Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2)

by Suzanne Steele

  Dr. Fairchild called last night to let me know she got that job and would be starting today – and that she’ll be moving in with Melissa after she gets off work tonight. He had a lot on his mind and I heard him out; that’s part of my job, too, and helps me stay in touch with my clients’ priorities. The more he talked, I knew I had made the right decision taking the assignment. This is a big day for my girl, and I have to admit to being impressed with how she’s taking charge of her life.

  I’m not as worried about the new job as I am her moving into the Hearth and Home building. At least at the hospital she will be in a structured environment where the most dangerous residents are locked away and monitored closely. Living in downtown Louisville, on the other hand, she’s going to be subjected to street life and all the danger that comes with it. Windy is an intelligent woman, but school smarts and street smarts are two different things. She’s an adult, but there’s no denying that she’s been sheltered by her parents. I’m not about to let her jump into a world she’s not fully prepared for with no backup.

  I pull into a parking space at Our Lady of Tranquility and watch Windy as she hops down from her Jeep and makes her way across the parking lot toward the entrance. It’s my first glimpse of her from head to toe. Watching her move with so much confidence and purpose has me horny as fuck in an instant. The fitted skirt hits just above the knee and hugs her perfect ass, and her legs go on forever in those heels. She has pinned her long hair up in a no-nonsense style that somehow just emphasizes the sway of that luscious ass. My girl wants to be taken seriously; that’s the only reason a woman would wear the conservative button-down shirt and suit jacket that she’s sporting today…but there’s just no hiding those magnificent tits. Jesus…The woman has me mesmerized as she makes her way across the parking lot. It’s almost more than my rock hard cock can stand, she’s so fucking beautiful. The photo didn’t do her justice.

  Cash was right; I’m staking my claim, and soon. Here’s hoping she’s not picky about personal boundaries because I won’t be protecting her from a distance this time around. And that will likely piss off this new, independent Windy at first. That’s okay; I can’t wait to find out what she’s like when she gets fired up.

  Windy

  I push away the nagging feeling I’m being watched as I quickly make my way across the black top. Just to put my mind at ease, I look up in the direction of the hospital windows but the glare of the early morning sun and the tinted glass make it difficult to make out anything definite. It’s probably just a curious patient watching me from a 3rd story window.

  It suddenly hits me as I make my way in that I don’t even know where to report for my first day of work. The nurse/receptionist puts my mind at ease by telling me to report to Dr. Brinkley’s office. I look at her tag and say, “Thanks, Karen,” and feel a sense of accomplishment when stops typing long enough to smile and reply, “You’re more than welcome, Windy. Have a great first day.”

  “I’m planning on it,” I call out over my shoulder as I make my way down the hall. As I walk the gauntlet of oil paintings of former hospital executives, the staccato sound of my footsteps echoes on the tile floor.

  I take a moment to stand in Dr. Brinkley’s office doorway when I see he’s busy on the phone. Without looking up, he waves me in and points to a desk in the corner of his office that wasn’t there yesterday. He places his hand over the receiver and speaks in a low tone, “Boot up the computer.” I set my purse to the side and do as he asks, even though I’m a little bit confused about why a desk has been moved into his office.

  “Miss Fairchild.”

  I look up to see Dr. Brinkley has ended the call and is eyeing me with a steady gaze.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “As I’m certain you’re already aware, I have hired you -- but there are some contingencies.” He doesn’t give me any time to reply as he continues. “You’ll be working as my personal assistant as well as my research aide. The position pays quite well and I can assure it will be much more hands-on than sorting case files.”

  “You’re talking like you know I’m going to say yes.”

  “If you’re serious about getting out from under your father’s control, you have no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice -- and how do you know about my issues with my father?”

  His expression is a mixture of smug impatience; as if he’s already made up his mind and thinks I really don’t have a choice. He clearly doesn’t know how headstrong I can be.

  “You as well as said so yesterday. You’re acting as if the opportunity I’m presenting you with is some sort of inconvenience. You do realize this will give you the opportunity to finish your degree online and apply the hours you work here toward your degree, don’t you?”

  I don’t remember telling him anything about my struggles with my dad yesterday, other than making it clear that I wanted to be judged on my own merits, but then again maybe it came up; we did discuss quite a bit yesterday. He’s right. If I do what he’s asking me to, it will alleviate me having to go to school and hold down a job at the same time. I can take my courses online at my own pace and apply my hands-on hours here at the facility toward my degree.

  I breathe out a sigh of relief and try not to be so defensive when the man who’s now my boss is only trying to help me.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m pretty jaded from years of my father attempting to control my every decision.”

  The closest thing I’ve seen to a smile crosses his full lips as he nods at me, “My father was a doctor, too, I’m well aware how controlling we can be. I think it stems from the chaos we deal with on a daily basis.” He unfolds his long, lean frame from the chair and stands, heading in my direction. He places his hands palms down on the side of my desk and speaks in a low tone, “Place your pocketbook in the bottom right drawer and lock it with this key.”

