Prescription: Makeover

by Jessica Andersen

  “Close the door!” William barked.

  Panic crowded close, bringing a bloom of sweat to her forehead and armpits, a faint tremor to her legs as she reached out and grabbed the knob of the closet door and…Pulled. It. Shut.

  Chapter Seven

  The darkness was instant and absolute. Ike heard a squeak and thought for a moment there were mice in there with her, then realized she’d made the noise. She pressed her lips together, forcing the whimpers deep inside as the panic gathered steam.

  “If I can hear you breathing, he will, too,” William said urgently. “You’ve got to slow it down — now.”

  She took a breath and held it as the footsteps paused just outside her closet door. Her pulse banged in her ears, so loud she could barely make out the man’s voice saying, “…people in place, damn it!”

  William cursed. “If I knew you were this twitchy under pressure, I never would have —” He broke off. “You held it together back at the Coach House, when that bastard had a gun to your head. Which means it’s something else.” There was a pause, and his voice changed as he added it up. “Swallow once if you’re claustrophobic.”

  She swallowed frantically, still holding her breath, acutely aware of the close walls and the darkness. Her lungs tightened, crying for oxygen, but she knew if she stopped holding her breath, she’d scream.

  “Okay, Ike,” William said. “I want you to exhale, nice and easy. Keep it slow and quiet, and we’ll get through this together. You with me?”

  She nodded, which was silly, because he couldn’t see the motion. He was outside in the parking lot. Except he was there with her, too, inside her head. He was a little guardian angel on her shoulder, helping her relax. She held his image in her mind’s eye as she followed his instructions, exhaling quietly, then inhaling as her head spun.

  But it was still so dark, so cramped. The liquid nitrogen containers pressed against her body, and dust tickled her nose and throat, making her want to sneeze.

  “Stay with me,” William said. “Think about something else, anything other than being in a closet.”

  Which just served to remind her she was in a closet and got her blood pumping again. Panic vised her. She couldn’t get any air. The darkness spun and light blotches patched her vision. A rushing noise gathered in her head, warning her that she was trapped, she was dying, nobody would ever find her in this —

  “Ike!” William snapped. “Goddamn it, slow your breathing and think of something else!” Then he muttered something and his voice changed as he said, “Okay, here goes. I’m going to tell you a story and I want you to listen closely to my voice.” He paused and then said, “When I was a kid, I wanted to be Bruce Lee.”

  Who cares? Ike wanted to snap, but she couldn’t because the guy was still out there, standing near the stairwell, talking on his phone, keeping her trapped inside the hot, airless closet. Her head spun and her legs started to shake, and she would’ve jammed her fist against her mouth to keep the screams in, but there was no room to move even that little bit. Tears gathered and fell, and sobs welled up, threatening to break free.

  “I talked my mother into getting me lessons at a dojo near where I grew up,” William continued as if she cared. “I got into it. I wasn’t the most talented kid, but I worked hard enough that after a few years the sensei started showing me some extra stuff now and then and giving me some work to do so I could earn extra lessons.” He paused. “I didn’t compete because it wasn’t really about competing. It wasn’t even really about fighting, it was about finding ways not to fight.”

  He paused, and Ike found her breathing starting to slow, found herself focusing on the story as he continued. “Anyway, I was seventeen, nearly eighteen — I’d just graduated high school and was headed for a local college when a couple of punks broke into the dojo and murdered the sensei over a few hundred dollars.” He exhaled, his voice going hard when he said, “A couple of weeks later I joined the Marines and learned how to fight for real. God, I hated it. Still do. Problem is, I’m good at it. Too good.” He paused for a long moment before he said, “Sorry. I was thinking I needed to get your mind off things, and that just came out. Not much of a story, was it?”

  When he fell silent, Ike realized that whether or not the tale had a happy ending, or any ending, really, it had done the trick. Her heart rate was level, she was breathing without a wheeze and the hallway outside her hiding spot was quiet.

  Barely daring to hope, she pressed her face against the door near the hinge crack and listened. Nothing. She was alone.

  Relief blossomed in her chest and gratitude warmed her. Thank you, she thought, not daring to say the words aloud yet feeling a new warmth toward William.

  She forced herself to move slowly, turning the knob a degree at a time, then easing the door ajar and listening again. Still nothing. Opening the closet door farther, she slipped out, shut the door behind her and crossed the hallway to the stairwell door, which yielded easily.

  She made it back up to the fifth floor on trembling legs and keyed her way through the lock with fingers that shook so much she had to enter the code twice.

  Once she was back in the hallway where she’d started, she ducked into the empty ladies’ room, where her legs gave way and she sank ungracefully to the floor. “Oh, God. Omigod. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I freaked out like that.” Except she could. She’d never been good about small spaces.

  She pressed her face against her knees, so the words came out muffled when she said, “Thank you, William. You were great back there. I wouldn’t have made it without you talking me through.”

  It was perhaps the first heartfelt thing she’d ever said to him, the first honest, open thing she’d offered him that hadn’t been preceded or followed by a dig. She expected him to come back with a sharp rejoinder that gained him points in their ongoing unstated battle.

