Saving the Seal: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance (10 page)

“No office.” He returned sharply – too sharply. He couldn’t help it. He attached the office to the idea of being mentally dissected like an animal on a stainless steel table – and even Genevieve’s affable nature couldn’t dispel the notion. “Can you come here?”

Mere hours ago, he would have known the danger of such an invitation – would have known that she could never accept. But in that moment, he was hardly thinking about his psychiatrist’s allure. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to ease the weight on his chest – and he was beginning to understand that he couldn’t do it alone.

“Owen…I don’t think-”

“
Please
, Genevieve.”

When was the last time he had begged someone for something? He hardly wanted to remember. It had been back in Fallujah…in the darkness of that cave, when he’d pleaded for their captors to spare the lives of those who had entrusted him with them.

“There was another pregnant pause that lasted just a few seconds – but it was enough time for Owen to fear that she’d reject him, and it was enough to terrify him.

“Alright.” His heart leapt. “Is seven ok?”

“It is.” He managed to choke out. “Thank you, Genevieve.”

“Of course, Owen.” She yawned again. “Try to get some sleep, alright? You sound exhausted.”

Her words echoed in his head even after she hung up the phone, and Owen stared at the receiver. In this moment when he felt wired – like he could run a marathon – and would rather do anything than fall asleep and face his demons once more - she could sense how exhausted he really was.

He’d been exhausted for months.

Now, he only hoped she could help him ease back into the restful sleep – and peaceful existence – he craved.

**

Genevieve had been watching the clock all day.

It was terribly bad manners, she knew. She had patients who depended on her to pay them her utmost attention during their appointments, and to give anything less than her all would be disrespectful. She'd done her best, but every hour and a half session had seemed to last a lifetime. When her lunch break had finally come along, Stella had asked her over their roast beef sandwiches why she seemed so antsy.

When she revealed that it was because Lieutenant Sinclair had called her in the middle of the night, sounding at his wits end, her friend had been incredulous. The man had been fighting her every attempt to speak plainly about his issues for the past month – had spent an entire dinner blatantly heating her blood and testing the boundaries of her control – and
now
he needed her?

“I think it’s a ploy.” Stella’s words stayed with her long after they finished their lunch. “He’s playing needy so he can get you alone – take advantage of what’s between you.” Genny almost always trusted her companion when it came to matters like this – as a friend and as a fellow psychiatrist. But this time, something in her told her that Stella was wrong.

She hadn’t heard the desperate note in Owen’s voice – so unlike his usual cool, calm blasé. He had truly sounded lost and alone – something that called not only to her as a doctor, but as a woman.

She took the hour after lunch to go over some paperwork, principle among which were a few reports on Lieutenant Sinclair’s progress. Well…until last night, there hadn’t been very much to speak of. She thought she might wait another few weeks to submit the paperwork. That morning, she’d also received an email from Doctor Bradley asking how she was doing with her newest patient.

Biting her lip, Genevieve contemplated how to answer him. Was there any way she could mention what was between she and Owen without sounding unprofessional? Would it inspire Doctor Bradley to perhaps re-refer him? A month ago, she would have liked nothing better…but now, she was on the cusp of a breakthrough. She could feel it.

She was still contemplating what to write when she received a buzz from the office secretary.

Doctor Kant wanted to see her.

At the summons, Genevieve frowned. Since what had happened with Staff Sergeant McAvoy, she and her supervisor had had relatively little contact. She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t fired her in the wake of her outburst, but she thought she might be
more
grateful to the man if he dropped dead. In the past month, there had been a lot of activity in the man’s office from outside agencies. When she had gotten Owen’s referral, Admiral Jefferson Trace had come into the office personally to speak to him – and she’d had no idea if their conversation had anything to do with her or not.

Now, the young woman rose from her desk, straightening her blazer and her spine as she strode from the office and down the long hall to Kant’s private enclave. Just before the immense door emblazoned with his name plate, she hesitated.

He almost never asked to see her. He
knew
she disliked him. So, what could this be about?

Taking a deep breath, she knocked at the door.

“Enter.”

She found the man seated behind his desk, as usual, grey eyes steely behind his thick spectacles. He gestured to the seat before him. “Genevieve. Thank you for coming. Please have a seat.”

Warily, the young woman stepped forward to sink into the same armchair she’d been in when he’d given her the news about Spencer. “Dr. Kant. May I ask what this is about?”

The man allowed her a thin smile. “I’d expect no less. Though I’m sure you have some idea.”

So it involved Owen.

Crossing her legs primly, Genevieve eyed the man before her with a neutral expression. “Lieutenant Sinclair. He was an outside referral…and the admiral paid us a visit a few weeks ago. I’m sure the two are somehow connected.”

Dr. Kant nodded curtly. “Indeed they are. I wonder, Genevieve, did you know that in the past five years, funding for this hospital has been cut by thirty five percent?”

Genny stared at him. She wasn’t’ unaware of these changes. They’d necessitated that everyone in the office take fewer patients – and that there were less facilities available to those patients. “I’ve heard, yes.” To say the very least.

“And you’re aware that if funding continues to fall, it will mean staff cuts to the hospital? Very drastic cuts?” The statement was pointed; and as Kant stared her down, Genevieve realized that this was the first very real threat to her position that she’d received since beginning work at Riperton. No doubt her supervisor would begin the cuts with those who disagreed with his methods, to weed out dissent in the department. The less dissent that existed, the freer he’d be to make callous decisions with little backlash.