  He reaches into his pocket, handing me a small key and waits as I finish the task. He then reaches around and opens the top drawer which is easily in reach of his long arm, and hands me a file.

  “This has your magnetic key card, any paperwork you’ll need, and the passwords for your computer.” He takes a moment to lock eyes with me like what he’s saying is of utmost importance. “Treat your desk key, your key card, and your passwords like classified information. The worst thing you can do in a place like this is to underestimate those around you. You’re dealing with criminal masterminds who have no scruples and will not hesitate to manipulate you—don’t ever forget that.” He straightens and adjusts his tie. “Come…we still have your interview from yesterday to complete.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “My interview?”

  “You’re here to learn criminal profiling, aren’t you? The best way to do that is to deal with the most deviant patients face to face—under my supervision, of course.”

  I move quickly to slip the sheet of passwords into my desk drawer and lock it with my new key. I slip the key card and my cell into my notebook binder and am once again powerwalking to keep up with the doctor’s long strides.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you didn’t hire me on to be your personal secretary,” I say as I silence my phone’s ringtone. Don’t want any interruptions.

  “I already have one of those, Miss Fairchild. And, besides, you’re much too intriguing to keep behind a desk.”

  I look up from my phone just in time to avoid running into him when he stops and uses his key card to open the door to the same room we used yesterday.

  Once again the same patient is seated at the metal table that is connected to a metal bench and bolted into the flooring. She is in handcuffs, and her leg is shackled to the table. The only thing that isn’t giving me a complete sense of déjà vu is that this time she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking down at her cuffed hands, which are folded demurely in her lap.

  Dr. Brinkley’s voice is low and smooth when he speaks to me from where he is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.r />
  “The floor’s yours, Miss Fairchild. Ask the patient whatever you want.”

  The woman still hasn’t looked up at me, which seems odd after the bold demeanor she displayed yesterday. I decide the direct approach is best. “Why are you here?”

  I’m shocked when she looks up at me through her lashes, keeping her chin down. She’s wearing makeup today. She’s even more beautiful than she was yesterday, which makes no sense since she’s got nowhere to go. She glances over at Dr. Brinkley coquettishly before looking back at me and arching an eyebrow with a smirk. That’s when it hits me; she has some kind of fascination with my boss. It’s not uncommon for patients to bond with their doctors; they open up to their doctor during sessions; over time, the doctor gains their trust, as much as they can trust anyone. The problem is…the doctor’s only goal is to get information; the patient, on the other hand, is forming an authentic bond. That can be a very dangerous situation. It’s only a matter of time before she uses it against him.

  “You look lovely,” I offer, trying to forge my own connection with her and perhaps make some progress while she’s in a more cooperative mood. “I’d like to talk to you about why you’re here.”

  Her facial expression turns glacial. “You smell like money; a rich cunt who’s lived off daddy all your life.”

  Well, that didn’t last long. “I’m not here to talk about me; I’m here to talk about you.” My tone is even and I’m working hard not to show any emotion.

  She ignores me and continues speaking. “Awwww, does someone have daddy issues? Poor little fucking rich girl.”

  The contempt in her voice is palpable. Yeah, she’s grown attached to Dr. Brinkley somehow. In her mind, I’m intruding on her space. I’ll be sure to watch my back.

  I jerk around, cutting my eyes at my boss. His cold blue eyes remain on me and offer no compromise. He doesn’t speak, but I know exactly what he’s saying: This patient is dangerous. I immediately soften and nod my head yes in agreement, then resume the interview. I turn back to face her, maintaining steady eye contact. “Tell me about your kills.”

  My request is met with silence, the woman’s gaze sliding up and down my body with thinly veiled contempt. She leans back farther in her chair with a smirk.

  “Answer my assistant, Georgia,” Dr. Brinkley says slowly, each word spoken precisely, leaving no doubt that he is in command of our little group.

  “I’ll consider it,” she replies to him haughtily, then smiles at me sweetly. “But I’m not sure you can handle my brand of sadistic, sweetie. You may be tossing your lunch by the time I get done giving you the sordid details of my…areas of expertise.”

  “That will be enough for today; it’s clear our patient isn’t in the frame of mind to be interviewed.” I grab my notebook binder and once again I’m rushing behind the doctor to keep up. This time when we arrive at the elevators and he swipes his card, I note that his knuckles are swollen and covered in small cuts. A cold chill runs up my spine as I realize once again the doctor may very well be more dangerous than the patient.

  “What happened to your hand?” My tone is accusing and I really don’t care. Would this guy go so far as to beat up one of the patients?

  He stills, then cocks his head and narrows his eyes at me. He raises a brow sardonically and answers, “If you must know… I did it yesterday sparring at the gym. Miss Fairchild, I’m not in the habit of beating the patients into submission. What you’re sensing in my patient most certainly isn’t an act of submission. You would do well to remember my patient, Georgia, is a cold blooded, sadistic killer. She sees you as an enemy because she’s developed a sort of obsession with me.”

  “And you…are the feelings reciprocated?”

  “I won’t deny I’m intrigued by her.”

  “You say the same about me.”

