Authors: Siera London
Tags: #beach town, #African American, #military hero, #Romantic Suspense
“You don’t get to touch me ever again,” she hissed.
“You were fine with me touching you, before I said I didn’t want to date you anymore,” he drawled. There was a look of smug satisfaction on his face. Seriously? He challenged her because she refused to give up her goodies. She’d had her fill of this conversation.
“Insightful, but it will never happen.”
“I miss you.” Harsh laughter gushed out of her, spilling over them both.
“Did you miss me before or after your hand got tired?” She saw him drinking her in from head to toe. Blessed with Jill Scott curves that men craved, and then cursed to suffer the fallout once the novelty disappeared. She was fifteen the first time a man compared her figure to the Rhythm & Blues songstress.
Regret shone on his face. “Lina give me a break.”
She was disappointed when their relationship dissipated, but to say she missed him would be a lie. Six months with Jace, paled in comparison to the single kiss she’d shared with the just-her-size psychiatrist on staff at Shell Cove Medical Center. She still wanted to drop her panties faster than the Falcon’s Fury Free Fall ride at Busch Gardens theme park just thinking about Gideon. It was in her best interest to steer a wide path away from any man for which she held a remote attraction. The men in her life never stayed.
“You’re right. I’m being snarky.” He beamed at her comment. No doubt thinking he’d won her over.
She hadn’t seen Jace’s abandonment coming, but she should have.
“Finally, we are speaking the same language.” What conversation was he a part of? For the first time, she had the opportunity to give a man his walking papers.
“Good, then I only need to say farewell once.” She should have an online certificate mounted on her wall for a four-point grade average in mending a broken heart.
“What?” Jace questioned, his voice high pitched. Never one to leave a loose end, Lina looked him in the eye, as she launched the second strategic deterrent in her male detoxification plan.
“One more thing before you leave. Stop sending those awful white roses.” His perplexed look made her ire rise.
“White roses symbolize innocence, chastity, everlasting love, and sympathy. The first three are inapplicable, and I don’t need your sympathy, so stop sending them.”
“But, I’m making an effort to…” She leveled him with a vicious stare. He stopped talking. She thought about the effort he put into planning their break-up. It was ingenious really—dinner, dancing, and a remote corner of the beach on a starlit night. Perfect.
“I have a new mantra thanks to you,” she let a peaceful expression cover her face.
“What is it?”
Using the singsong voice he favored, she said, “No effort, no entry, and definitely no more jackassery.” His mouth gaped out in silent outrage.
As if queued by some offsite director, Estrella’s South American accent reached her ear before she heard footsteps.
“Lina?” Her new food buddy’s warm olive face, bare of make-up and framed by shiny ebony locks came into view. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Jace, whose scowl resembled a petulant two-year old.
“Is everything okay?” Eyes rolling heavenward, Lina exhaled a large breath willing herself not to push Jace over the stone railing. Embarrassed, she turned to address her friend.
“I’m fine, Estrella. Dr. Harper was just leaving.”
“I was not. We still need to talk.”
“I should call the police.” Though offered as a sign of support, Lina could hear the hesitancy in the other woman’s voice.
“No, you should not,” Jace said, in a raised voice. No doubt offended that she would suggest such an action.
“No worries, I have a friend here with me that’s itching to make contact with Dr. Harper.”
Taking in the added pallor to Jace’s complexion he recalled that BETAS was ready for action.
“I wonder what would happen if BETAS accidentally…” Jace interrupted before she could finish her sentence.
“This is the way you want it to be between us?” She nodded.
“I’m done with you, boo boo.”
“Colorful, Lina. You might change your mind.”
“Too colorful for you, remember. Get off my doorstep before you have a leading role in the live adaptation of Misery.” Jace smiled, but his teeth were clenched tight and his face had reddened tenfold in the past five minutes. Unsure if the burgeoning redness to his face was from the heat or heightened emotion she was tempted to offer him a bottle of water before she sent him on his way.
“I’ll see you at work in the morning,” he said. Now why did that sound like a threat?
Chapter 2
A killer didn’t belong in a hospital. In reality, he didn’t belong anywhere or to anyone. Compliments of his tour in Afghanistan, Doctor Gideon Rice had more experience as an instrument of destruction, than as a psychiatrist, but failure was not an option. That’s what his colleagues expected of his Wounded Warrior Recovery initiative.
Gideon stood at the psychiatric clinic’s check-in desk looking out at the patient waiting room. Uniformed personnel filled the seats to capacity and he needed an experienced nurse in the next forty-five minutes. The clinic couldn’t maintain this length of volume without appropriate staffing. He glanced down at the clerk seated in front of dual computer terminals.
“I’m going up to the inpatient unit. I’ll be back before clinic starts with a new clinic nurse.” The stout, gray hair woman winced before offering a wavering smile. He should be used to folks having low expectations for him. But after surviving a war and going on to complete his medical degree the snubbing stung more than he cared to admit.
The program allowed active duty Marines and sailors to receive mental health services in civilian outpatient facilities. Although the military worked hard to dispel perceptions, many combat veterans believed seeking mental health care within the military healthcare system ended their careers. The WWR initiative was the first civilian–military mental health collaboration between Queens Bay Naval Hospital and Shell Cove Medical Center.
The WWR was his baby, but delivering a healthy program with sustainable growth was proving more challenging than he ever imagined. The SCMC administrators never questioned the validity of his program, but rather the viability in a civilian healthcare setting. Marines were trained to be authoritative. Unfortunately, that behavior didn’t take a back seat in group therapy. Several of the clinic staff members had requested to be reassigned before the first group of patients completed the program. He would find the right staff mix to help him save the clinic if it killed him.
