Cyrus: M.E.D.I.C.S.: A Steamy Instalove Military Medical Romance

by Pandora Snow

  "Dad?" she questions, as we stroll towards the elevators.

  Mr. Gates is on his cell phone, hanging up as soon as he sees me. He looks angry as he moves towards us.

  "What are you doing here, Cyrus? I've been trying to reach you for two hours. There was a break-in at the site. According to police, thousands of dollars in equipment were stolen."

  It takes him all of ten seconds to realize we were on a date, none of us smiling now. "Were you on a date with my daughter?" he asks in an accusatory tone.

  "Yes, sir. I'll wish Miss Gates goodnight and head to the site right now."

  "When the hell did this happen?" he asks, ignoring my words.

  "This was our first date, Dad. Why are you upset? Are you angry with me for dating an employee, or just upset about the break-in?" She's transforming into her confident CEO stance in case she needs to defend her decision further.

  "We don't mix business with pleasure, Lauralynn. I taught you better than that. Go upstairs. Cyrus and I need to meet with the police."

  I can't stand by and say nothing. My Dad taught me better than that.

  "Mr. Gates," I say before he cuts me off.

  "Stay out of this Cyrus; this is between my daughter and me. I'll meet you at the site in a few minutes."

  "No, sir, I haven't said goodnight to Miss Gates."

  "Go, Cyrus," she orders, the look in her eye a mixture of longing and sadness.

  Mr. Gates crosses his arms and nods to Lauralynn to walk to the elevator. She obeys.

  "Listen, Cyrus. She's a cute girl and all. I realize she dates. But company rules are strict to prevent industry secrets from being stolen. I hired you because the prior Foreman was caught in bed with my biggest rival. They were planning a hostile takeover."

  I spent four grueling years on high alert, looking for surrounding enemies. This is the construction industry, not an evil plot for world domination. His paranoid perspective is altogether off base.

  "Lauralynn has been targeted before. She's young, and she doesn't know any better. I don't want a repeat of the last man who took advantage of her."

  I open my mouth and immediately return my jaw shut. There are so many relationship issues to unpack between them; I'm unclear where to begin. His phone rings, and he waves me towards the door. His behavior and conversation are highly alarming.

  Before I fire the engine, I send Lauralynn a short text to apologize for leaving abruptly.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't able to give you a goodbye kiss. May I call you tomorrow?"

  The three little dots appear instantly.

  "Me too and yes. Thanks for your kindness and respect tonight, Cyrus."

  Knowing she was hurt in the past by a dishonorable boyfriend will ensure I abide by our mutually shared values. Lauralynn is special, alright. Forever special.

  "Goodnight, beautiful."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The blinding stadium lights illuminate the construction site. Mike is walking around with several printouts and a clipboard, hand counting the heavy equipment.

  "Are you the owner?" an approaching police officer inquires.

  "No, sir. I'm Cyrus Garrison, the company foreman. Mr. Gates will be here momentarily."

  "Who has access to the master gate keys," he continues in a professional, calm manner.

  "Mr. Gates, myself, and Mike Harrington. Are there signs of forced entry, or did you find the gates open?"

  He continues scribbling notes on his pad for a moment before responding.

  "We're simply gathering information tonight, Mr. Garrison. I'll leave the guesswork to the detectives." His response is irritating and frustrating.

  Mr. Gates arrives fifteen minutes later, as Mike and I tally the missing equipment costs. The officers requested video surveillance footage and a company manifest. My gut instinct tells me this is an inside job, the perpetrator calculating the perfect moment to strike.

  The spreadsheet of suspected stolen equipment spits out of the printer, one copy for the police, and one copy for Mr. Gates. He shakes his head and utters a few choice cursing nouns.

  "They stole almost a million fucking dollars of equipment. How is that possible? Don't you two verify every single piece of expensive machinery is locked?"

  "Yes, sir, we do."

  "Mr. Garrison, can you please provide your whereabouts this evening?" the officer requests.

  The pit of my stomach is tightening at the not so subtle implications. Lauralynn can unquestionably vouch for every minute of this evening. Even her father saw us together.

  "I went to Miss Lauralynn Gate's apartment at six pm. We stopped by my father's house for ten minutes and proceeded to Raven Rock State Park for an evening picnic. I returned her home at approximately eleven pm, where we ran into Mr. Gates."

  I don't see concern on Don's face. I do see a self-satisfactory smirk from Mike. My mouth remains shut, only speaking in response to direct questions. My intuition tells me there's a thief in the room, and it's not me.

  "Thank you, gentlemen, we'll be in touch." The officers return to their squad cars and vacate the premises.

  Mr. Gates spews out a few instructions before we all head home.