  “Apples and oranges, Miss Fairchild. You desire to decipher the criminal mind; Georgia is the definition of criminally insane. Female serial killers are a different breed. She is a specimen worthy of researching. To unlock the secrets of her insanity would put you on the fast track in your profiling career.”

  I can feel myself flushing red as I silently reprimand myself for being so suspicious. I’m certain the other employees would have reported barbaric treatment of patients to the board if there were any incidents of patient abuse at the hospital. I still can’t get past the feeling there is a side to Dr. Brinkley that goes far beyond the impeccable professional he exhibits to the public. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’m being paranoid, I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to the doctor than meets the eye.

  Chapter Eight

  Thorn

  Every surveillance assignment is different, my approach varying depending on the client’s goals and the subject’s behavior and lifestyle. I start every assignment with the same prep work, like background checks and preliminary analysis of their home and work locations. However, this is the first time I’ve ever worked an assignment that involved such strong emotional ties. Even when Windy was just a kid and I thought of her the same way I would a favorite niece or kid sister, I always felt protective of her. Looking after her was always more than just a job.

  In my mind, she was still a kid…until her father slid that photograph across the table. That picture is tucked safely in my wallet, away from prying eyes like Harley’s. He’s lucky he still has a hand after he grabbed that picture away from me and checked her out like she was just some hot girl in a bar. It isn’t that Harley is a bad guy, but he is a player. I had to set him straight, let him know that Windy’s off limits, so that’s exactly what I’d done.

  The more I think about it, the more I think Cash is right; I need to let Windy know I’ve been hired to protect her -- just like old times. She’ll need some help with her move, so that may be my best option. I can help her out by moving heavy stuff and also get a chance to check out her new digs in more detail. This isn’t the first time a job has led me into the underbelly of downtown Louisville; it is, however, the first time I have to watch a woman I care about walk into the lion’s den. Windy was stubborn when she was a kid and it sounds like she still is, but she’s met her match in me.

  After I followed her to work this morning, I spent a few hours at our headquarters doing some initial research. Now I’m sitting in the Our Lady of Tranquility parking lot, waiting for her to get off of work. For now it’s the extent of what I can do until I make my presence known.

  Windy emerges from the building, still looking fucking hot in her sexy suit and heels. I’m surprised to hear a low growl rumbling somewhere nearby…and even more shocked when I realize it’s coming from me. She’s being escorted to her car by the hospital’s executive director, Dr. Brian Brinkley. My afternoon of background checks included the employees at Our Lady of Tranquility, so I know exactly who this guy is. Since when did the head of this place start escorting employees to their cars? I feel a knot in my chest as he places his hands on her rolled down car window and talks to her for a moment before he sees her off. Pompous jerk.

  What the hell is going on with me? My chest feels like it’s on fire as I struggle to subdue the territorial urges this woman is bringing out in me. I haven’t seen her in ten years, true. But now that I have, her fate is sealed…she just doesn’t know it yet. She’s all grown up and the rules of the game have changed. There’s no way I’m letting her go, and I’m damn sure not going to allow creepy doc to get his hands on her.

  I start my car and pull out, preparing to follow her out of the parking lot. I glare at Brinkley as he waves goodbye to her. He squints his eyes like he’s trying to decide if he knows me—he will soon enough, I’m going to make sure of that.

  Chapter Nine

  Windy

  I don’t notice the black SUV following me until I’m halfway home. Between turning down side streets and adjusting my speed, I’ve given this guy plenty of opportunities to go about his business and leave me alone. But more and more, it looks like I’m being followed a
nd it freaks me out. I search my mind for all the self-defense tips I’ve picked up from a lifetime of watching crime shows on television.

  Stay calm. Drive to a heavily populated location. Easy, girl, you’ve got this.

  I pull into a busy gas station on the next block and park in the first space I see, expecting the SUV to pass by harmlessly, prepared to laugh at my overblown sense of impending doom. My rearview mirror tells a different story as whoever this is pulls in behind me, blocking me in. That does it. Dude, you have messed with the wrong girl. Since the best defense is a good offense, I swing my car door open and climb out, prepared to confront this asshole on behalf of women everywhere.

  My first impression of this guy takes my breath. He’s huge. His black jeans and t-shirt hug his towering muscular frame. When he leans lazily against his car, resting a forearm along the top, his bicep bunches rather impressively and my mouth goes dry. I can see what I’m up against and it’s enough to make me wish I could reconsider my options here.

  He’s taller than just about any man I’ve ever seen. My mind pulls up the hazy image of the only other man I’m aware of who would have a prayer of meeting this guy eye to eye. Of course, that S.O.B. isn’t here and hasn’t been here for years. I allow myself a split second to get pissed off about that all over again before returning my attention to the matter at hand – namely, the Neanderthal who’s obviously got all the time in the world to check me out as I stomp the remaining ten feet to his car.

  I breathe in a lungful of pungent gasoline fume-infused air and prepare to give this asshole a piece of my mind that will surely go down in history as nothing short of epic. But before I can make a sound, my would-be assailant smirks at me and removes his baseball cap…and my whole world tilts, hard.