Gideon released a sigh of frustration. Monday mornings at Shell Cove Medical Center were the equivalent of contracting a chickenpox infection one day a week and this morning was worse than most. He maneuvered through hallways of organized chaos responding to greetings from medical clerks, lab technicians, nurse practitioners, and a few physician colleagues along the way. If he broke stride or made eye contact for more than two seconds the clinic would start late and his patients would suffer the price.
Being a chatty Kathy, or whatever the male counterpart was, maybe a Talking Thomas, meant late appointments, angry patients, and long nights at the office playing catch up. The speed and focus he learned in uniform was applicable in the hospital. The doors to the psychiatric unit were in view when pediatric surgeon, Logan Masters approached with a day’s worth of stubble covering his jaw and chunks of rusty blonde hair standing on end. Had he slept in the last twenty-four hours? Almost made it to the other side. Seeing his friend in distress Gideon came to a halt. The sun shaped replica wall clock with the eclectic blue hospital logo, read seven fifteen.
“Logan?” Gideon waited until the other man’s eyes focused on him.
“Had to pull three slugs from a sixteen year old boy last night. The trauma team found an ounce of Galaxy in his pocket.” At the haunted expression behind those blood shot eyes, Gideon felt the urge to start an impromptu therapy session. Galaxy was a combination club drug with the effects of both ketamine and GHB. Ketamine caused sight and sound distortion, with an out of body experience for the user. The amnesiac side effect meant it was a choice drug in sexual assaults. Gamma-hydroxybutyrate known as GHB on the club scene, could be mixed with alcohol or snorted. In high doses the drug could cause prolonged sleep, coma, or death.
“Was he a user?”
“He didn’t have that sickly, sweet smell the users tend to radiate. He’ll live, only to spend his life behind bars for dealing. It’s the third Galaxy related shooting in four months.” The drug had infiltrated the high schools, suburbia, and the military community. The potent combination coupled with easy access and low cost was both addictive and deadly. The affluence of the waterfront city wasn’t impervious to the drug trafficking activities through the Southeast corridor of Interstate-95. Logan shattered the stereotype of a mild mannered gray hair pediatrician. The man was demanding, stubborn, and a control freak to boot. He wouldn’t respond well if Gideon suggested they talk about his feelings or coping mechanisms.
Instead, he said, “How about we team up against Darwin and Graham this week on the basketball court or the golf course? Your choice.” Gideon and Logan, along with his younger brother Darwin were frequent visitors to the local golf courses and basketball courts. Graham, an obstetrician gynecologist at the SCMC beach location was Logan’s best friend since medical school. Johns Hopkins University graduates, the two men completed their residency program in the Baltimore, Maryland hospital.
“Can’t this week,” Logan replied. “Our engagement party is in two weeks and I want everything perfect for Ava.” Logan’s love for Ava was so intense, Gideon felt its presence whenever he was near either one of the lovebirds.
“How’s the transition from civilian nursing to being a Navy Nurse going for Ava?”
“She’s taken to military service like a sailor to the sea. I on the other hand, feel like a private escort when we’re together and she’s in uniform.” Logan huffed out a laugh, a smile covering his face. Logan liked control. Ava dressed in her naval uniform would definitely shift the balance of power to the public eye.
“You’re the doctor, but she’s the naval officer. That makes you arm candy. Some men have a difficult time when the woman is in a position of authority.” Logan’s smile broadened.
“I’m looking forward to the day when I can say, my wife is ordering me around.”
“Let me know if I can help out.” Logan shook his head, his smile faltered.
“I might take you up on your offer. The rift between Darwin and Rebecca had an adverse effect on Darwin’s disposition. A salt covered slug would be more helpful.” Ouch. It was Gideon’s turn to laugh. Darwin was the best man for the upcoming wedding. The grimace on Logan’s face said he didn’t appreciate Gideon’s laughter.
“Graham would be happy to step up to the plate.”
“That was the old Graham. Yvonne has his head messed up.”
“Who’s Yvonne?”
“Exactly.”
Gideon, confused by Logan’s comment gave him a dude I need more information look. Logan got the message and proceeded with an explanation.
“She’s a doctoral student he met during his assistant professor gig at Howard University. They got close, then she disappeared on him.”
“PhD students are a select, close knit group. He should be able to locate her.”
“Great minds think alike. If she had given him her real name, I would agree with you.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Yes, it is,” Logan chuckled. “You are the only one out of us without trouble of the female variety.” At the reminder of his single status Gideon masked a grimace. When the nightmares allowed him a reprieve to dream, one woman starred in his dreams. There was one woman he wanted to fill his home with their children. A curvy, cocoa beauty with an intelligent wit, and doe eyes. He hadn’t found a woman willing to hitch her wagon to him for the long haul, including the one occupying his dreams. Lina James.
“How goes it with the ladies planning the wedding?” Gideon hadn’t imagined it possible, but Logan’s face darkened at the mention of the upcoming wedding.
“Both our families are planning the reception, except for my mother.”
“Ouch.” If Emma Rice was alive, she would be front and center to see one of her boys’ tie the knot. She’d set up a candlelight vigil outside the honeymoon suite until an ultrasound confirmed a new addition to the Rice family was in the oven. Mothers were not created equal.
“Gideon, her hatred towards Ava is irrational.” The pained expression on the other man’s face made Gideon’s chest tighten. Family was drama. Gideon understood that better than a lot of his colleagues with their traditional childhood. Unlike him, they could probably trace their heritage back to the Mayflower’s pilgrim voyage.