by I. T. Lucas
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." She stepped out of the elevator.
"The cough?"
Bridget opened the door to her apartment and showed him in. "Take a seat. I'll bring refreshments."
He sat on the couch.
Still on a mission to teach him healthy eating habits, she'd prepared a tray of cut fruit and several small containers of nuts.
"How was your flight?" Bridget put the tray down and went back for the water jug.
"I can't complain. First class is first class. There is no other way to fly, especially when my clients are paying for it."
"I'm sure you can afford it." She sat next to him.
"I can. But old habits refuse to die. Growing up in a household where every penny counted, I still can't bring myself to spend that much on a plane ticket."
"Eat some fruit." She pointed to the tray.
"Yes, doctor." Victor lifted one of the forks and picked a slice of cantaloupe. "I see that you are still trying to convert me."
She lifted a brow. "Is it working?"
"I'm trying. But while I was away it was impossible not to indulge. Besides, my host would have been disappointed or even offended if I didn't eat what his cook had prepared."
"And when you weren't dining with your client?"
"I was a good boy and ate my veggies."
"I sort of doubt it."
"Whenever I could," he qualified.
Turner could be so charming when he wanted to. Was it all an act to disarm her? She had no doubt that he was capable of faking it. The only thing Bridget wasn't sure about was the intent.
"About your cough. According to your doctor, it was a lucky coincidence. The cough was unrelated to your cancer. It was probably an allergic reaction to the latest fires. But thanks to that cough, and the tests he'd run on you, he was able to discover the cancer at its very early stages. With treatment, you can expect a full recovery. They use the term remission in case it comes back, but you have excellent chances of getting rid of it for good."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're not saying that just to dissuade me from attempting transition?"
"Your doctor has told you all that. You just failed to mention it to me."
Turner smirked. "What can I say, can you blame me?"
"Yes. You don't withhold information like that. What were you thinking, that I wouldn't find out?"
"I needed time."
Bridget's temper, the one she always worked so hard on keeping bottled up, was flaring big time. "For what? So you can seduce me? So you can influence the little woman with a few orgasms? Come on, Turner. You should have known it wouldn't be that easy. I'm not some silly bimbette you can wrap around your little finger."
Fates, she was hyperventilating. Bridget pushed off the couch and started pacing.
Turner followed her with his eyes. "I know you're not a silly bimbette. You're one of the smartest people I know, and coming from me it means a lot because I meet a lot of smart people."
That cooled her down a bit, but not enough. "Than what was your plan?"
"Just to remind you, you were the one to seduce me."
"Ugh." She pointed a finger at his chest. "Don't you dare pull that one on me. I didn't hear you say no."
Turner lifted his palms. "You're right. That was uncalled for." He sighed. "I hoped that when you got to know me better, you'd realize that I wasn't rushing into it without giving it a lot of thought, and that my reasons were valid. That's why I needed time. Regrettably, that unexpected trip came along, robbing me of an entire week."
"Me too. I want that week back. My original two weeks are now three."
"Deal. I'll even agree to four."
That was a surprise. Or maybe not. Now that he knew she was onto him, he needed even more time to win her over.
Clever man.
What he didn't know, though, was that she was going to approve him anyway. She was just buying herself more time.
But to what end? So she could be even more heartbroken when he died?
It would be so much easier on her conscience if she could determine for sure that he wasn't a Dormant.
"I have more questions for you."
"Ask away."
"Did you ever feel like you knew what another person was thinking?"
"Many times."
Shit. So he did have special abilities.
He continued. "It's easy. I can teach you to do it. It starts with reading body language. Besides, most people are so simple-minded that I know what they are going to say before they do. My thought process is usually much faster."
Okay, so reading body language was a skill, and guessing other people’s thoughts required a fast brain and a certain level of talent but not paranormal abilities.
"How about precognition, anticipating future events?"
"I know the outcome of every mission."
"You were never wrong?"
"No."
That would definitely mean some precognition talent. No one could anticipate the exact outcome when there were so many variables involved.
He continued. "But my calculations always take into account the unexpected, and I allow for a margin of error. I’ve never been wrong within that margin."
That seemed like a logical explanation. Again, this was plain smarts, nothing paranormal about it.
"Have you ever felt like you've seen a place before, even though you were never there?"
"Like a déjà vu?"
"Not exactly. When you send people on a mission, and later they report what they saw, do you realize that you've visualized it exactly the way they saw it?" Remote viewing was one of the rarest talents, but she was determined to tick off any she could think of.
Turner rubbed his hand over his shaved head. "Yes and no. I study the maps and the satellite photos. I interrogate anyone who knows anything about the terrain or the building or whatever I'm dealing with. Once I'm done, I can find my way around the target area blindfolded."