  "Harrington, I expect you to re-verify the equipment list first thing tomorrow morning. I'll have the security company investigated, in addition to the construction staff. Everyone's a suspect until proven otherwise. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Mr. Gates. We'll be extra vigilant over the next few days. I'll put out the feelers with the crew. If this turns out to be an inside job, perhaps I can persuade one of the accomplices to rat out the others. I'm sure we'll catch the thief."

  He's awfully confident, as if he already has someone in mind to blame for the crime. I hope to hell it's not me.

  "Goodnight," he says and leaves in a hurry.

  "Cyrus. Now that Mike's gone, let's have a man to man discussion. I have a hunch Mike's hiding some key facts about tonight's theft. My security company will be held accountable for their failure, but they couldn't have pulled this off alone."

  "Agreed, Mr. Gates. The surveillance footage should provide the evidence we need to nail the robbers." I breathe in deeply, relieved I'm not his primary suspect. Unfortunately, that's the good news.

  "You're to have no further contact with Lauralynn. I want her kept out of this nightmare and potential danger. As I mentioned earlier, my rivals will stop at nothing to annihilate my business. I would never forgive myself if she became collateral damage."

  Screw this! He's admitted he believes I'm innocent, his gunsight squarely on Mike's back. Yet I'm not allowed to date his daughter? Don't even get my started with his disrespectful, condescending attitude towards her. She's not an ignorant child; she's an intelligent, confident, insanely sexy woman.

  "If you trust I'm honest and respectful, which I am, I don't see the issue with us dating."

  "Don't fight me on this, Cyrus, or you'll regret your decision," he replies and walks out the door.

  My fist slams into the temporary trailer facade, nearly punching a hole through the drywall. This evening with Lauralynn was one of the best nights of my life. My mind may obey his direct order, but my body and heart are willing to take a stand. She's worth fighting for, so fight I will.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The cold metal chairs and the police station's stark white environment are devised to make the suspect confess. I'm waiting in a holding room to discuss the theft with the lead investigator. Mike was questioned this morning, telling me they don't have any evidence on anyone, yet.

  "Mr. Garrison?" a detective asks, walking in with two steaming cups of coffee.

  "Yes, sir," I reply, grateful for the caffeine fix.

  Sleep eluded me again last night, tossing and turning as my mind raced to make sense of the events. I replayed every word Mike spoke, looking for inconsistencies and clues to his guilt. More than the conversations were the awareness of his underhanded intentions.

  Mr. Gates also aroused my suspicion. His background i
ntel on Lauralynn's previous boyfriend and his paranoia regarding the competition was out of character. One or maybe both of them are covering up critical details.

  The anxiety I'm feeling in my heart is building to an unbearable level. I understand keeping Lauralynn out of these potentially criminal proceedings is crucial. I just don't know if I can break all contact. I think I'm falling in love with her.

  "I'm Detective Holden. Walk me through your whereabouts last night."

  "Of course." I recount the same information given to the prior officer.

  "Do you have any additional witnesses who can verify your location between six-fifteen and eleven?"

  Fuck. He's backing me into a corner, on purpose.

  "No, sir. As I stated, I was with Miss Lauralynn Gates the entire time."

  "To verify your story, I'll need to confiscate your cell phone. We'll need forty-eight hours to confirm the location data."

  This inquisition keeps getting worse. Contacting Lauralynn is out of the question now. Her father has security cameras in her apartment and her office. I don't care about losing my job nearly as much as I care about protecting her from further fallout. I don't have the heart to put her through a police investigation to clear my name.

  Detective Holden asks me a few more questions and releases me, mentioning to say in town. My head hangs low, my emotional energy spent.

  Having the light of my life at my fingertips, but being unable to touch, may kill me. Somehow, I'll find a covert way to show her I care.

  The Rib Schack is my favorite stomping ground. The squad and I meet here every few weeks to shoot the breeze and catch up on our quest to find the perfect forever girl. Since my blossoming relationship has been temporarily put on hold, I decide to keep quiet about our date.

  "How's Sarah?" I ask Ian. The fatigue in his eyes and body clearly evident. He's nursing an ice-cold beer, that's not right.

  "Great," he says underneath his breath, our attention diverting to Matthis.

  Three beautiful women are sauntering our direction. The lovely dark brown-haired girl fixated on Matthis' shocked eyes. She must be the girl he blushed over Tuesday night at Tinders.

  Snake perfectly executes a sarcastic conversation with Matthis, calling dibs on Matthis' girl. I break up the banter as they near our table.

  "We're about to find out gentlemen, here they come."

  Damn. The stars are aligning for these two love birds. Christine's glowing with desire for Matthis, Snake moving on to the available friends she introduced.

  I arrange three extra stools, and Snake orders another round of drinks for the table. Ian is feigning interest in a cordial conversation, but his mind is elsewhere. I make a mental note to contact him in a few days for a man to man discussion.

