern. “When you wake up, are you groggy, like you’ve been drugged? Sluggish?”
“No. I wake up like normal. I just can’t account for several hours.”
Dr. Whitby frowned. “Do you drink? Do drugs?”
“I drink a couple of glasses of wine a week, if that,” Hazel said, “and no, never drugs. I’m subject to random drug tests at work. I was never big on any of that stuff, even in college.” She realized she was rambling, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her nerves were fraying with each question he asked. Dr. Whitby made a note in his file.
“Have you ever gone to the hospital following one of these episodes?” Hazel shook her head and hung her head.
“Honestly, it’s only happened a few times, and I don’t feel hurt or… I don’t know, anything. It’s not like I’ve been attacked or drugged or whatever. I’ve been under a lot of stress at work over the last year. It’s probably got something to do with that.”
“You’re an FBI agent, aren’t you?” Dr. Whitby asked, consulting his notes again.
“I am. I’m actually on the Werewolf case,” Hazel explained, suddenly feeling the urge to justify her mysterious symptoms. “So you can imagine how much extra that takes out of me.”
“Well, that can’t be pleasant,” the doctor agreed. “And you’re right—stress can manifest itself in many ways. Memory loss can be caused by many things, so we’ll need to run some tests, rule out neurological issues—”
“Like a brain tumor?” Hazel questioned. Dr. Whitby chuckled dryly. She didn’t understand the humor.
“Why is it that people always go right for the brain tumor?” he asked, and Hazel gaped at him.
“Because they happen?” she offered, unamused.
“Let’s not jump the gun on that, all right? Let’s talk about other symptoms. Are you eating well? Sleeping well?”
It was Hazel’s turn to chuckle. “Again, I’m an FBI agent running point on a prolific serial killer. So no, no, I’m not.”
The physician frowned. He patted the table for her to sit and put a stethoscope in his ears to listen to her heartbeat after she climbed up. He pulled the cord from his ears and set up the blood pressure machine. Hazel looked at him expectantly. His face remained impassive.
“Well?” she asked when he didn’t speak. “What do you think?”
“Everything sounds good, but that doesn’t mean something physical isn’t happening that I can’t see from here.”
“So what do you suggest?” Hazel insisted impatiently. “With all due respect, doctor, I don’t really have time to sleep it off or whatever you might suggest. There is no vacation time when a serial killer is out there and I’m running point.”
“I wouldn’t imagine there is,” Dr. Whitby conceded. “But there are some things you can do, even if a beach and cabana boy aren’t in your future.”
Why did Hazel’s mind shift back to Agent Kirk again when he said that? She
wasn’t so sure it wasn’t a brain tumor. “Such as?”
“Well, you should start with a better diet and regular sleep,” he instructed. “In the meantime, I’ll order some bloodwork and an MRI. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
Tell him about the voices, she told herself, how you thought you could hear Lev’s thoughts. Tell him about the first time you woke up with a memory lapse, covered in blood but unhurt and in a gutter.
Her instincts won out, though, and Hazel said nothing of the sort. She didn’t know why she didn’t want to tell him about the first incident, just that something was holding her back.
“No,” she replied. “That’s all I can think of for now.”
Maybe that first time you hit your head, and it all stemmed from there, Hazel reasoned, but it was something she had considered before. But, that happened eight years ago. Why would symptoms start showing up now? If that was the case, they’d find whatever damage was done in an MRI and she could bring it up then.
“I wouldn’t worry for now, Hazel,” the doctor said. “There’s nothing we can do until the tests come back, but I do want you to stop driving.”
“What?” she choked. “No! I love driving! I have to drive when I’m in the field.”
“Surely you have a partner? For a case like this,” Dr. Whitby said. “There must be dozens of you on the Werewolf’s case.”
“T-that’s not the point!” The point was, giving up driving was akin to giving up her freedom. Hazel could almost hear Lev’s smile when she bequeathed him the keys. How was this happening? She felt like she was losing everything.
“Hazel, think about how many people you could be endangering if you’re driving around and you have a blackout. You’ll never be the same if you injure someone on the road.”
She ground her teeth together and nodded curtly.
“You’re right,” she muttered begrudgingly. With her luck, she’d do exactly that.
“Do you live with anyone?” Dr. Whitby continued.
“No. Why?”
“Because I don’t think you realize the severity of what’s happening here. I would feel much better knowing that you have a husband keeping an eye on you.”
Hazel blushed. “Nope. No husband.”
“You should have someone checking in on you, at least,” Dr. Whitby sighed, writing on his notepad. “This is a prescription for a sleep aid. I suggest you take it to balance out your sleep cycle. If you’re sleepwalking, these will keep you in bed.”
Her jaw was almost on the floor. Every word he spoke made matters worse.
“I can’t take sleeping pills! What if I get a call in the middle of the night?” Hazel protested. Dr. Whitby’s lips pursed, and she could see he was unmoved by her argument.
“This is your health we’re talking about, Hazel,” he said. “If you don’t take care of yourself, how are you expected to take care of other people? That’s the number one rule in life.”
Stifling a groan of frustration, Hazel accepted the paper and rose from her chair, trying not to seem ungrateful. He was only giving her his professional opinion. She couldn’t get angry at him for that.
“I’ll have Rebecca set you up with your lab work and get back to you,” the doctor told her. “In the meantime, please do your best to avoid stressful situations.”