  Instead he said quite simply, “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get anything on Grosskill.” She lifted her head and plucked at her skirt. “Guess my first full day isn’t going so well.”

  “Your insertion was successful,” he reminded her. “Give it time. Hell, I was under for nearly three years on one job.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been like. I’m nearly coming unglued after just one day in disguise.”

  “Don’t think of it as a disguise, think of it as an identity,” he advised. “Say it out loud — I’m Eleanor Roth.”

  She smiled for what seemed like the first time that day. “Pleased to meet you, Eleanor.” When he didn’t respond, she took a breath. “I’m Eleanor Roth.”

  A strange sense of calm descended upon her, and something clicked into place deep inside. She didn’t become Eleanor so much as she split herself, pushing Ike beneath the shell of a softer, more feminine version who answered to Eleanor.

  “Did that help?” he asked.

  “It did, thanks.” She paused, and when he didn’t respond, she said, “I should go. Sandy’ll be waiting for me.” She stood and brushed off her skirt and lab coat.

  As she headed back into the Kupfer lab, she told herself nothing had really changed between her and William, but she knew that was a lie. She’d leaned on him and it hadn’t hurt. He’d helped her out and hadn’t asked for a thing in return.

  It wasn’t much, but it was more than she usually got from a man.

  WHEN IKE WALKED INTO the lab’s reception area near quitting time that afternoon, looking for Sandy so they could go over the results of the BoGen samples, she found the entire female contingent of the lab gathered around one of the cluttered desks.

  Sandy was at the front of the group and she grinned when she caught sight of Ike. “I thought you said things with your ex were complicated.” She stepped aside and gestured to an elegant, expensive-looking floral arrangement sitting on the desk.

  “What the hell is that?” William asked through the earpiece.

  Ike didn’t answer.
She simply stared at the mixed gladiolas and long-stemmed roses rising from a tall glass vase as ice crystallized in her veins, mingling horror and disbelief.

  How had he found her here? Why?

  She plucked the small envelope from its plastic holder with fingers she refused to let tremble. She opened the card, fighting not to let Sandy and the others see her fear as they crowded close.

  “You are lovelier than the sunrise,” Sandy read over her shoulder. “I am all alone now, but soon we shall be together again, never to be parted.” She squealed and grabbed Ike’s shoulders. “It certainly sounds like your ex is trying to un complicate things.”

  One of the receptionists faked a swoon. “And how romantic that he sent them here, knowing it was your first day in a new place. That’s a man who pays attention.”

  Ike let the female chatter flow around her, fighting not to shake as a hard knot formed in her stomach. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  She bolted for the ladies’ room, where she lunged into a stall and threw up.

  WILLIAM LOCKED HIS fingers on the edge of his seat within the surveillance vehicle, fighting to keep himself in place for the time being. He wasn’t going to jump the gun without a damn good reason and he wasn’t yet sure this was enough of a reason.

  When she quieted, he said, “The other day, you started to ask me if I’d sent you something.” A low burn of anger fisted his gut. “You should’ve told me you had a stalker.”

  The monitor in front of him showed the view from the camera near her collarbone. As he watched, the image shifted from the bathroom floor to a toilet stall door, then to the lower half of a bathroom mirror. Ike’s hands splashed in the sink, and she rinsed her mouth out, then popped a couple of mints from her purse. Then her fingers came into view, adjusting the camera so he could see her face in the mirror.

  She was pale and lovely and fragile-looking as she said, “I didn’t think…I don’t have a stalker.” But her voice shook and her eyes were stark in her face.

  “What else did he send? All flowers? Did you keep the notes?” The words I’m alone now echoed through William’s brain. He wanted to stand and pace, wanted to throw something, but inside the surveillance pod there was barely room to breathe.

  “No, I didn’t keep the notes.” She swallowed hard. “This is the third delivery, all flowers. I got one the day of Zed’s funeral. At first…” Her cheeks pinked. “At first I thought they might’ve been from you. I thought I saw you there.”

  “I was there,” he admitted, “but I sent flowers to his family, not you.” He hadn’t known the dead man, had barely known Ike, but she’d made a hell of an impression. And given that she’d been drawn into the danger through Max, William had felt compelled to do something, to apologize somehow for having not stopped The Nine.

  “What about the second delivery?” he prompted.

  “It was sent to my office at Boston General, maybe a month ago. The first card said something about us being together. The second one was a fashion critique.”

  An ugly feeling congealed in William’s gut. “In what way?”

  “He —” she faltered, and he saw that she’d gotten the hint in the latest note, as well. Her secret admirer was alone, just as Odin was now alone. “He said I should wear dresses more and take better care of my appearance.”

  “Did he say why?” William demanded, not liking this one bit.

  She shook her head. “No. But I’m wearing a dress now, and he must’ve followed me….” Tears gathered in her eyes and voice. “Oh, God. If he developed a thing for me during Max’s case, then Zed…” She trailed off, looking stricken, unable to finish the thought, unable to process the idea that her lover hadn’t been killed in her stead, he’d been killed so she would remain single.

  William’s gut clenched. “That’s it, I’m pulling the plug. Your cover’s no longer secure. If you’re not in the parking lot in five minutes, I’m coming in after you.”