  The sudden scream for help jolts all of us to status red alert, Matthis already halfway across the room. We watch mesmerized as he expertly expels the tiny rib bone from the man's larynx, saving his life.

  Christine's hands are over her heart as she watches in awe, unconsciously professing her intimate feelings towards him. She bolts towards our hero, smacking him with a hot lover's kiss. I glance over at Ian, who's wiping a tear from his eye. I need to talk to him ASAP.

  Snake and I wind down the evening with the ladies after Matthis takes his woman promptly out the door. Ian throws a few bills on the table and bids us goodnight.

  "Snake," I say in a hushed voice. "Can I borrow your phone?"

  "Be right back," I smile, politely excusing myself and walking outside.

  I fire off a quick text to Lauralynn, letting her know I'm on Snake's phone and to please answer my call.

  "I miss you," I blurt out as soon as she answers.

  "Me too, Cyrus. What's going on? My Dad has imprisoned me in my apartment for a few days, forbidding contact from anyone, including you."

  How can I respond to her question while keeping her from the facts?

  "The police are investigating the equipment theft last night. They confiscated my cell phone, that's why I haven't called."

  "Do they think you're involved?" she asks, her voice bleeding concern.

  "Everyone's a suspect. Unfortunately, all I can do is remain alert until more information becomes available. I'm sorry, Lauralynn, you shouldn't be involved in this headache."

  "But I can clear your name. I'll drive down to the police station right now."

  "Please don't," I say, my watering eyes halting my painful plea. I'd give anything to be with her at this moment. She's been taken advantage of by the men in her life, most grievously her father.

  The line is quiet, neither of us knowing the next step.

  "Are you breaking up with me?" she finally asks, my heart pounding uncontrollably at the very thought.

  "Never. You're the most beautiful, sincere, stubborn woman I've ever met. The only end in sight is my body joined with yours. Trust me to keep you protected until the case is solved."

  The soft crying I hear takes my breath. I'm about to screw this entire situation and drive to her when two police cars pull into the parking lot, Detective Holden stepping out.

  "Mr. Cyrus Garrison, you're wanted at the station for immediate questioning. Come with me please."

  "Cyrus?" I hear before the phone is removed from my hand by an assisting police officer.

  "That's mine," Snake angrily asserts, pacing towards the very public scene.

  "What's going on?" I signal to him with my eyes to retrieve the phone and finish my conversation.

  "I'll let you know," I reply, being escorted towards the squad car. I'm not guilty of this crime. Maybe they know who is.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Holy shit. This is a sting operation, and I'm the informant. Mr. Gates's development company is on the verge of bankruptcy. He orchestrated the burglary to collect millions in insurance cash. They suspect he was also behind embezzlement six months ago, but they need proof to charge him.

  My stomach and intestines are churning with conflicting emotions. Lauralynn is likely totally unaware of her father's illegal dealings. She'll be incredibly hurt if the detective's theory is correct.

  The bullshit story Mr. Gates gave me last night about his prior foreman may be one hundred percent false. However, in a sick, demented way, I see he's trying to protect her from paying for his sins. He must sense the vultures circling by cutting her off from society, especially from me.

  The engrained attributes our squad Commander in Iraq demonstrated remind me of my duty. A Commander is measured by his character and integrity. His job is to create a presence amount the troops, an unspoken demand of respect based on his personal actions.

  Additionally, he must think on his feet, solve problems, and create solutions amidst a crisis. I accept the lofty responsibilities of gathering evidence on Mr. Gates and Mike. I agree to complete this undercover mission, praying Lauralynn will forgive me if her father is charged.

  ***

  "Good Morning, Mike," I holler, inspecting the site with my coffee mug, just like usual. I painstakingly analyze every word in my head that needs to be said in an attempt to get one of them to divulge information.

  "Any update from the police?" he asks, marking a structural misalignment with his red pen.

  "Crickets, how about you?"

  "Same."

  "Mr. Gates is due here in an hour to ensure we implement additional surveillance measures with the valuable equipment. I'm certain we both verified the locks were secured."

  "Me too," he responds, continuing his detailed scrutiny of the frame.

  I pull my keys from my pocket to test the hefty generator lock.

  "Mike, my key doesn't fit, can I try yours?"

  He stammers for a brief moment, fishing through his pockets.

  "Shit, I left them on my dresser. I'll grab them at lunch."

  "Thanks," I reply, the first piece of evidence recorded.

  The morning is proceeding smoothly and on schedule, a city electrical inspector due in two hours to give final approval
on six homes. I hear Mr. Gates on the phone next to his car as I'm walking towards the trailer. Showtime.

  "Dammit," he curses, slamming the trailer door. I remain silent, busying myself with permit paperwork.

  "Good Morning, Mr. Gates," I say, briefly glancing his direction.

  "Do you have your keys on you?" he asks abruptly, extending his hand.