Oh, is that all? Gee, thanks, Dr. Whitby.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Hazel replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone. If the doctor heard, he didn’t seem to notice.
“Hazel, memory loss shouldn’t be taken lightly. Even if it is only stress, it’s a very serious form of stress. Your body is warning you to slow down. Things might get much worse before they get better.” That was a sobering thought, and Hazel nodded, lowering her eyes.
“All right,” she mumbled. “I understand.”
“I hope so.” She shuffled out of the inner office, feeling exactly like a reprimanded child, and she didn’t raise her head again until she was in the parking lot. Pausing to inhale deeply, she sank back against the building and considered what the doctor had said.
My entire job is stressful. That’s basically in the description. I can’t quit it. What do they want me to do? She willed herself to take the doctor’s advice. There’s nothing I can do until I know for sure. There’s no point in agonizing over it now.
But what if there was a problem, one which required her to quit her job? What else could she possibly do? All she’d ever wanted to be was in law enforcement. Could she work in an office job? No, the mere idea made her shudder.
Suddenly, her eyes fell on a dark blue truck parked in the corner of the lot, and her heart began to race. Was that the same truck that had been at her building? It was difficult to say, since she wasn’t staring down at it now, but as she pushed herself off the wall to amble toward it, the vehicle suddenly drove forward and zipped out of the lot before she could make out who was driving.
It’s a coincidence. You’re stressing yourself out—the minute after the doctor told you not to. Stop it.
But as she made her way back toward the car she wasn’t supposed to be driving, Hazel couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching her all day long.
Don’t flatter yourself, she thought angrily. You’re not that special.
5
What is she doing at the doctor?
It was a question that plagued Lev all through the evening, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to approach his mate and demand to know what was going on. In fact, he had remained outside her apartment unit until the night security guard had come and ordered him to leave at midnight. There was no point in staying outside the building, not when it was clear that Hazel wasn’t going anywhere for the night unless they got a call from the office.
How could he have missed that Hazel had been unwell? It meant that he hadn’t done his job of watching out for her as well as he should have, and it filled him with regret.
That changes today, he vowed the next morning as he made his way into the field office. To his surprise, Hazel wasn’t there.
“Where’s my partner?” he demanded of Castillo, who shrugged.
“Running late,” he replied with a nonchalance that bothered Lev to his core.
“Is that normal for her?” he asked, and Castillo grunted in response, which told him nothing of relevance.
I should have gone to her place first and made sure she was okay. But before he could return to his garage and do precisely that, Hazel wandered into the office, seeming slightly dazed.
“Good morning,” Lev offered, rising from his newly-appointed desk. “How were your personal errands?” She eyed him warily but didn’t respond as she took her spot at her own desk nearby. “So, what’s on board for today?” Lev asked, refusing to be ignored. He needed to know why she’d visited the doctor the day before.
And if she doesn’t tell me, I’ll just have to visit the doctor himself.
He had a distinct feeling that gaining Hazel’s trust was going to take more work than he had initially realized. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
“Paperwork,” Hazel replied shortly, bringing him back to the present. “It’s been piling up.”
Lev blinked at the response and noted how she glanced at her cell like she was expecting a call. From the doctor, maybe?
“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” Lev reminded her. “We should be in the field, chasing down leads.” Slowly, Hazel raised her blonde crown and glared at him sullenly.
“If you want to go out into the field, Agent Kirk, don’t let me stop you. I have a mound of information to add to the system, which isn’t going to get there by itself. Maybe you dumped things on your assistants in DC, but here, we’re hands on.”
He gaped at her in temporary amazement, wondering how she could act so stoically cold when he was sure she could feel their connection. Hazel didn’t strike him as the type to play hard to get, but she was deliberately brushing him off, as if she was
genuinely not interested in him.
The idea was stunning. Could it be that simple? She just didn’t want him? Was he wrong about her being his mate?
In over the four centuries he had been on the planet, Lev couldn’t think of a time when he had second-guessed himself more.
“Are you just going to stand there gawking at me all day?” Hazel snapped irritably, and Lev inhaled deeply.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, bracing himself for another rash of angry words. To his surprise, she tipped her head up and stared at him, a slight desperation apparent in her eyes.
“Aside from the fact that there’s a serial killer on the loose?” she retorted. Suddenly, she exhaled, her face softening. “Sorry,” she apologized, as if she realized how irrational she was behaving. “I’m exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping well. I shouldn’t have barked at you.”
“Have you seen a doctor?” Lev asked, jumping on the opportunity as it presented itself. Hazel’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s all part of the job,” she mumbled, turning her attention back toward her computer. “It’s basically in the fine print of our contract. No sleep and no social life.” Lev chuckled, but his mind was whirling.
“Still, it can’t hurt to get checked out. I know it’s mandatory in DC. We have to go annually.”
Hazel paused and looked up at him again. She studied his face for a moment, her jaw twitching.
“I went yesterday,” she confessed, and his heart skipped a beat. “He prescribed me some sleeping pills, but I can’t take them. I’ll miss important calls.”
“Is that all that’s wrong?” Lev pushed gently. “You just can’t sleep?” Instantly, Hazel got defensive.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, squaring her shoulders. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got your back in the field.” Lev would have laughed if he wasn’t so concerned about what else was on her mind.
I’m not the one who needs protecting, he thought grimly. She cast him a sidelong look, and Lev realized she had read his thoughts again.
“I’m not asking because I’m worried about my back,” he said softly. “I’m worried about yours.”
