He stiffened. “That’s bad. Were you caught on video camera?”
She shook her head. “And I was wearing a coat and my hair was tucked under a cap. I’m sure no one saw me until I started to leave and then only for a minute. It could still be okay.”
He shook his head.
“Yes, it will.” Her lips tightened. “I’ll make it work. No one’s going to call the police. Sanborne doesn’t want to call attention to anything out of the ordinary at the facility.”
“But they’ll be on the alert now.”
She couldn’t deny that. “I’ll be careful.”
Jock shook his head. “I can’t allow it,” he said gently. “Maybe MacDuff has infected me with his sense of responsibility. I killed my personal demon years ago, but I pointed you in the right direction to get Sanborne. You might never have found him if I hadn’t led you to him.”
“I’d have found him. It would have just taken me longer. Sanborne Pharmaceuticals has facilities all over the world. I would have checked every one of them.”
“And it had taken you eighteen months to get that far.”
“I couldn’t believe it. Or maybe I couldn’t accept it. It was too ugly.”
“Life can be ugly. People can be ugly.”
But Jock wasn’t ugly, she thought as she gazed at him. He was perhaps the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. He was slender, in his early twenties with fair hair and features that were completely remarkable. There was nothing effeminate about him, he was totally masculine and yet that face was … beautiful. There was no other way to describe it.
“Why are you looking at me?” Jock asked.
“You wouldn’t want to know. It would offend that manly Scottish pride of yours.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “I had a patient last night whose name was Elspeth. That’s Scottish too, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “And did she do well?”
“I think so. I hope so. She’s a sweet little girl.”
“And you’re a good woman.” He paused. “Who’s trying to avoid an argument by changing the subject.”
“I’m not arguing. This is my battle. I pulled you into it to help me, but I’m not going to let you run any risk or accept any guilt.”
“Guilt? Lord, if you’d thought it through, you’d realize how silly that is. My soul must be as black as hell’s own cauldron by now.”
She shook her head. “No, Jock.” She bit her lower lip. Lord, she didn’t want to say this. “I appreciate all you’ve done but maybe it’s time you left me.”
“That’s not going to happen. We’ll talk later. Good day, Sophie.” Jock was heading for the door. “I promised to pick up Michael from his soccer game this afternoon, so you don’t have to bother if you’re tied up. Get to bed and try to sleep. You told me you had a one o’clock appointment.”
“Jock.”
He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s too late to try to rid yourself of me. I can’t have you killed. I’m being entirely selfish. I have too few friends in this world. I seem to have lost the knack. It would hurt me to lose you.”
The door slammed behind him.
Dammit, she didn’t need this reaction from Jock. She should have kept her mouth shut about being seen. She knew how protective he could be. And she should have sent him away after he’d taught her what she needed to know. He’d said he was being selfish, but she was the one who’d been selfish. Having him here to keep an eye on Michael when she had to work late had been a blessing in itself. She’d felt terribly alone and Jock had been a comfort. But she had to force him to go now.
She’d find a way to protect Michael. Go to bed. Go to sleep. Then go back to the hospital, where she could keep herself busy doing what she’d been trained to do.
Help people, instead of planning to kill them.
This book is dedicated to Helen Johansen, who gave her love and warmth and very special grace to all of us.
BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN
ON THE RUN
COUNTDOWN
BLIND ALLEY
FIRESTORM
FATAL TIDE
DEAD AIM
NO ONE TO TRUST
BODY OF LIES
FINAL TARGET
THE SEARCH
THE KILLING GAME
THE FACE OF DECEPTION
AND THEN YOU DIE
LONG AFTER MIDNIGHT
THE UGLY DUCKLING
LION’S BRIDE
DARK RIDER
MIDNIGHT WARRIOR
THE BELOVED SCOUNDREL
THE MAGNIFICENT ROGUE
THE TIGER PRINCE
LAST BRIDGE HOME
THE GOLDEN BARBARIAN
REAP THE WIND
STORM WINDS
THE WIND DANCER
About the Author
IRIS JOHANSEN, who has more than twenty-seven million copies of her books in print, has won many awards for her achievements in writing. The bestselling author of The Ugly Duckling, And Then You Die, Long After Midnight, The Face of Deception, The Killing Game, The Search, Final Target, Body of Lies, No One to Trust, Dead Aim, Fatal Tide, Firestorm, Blind Alley, Countdown, and On the Run, she lives near Atlanta, Georgia, where she is currently at work on a new novel.
The Beloved Scoundrel Page 37