Bridget let out a relieved breath. Victor was an extremely talented and capable man, and he could do what very few individuals in the world could. But none of his abilities were supernatural in the mystical or paranormal sense.
He wasn't a Dormant, just a super-human.
Chapter 32: Turner
For the first time, Turner was going to meet Kian in the guy's office instead of their usual place.
As he waited by the guard station, he wondered whether Kian worked underground like Bridget, or on one of the top levels. His information about the clan's operations stopped exactly where he was standing now. No one had been able to sneak past the security, and his hackers had had no luck either.
Given that Turner had been able to infiltrate government top secret departments, the security in this place was quite impressive. Especially since it was a civilian operation. Except, he had people working on the inside of various governments who'd owed him favors. He had no one inside the clan's hub.
Except for Bridget, but she was not easy to manipulate and would have caught on to any attempts by him to fish for information. He was already skating on thin ice with her.
She hadn't even kissed him goodbye when he'd left her apartment the night before, sending him home disappointed.
He'd taken care of his frustration to the image of her bent over her examination table, wearing nothing under her white doctor's coat and her wild red hair spilling in soft waves down her back.
Turner smirked.
He hadn't seen her in one of those coats yet, but when he did, he was going to enact his fantasy, provided he wormed his way back into her arms, which he believed he would. Bridget couldn't fight her attraction to him for long, and when she succumbed, he had a feeling she would be game for this. Hell, he was pretty sure she could teach him things he hadn't even imagined.
As if summoned by his imagination, Bridget emerged from behind the corner, regrettably sans the doctor's coat, and motioned for the guard to buzz him in.
"Hello, Victor." She ki
ssed his cheek.
"Hi." He wasn't sure whether she was invited to his meeting with Kian or not. Kian hadn't said anything about it when Turner had called him to set it up.
"I offered to escort you down," she said.
"Are you joining us?"
"Yes. I want to help in any way I can."
"That's good."
He wasn't sure about that. He'd expected to work with Kian or perhaps one of his men. Turner liked to keep things compartmentalized. Bridget belonged in the box that contained his quest for a cure through immortality and sex. She didn't belong in the one which dealt with the nasty business of modern-day sexual slavery.
It would be too distracting.
Like a super-computer that required a cold room to function at its best, Turner needed a calm mind to do his job well. Bridget's presence was sure to heat up his environment to an uncomfortable level.
As they exited the elevator and continued down the wide corridor, Turner counted the closed doors they were passing by more out of habit than necessity. He didn't expect any trouble.
Bridget stopped in front of a set of French doors, knocked on the glass and opened the way.
"Nice office," Turner said as he walked in.
A lot could be gleaned from someone's work environment. Kian had originally struck him as a control freak—the type of leader who didn't take counsel from anyone unless it was shoved down his throat. But given the large conference table that took up most of the available space in the guy's office, Kian was in the habit of conducting meetings with his people, which meant a more inclusive style of leadership.
"Thank you." Kian pushed away from his desk, walked over to Turner, and offered him his hand. "How was your trip?"
"Successful." Turner shook what he'd been offered.
"I had no doubt." Kian motioned for him to take a seat next to the conference table, then pulled out a chair for Bridget.
"Thank you." She sat across the table from Turner.
"Did you make up your mind?" Kian asked Bridget.
Turner tensed. Last night, they had agreed to wait another two weeks before either one of them made a decision.
"I want to do it," she said.
Turner started to relax, when it dawned on him that the wording of her answer was off. Bridget didn't want to approve his transition. The best he hoped for was her reluctant acquiescence.
Kian threw her a hard stare. "Are you sure? It's not something you learned to do in medical school. It will require your undivided attention and a tremendous commitment of time."
Obviously, they were not talking about him, for some reasons assuming he knew what this was all about or not giving a shit that he was being left out.
"This is more important than my medical practice. I feel like I was meant to do it. I want it to be my project."
Kian nodded. "Very well. From now on you're in charge." He turned to Victor. "Bridget is going to head the operation. You'll be working directly with her."
That was one of the dumbest ideas he'd ever heard, and he'd heard his share of them. "With all due respect, Bridget, you are a smart and capable lady, but you have absolutely no background or qualifications to lead this operation."
"Neither do I," Kian said.
"At least you have military experience."
Bridget didn't look offended by his dismissal, but Turner had a feeling it was the calm before the storm.
"May I?" she asked Kian.
"By all means." He waved a hand and then crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair.
"This project is complicated, and no one person is an expert on everything. You are obviously the tactical mind and will be in charge of organizing the extractions. But we also need someone who will be in charge of taking care of the victims once they are freed. To start with, they will need housing and psychological help. Then they will need education to prepare them for integration into society. Someone will need to be in charge of that transition, finding jobs and independent accommodation for the graduates. We also need someone in charge of fundraising, and another one in charge of public awareness. Finally, someone needs to head the team and coordinate all the moving parts. I'm offering to be that person because it's a full-time job, and Kian can't handle this in addition to everything else he is doing."