  He expected a fight. If anything, his worry increased when she nodded, eyes stark and hollow in her face. “I’m on my way.”

  IKE FLED FROM THE ladies’ room straight down the back stairs. She was shaking in earnest by the time she pushed through the last door to the parking lot, where she saw William waiting for her beside the SUV.

  She burst into tears, ran to him and flung herself into his arms.

  He caught her close and held on tight as she burrowed in and clutched at his shirt, pressing her hot face to the curve of his neck, simultaneously embarrassed by the outburst and terrified by the concept that she was being stalked by the leader of The Nine.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He hustled her into the SUV and laid rubber getting them out of the parking lot, then wove through the streets, doubling back several times to make sure they weren’t being followed. Finally, on the outskirts of the city, he pulled over in a secluded spot beneath an overpass and threw the SUV into park. Then he unbuckled his belt, turned to her and held out a hand. “Come here.”

  She went willingly, needing the human contact, the connection that told her she was still alive, still free, not locked away and forgotten somewhere small and dark. And perhaps he’d meant just that — a brief embrace, a reassurance that their plan had failed but they were still alive, still determined to take down Odin and any remnants of his organization. But whatever the intent, things changed the moment their bodies aligned.

  Heat flared through Ike as she slid her arms around his waist and felt the solid male flesh beneath his T-shirt and jeans. She knew she shouldn’t find excitement in the moment but was helpless to fight the sensation as she pressed her face into the hollow of his neck and breathed him in, filling her lungs with the scent of the man who had talked to her in the darkness and who had worried about her.

  She’d never found protectiveness sexy before. Now she thought she might begin to understand the pull. She eased away from him and looked up, wondering if the heat and the awful, terrible temptation was all one-sided, and found herself held prisoner in his eyes, which burned with a desire that matched her own.

  They met halfway as though they were lovers already, pausing briefly to look in each other’s eyes and exhale a hint of breath. And then their lips touched. Held. Parted.

  And rationality was lost.

  He tasted of fear and frustration. Or maybe those were her emotions as she sank into him, let him sink into her. They kissed and kissed again in long, searching explorations of lip and tongue that spun out endlessly. The windows grew moist and fogged over, and a passing motorist honked, but Ike didn’t care as she touched him, stroking whatever part of him she could reach, wishing they were somewhere else, someplace more comfortable.

  I want this, she thought — or maybe she said the words aloud, because he shifted the angle of the kiss, delving deeper and freeing a hand to trace her breast through the light fabric of her dress. She arched against his touch, straining to get closer to him in the small confines of the car, then turned her head to nip a delicate path down the side of his neck, where she fastened on and suckled for a moment, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest.

  “William,” she said, whispering his name, glorying at the feel and taste of him, the rasp of stubble against her cheek and throat and the hard muscles that bunched and flexed at her touch. “Oh, William.”

  He shuddered, the motion transmitting throughout his big body as he withdrew from her, pulling away to stare down at her, his ribs heaving with great draughts of air, his eyes dark with passion. Then they darkened further as he looked around. “God. We’re under a damned bridge.”

  “Then let’s find someplace better,” Ike suggested, having no doubt they were on the same page. They needed to scratch the itch or go mad, relieve the tension lest it distract them from their pursuit of Odin.

  The very thought of taking William inside her, of unleashing all the raw power promised in his kiss, had Ike’s inner muscles clenching on a warm rush of desire and had her heart stutt
ering ever so slightly on a hitch of nerves. Her previous lovers — and there had been more than she cared to admit — had been good men, strong enough for a no-strings, no-frills relationship. And if none of them had ever progressed to the point of love, none of them had truly hurt when the end came a few weeks or months later.

  William was already different. Her feelings for him were already different. Yet even that wasn’t enough to dissuade her, because since when did Ike Rombout back down from a challenge?

  You’re not Ike right now, a small, sly voice whispered. You’re Eleanor.

  William exhaled and pulled even farther away from her. “We should talk.”

  “Fair enough. I’m a big fan of going in with my eyes open.” Ike straightened and tugged at her dress. “Lord knows I’ve never been shy, so I’ll start.” She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, aware that his eyes flicked to her breasts, aware that her nipples peaked beneath his regard. Her blood churned, yearned, as she said, “We can make this work, keep it totally separate from the case. Hell, scratching the itch’ll probably help us focus rather than distracting us. I don’t know about you, but I’m just about cross-eyed right now. If you don’t kiss me in the next minute or so, I’m going to implode.”

  Tension thrummed through her, collecting in a hard knot at her core, a clench of muscles anticipating his kiss and his touch.

  Instead of kissing her, William actually winced. “That wasn’t what I was going to say at all.”

  The icy slap of rejection stung her with unfamiliar venom, seizing her lungs and stealing the oxygen from the air around her. “Then what exactly were you going to say?”

  “That I can’t do this.” The awkward regret in his expression was more painful than a gut punch. “I’m sorry,” he said again, wounding her with his pity. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. Hell, I didn’t mean for it to get started in the first place. But it needs to stop.”

  Her lips felt stiff and odd when she said, “Why?”