“Well, I assume that, as the supervisor, you’ll make whatever decisions need to be made to keep the program afloat.” It was the most diplomatic answer she could form, currently, and Genny believed she was being quite admirable in keeping her cool under the circumstances.

“Actually, Genny,” She winced at the nickname from the man’s lips, “I’ve called you here to inform you of the unique opportunity you’ve presented the department with.” When he continued, the young woman’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Admiral Trace has informed me of the importance of Lieutenant Sinclair’s return to the SEALs Program. He’s suggested that his successful rehabilitation might lead to increased funding for the program from…any number of sources.”

She honestly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The admiral had expressed a desire for Lieutenant Sinclair to
return
to the SEALs? While Genevieve knew that he’d chosen early retirement, she didn’t think that having him return to active duty as a SEAL was the answer. Not with traumatizing events so recent in his history.

“So…let me get this straight: if I rehabilitate the lieutenant, we’ll get an influx of funding?” Where
exactly
was that funding coming from? She frowned. “From where?”

“Does it matter?” Kant returned crisply, his grey eyes cold. “You’ve been provided with the opportunity to save your job and this psychiatry department, Dr. Thomas. I would think you’d leap at the chance.”

The man’s detachment was breathtaking. It wasn’t like she could just snap her fingers and make Owen well. Of all people, Kant should know that psychiatry didn’t work like that. “What if I can’t help him?” Her question was whispered, low, tinged with fear of the answer.

“Then,
I
will.” He responded crisply, his smile returning. “Rest assured that I will do
anything
in my power to get the lieutenant back into working order.”

Genevieve’s mouth dropped open in horror. He meant drugs. He meant manipulation. What Kant spoke of wasn’t really help at all….but supporting his own reign over the psychiatry department. Of course, she didn’t want to lose her job – she didn’t want
anyone
to lose their job…but if the alternative was to give patients unnecessary medications – to
lie
about a man’s psychological evaluation before sending him back out into the combat that traumatized him…she couldn’t condone that.

She wouldn’t.

“Daniel, you’re out of your mind. Owen needs help, not meds.”

“Then I suppose you’d better hurry that
help
along.” Kant’s smile grew even thinner. “You have until the end of the year to deliver results before I step in.”

This was ridiculous. She couldn’t believe that the admiral would do this to one of his own soldiers – to a man willing to give his life for his country.

But then…men of power worked in mysterious, and often unscrupulous ways. Genevieve’s eyes narrowed as she glared at her supervisor, her blood boiling with disgust. Six months. How was she supposed to deliver anything in six months?

“Thank you so much for your cooperation, Genny.”

And now he was dismissing her.

Seconds passed, in which Genny wished her connections were high enough to expose this man for what he really was: a money hungry fraud, with no concern whatsoever for the people that came to him to get their lives back.

Slowly, she rose, turning her back on her viper of a supervisor to return, numb, back down the hall to her cubicle.

As she sank back into her chair, the secretary poked her head in once more, jolting Genevieve from her thoughts as she announced that her next patient had arrived.

Her eyes wide, the young woman glanced at the clock. It was nearly three o’clock – which meant four hours until she was supposed to meet Owen.

And then six months after that to work with him before Kant poisoned him. Christ….what was she supposed to do? There was no way to tell the man. He’d depended on the system to help him for what seemed like an eternity to no end, and now that he was finally ready to open up, that same system was exploiting him.

“Genny?” She glanced around to see Stella peeking into her cube with a frown, extending an iced coffee to her. “You alright?” Her eyes flickered toward the hallway that led to Daniel Kant’s office. “What did Kant want?”

This was not the time or place to speak about it, and if anyone knew that, it was Genny. She was going to have enough of a time facing Owen later on that night, knowing that she was just a pawn to bring him back into a very dangerous game.

Swallowing thickly, she forced herself to smile. “Nothing. Nothing important.”

Surprisingly, the rest of the day seemed to pass in a flash. The appointment that Genny had anticipated all morning suddenly seemed much too soon for comfort. She made her way through her last two appointments of the afternoon before sending Doctor Bradley a very ambiguous e-mail. Then, she had barely an hour to get through a mountain of paperwork before the clock read six thirty.

Her stomach twisting in discomfort, the young woman reluctantly left the hospital, headed into the suburbs in search of the address in Owen’s file. He lived in a modest ranch home about twenty minutes from the hospital, and once she’d parked outside, Genevieve hesitated, her hand on the door handle.

She had to be in her element – for Owen more than anyone else. She’d never rehabilitated a patient with a timeline in place, but if she didn’t work with Owen to meet this one, he might very well never get the help he needed.

Steeling herself, she stepped from her car and began up the walkway. Before she could raise her hand to knock, however, the door opened. There was the pronounced clicking of nails on a wooden floor before a large, broad head poked from the doorway.

The Rottweiler was enormous – easily one hundred pounds – and powerful. It’s physique was as muscled as its master’s and Genny braced herself for the immense animal to jump on her-

“Eddie, heel.”

As if a switch had been thrown, the dog planted its hindquarters on the front step before its tongue lolled out of its mouth. Eddie’s tail whipped back and forth in a frenzy as he stared up at Genevieve inquiringly with round blue eyes.

Slowly, the young woman raised her eyes from him to his master standing before her.

Owen looked a wreck.

Though the sight of his tall, well-made form still made her knees weak, the dark circles under his eyes and tight line of his mouth worried her more than anything else. “Hello, Owen.” She tried to keep that worry from her voice as she smiled up at him. “This must be Eddie.” She held out her hand to the precocious dog to have it sniffed enthusiastically before Eddie licked the tips of her fingers, giving her permission to pet him.