Turner nodded. Her logic was solid.
Bridget continued. "I obviously can't take over managing the clan's business conglomerate to free Kian's time for this project, so the only other option is for me to take this on. If you can think of a better candidate, I would gracefully bow out. I'm not doing this for an ego trip. I'm doing this because it needs to be done and I feel passionate about it."
Turner rubbed the back of his scalp. "I don't know about that, Bridget. Everything you said is true, but let me be the devil's advocate for a minute. Throughout your practice, you worked alone in your clinic and never managed a team. There must be someone more qualified for the job—someone who was in charge of leading teams before. As you said, this operation is too important for ego trips."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "There is no one else. Sari, Kian's counterpart in Scotland, could manage that, but she has her hands full as well."
Kian uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. "The clan is not big, Turner. We don't have that many people to choose from. And I don't want an outsider in charge of this. I have full confidence in Bridget's ability to handle the project. I can't allow myself to get bogged down with all the details, but I'm here if either of you needs me."
It seemed to be a done deal. Bridget was heading the operation.
The question was whether Turner had blown his chances with her by objecting to the nomination.
Chapter 33: Bridget
As the meeting drew to an end, Bridget put her amiable doctor's expression on, refusing to let Turner see how angry he'd made her.
Except, the truth was that she had no reason to be mad because every objection he had voiced was valid. Even though she was a council member, she'd never led the discussions or proposed any plans. Bridget had been nominated to the council because of her research and the respect most members of the clan had for her, including Kian.
Kian's confidence in her meant a lot to Bridget, and she hoped not to disappoint him.
"I'm sorry," Turner said as they left Kian's office.
"Nothing to be sorry about. Everything you said was true."
She sighed. "I admit that I got a little peeved. But we need to be able to speak our minds freely even if our feelings get hurt. I'll get over it."
"We will need to work closely together," he said, walking beside her with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants.
"I know. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Yes, but I'll get over it," he mimicked not only her words but also her inflection.
Ouch, that hurt, but at least he was honest. "Please explain."
"My attraction to you is distracting. My brain needs complete calm and focus to deliver consistently superb results."
"A vacuum."
He nodded. "A bubble."
"I have a cure for that."
He cocked a brow. "You do?"
"For the calm to return, the sexual tension needs to get released." She pressed the up elevator button.
"Is that an invitation?" He seemed surprised.
She shrugged. "We can't have you stressed out and misfiring, now can we?"
"I accept."
Sending Victor away last night had been the right thing to do, but difficult. Their first and only time in bed had been so surprisingly fantastic that she had no wish to go searching for satisfaction elsewhere.
Outside of bed the man was emotionally closed off, or perhaps even disabled, and had ulterior motives for seducing her. But he was incomparable sexually. It was as if he had a split personality. One was smart, cold, and calculating. The other was a dynamo.
The thing was, she liked both sides.
Was that weird?
What woman
in her right mind craved a cold bastard who was unapologetically trying to manipulate her through sex?
A desperate one?
Or one with very particular tastes?
Bridget preferred to think it was the second one. Victor was brilliant and intriguing, and she'd always had a thing for smart men.
And if she were being honest, his ruthlessness turned her on.
It wouldn't have if it were directed at innocents, but Turner's work was all about cleaning up the filth of the world, which Bridget supported wholeheartedly.
His hard body and that amazing eight-pack of his were a bonus, not only because he looked and felt so good, but because Bridget appreciated the discipline that went into achieving such a level of fitness.
For a man as accomplished and as busy as Turner, it must've been difficult to carve out the time needed to perfect his physique.
He was an over-achiever. Just like her.
"What are you going to do about your practice?" Turner asked as they entered her apartment.
"I already talked with my son about him taking over for me. He was more than happy to do it, especially after I explained why I needed him. Either that or he is sick of working with humans and is looking for a dignified excuse to leave his residency."
"When is he coming back?"
"When I tell him I made up my mind that I'm going through with that."
"In that case, you need to call him soon."
"You're right. In fact, I need to call him before it's too late on the East Coast."
Turner pushed his hands in his pockets. "Go ahead. I'll wait."
"It might take a while."
"I don't mind waiting." He remained standing.
If she didn't tell him to sit down, would he wait for her in the same spot doing an impression of a statue?
"Make yourself comfortable, and help yourself to the fridge or whatever else you need. I'd like you to feel at home here." She hesitated before heading to her bedroom to make the call. "I don't want to worry about you being thirsty or hungry. The more you do for yourself, the less I need to do for you." That got a smile out of him. "Understood."
