Chater 1

PROLOGUE

OWEN

Where is she?

I keep my head low, but my eyes are all over the place, trying to locate my target. It isn’t easy with my hair hanging in my eyes, though.

Usually, I keep a clean shaved head, but I don’t have to act homeless.

Homeless and sick, of course. Which is why I ‘need’ medical help.

Who the fuck is that?

I recognize the guy who’s just walked in. Tall, menacing, sharp eyes… I’ve seen those eyes before, but I can’t place him. I need him to turn and face me.

But if he turns and faces me, and recognizes me too, I’m gunna need to grab my gun.

“Sir, are you all right?” A receptionist grabs my attention. Remembering the rouse, I clutch my stomach and moan. “It won’t be long. We’ll have a nurse with you soon.”

I nod, praying for the right nurse.

I only want to see Emma O’Connell. No one else will do.

Fuck, I stink.

I know I need to smell or no one will believe that I’ve been living in the streets for years, with nowhere else to go. The people working in this clinic are angels really; they will help anyone. Even a man like me with the scruffiest beard known to man.

But sometimes, even good people are targeted.

Automatically, I sit up a little straighter when the man settles across from me. My heart starts to pound with anticipation. Is shit about to go down here?

But he doesn’t even glance my way.

I guess my undercover disguise is working for me.

Maybe that’s why I have the reputation I do. I’ve never failed a job before, and I won’t ever. That’s not me.

“Wilson Anderson.”

That name flies through the air, everyone shuffling in their seats as disappointment ricochets through them. I don’t know why they’re so pissed off. I’ve been here for ages! “Wilson Anderson.” Oh fuck.

That’s me.

I gave the name in such a hurry that I didn’t even think about it. But now it’s time. Still groaning, I rise to my feet and shuffle forwards.

At least I can play off the mistake by being ‘too sick’.

I’ve been watching Emma O’Connell for long enough to know she’s on shift tonight, but there are another couple of nurses, too. I wasn’t listening carefully enough to the voice to be sure that it was her.

I need to know.

How the hell am I going to find out?

The idea flashes through my mind, a way to check I’m being seen by the right person. I reach across and grab the nearest chair, groaning louder like the pain has gotten worse.

But I miss the chair.

I grab onto nothing, and I fall.

Chaos is already erupting by the time I hit the floor. The person on the nearest chair to me scoots away, not wanting to get caught up by my scent or whatever disease I might be suffering from. Someone even cries out like I’m lunging to attack.

But for all the people racing to get away, I sense one coming towards me.

“Oh my goodness, Mr. Anderson. Let me help you.” Not only is the voice soft and sweet, so is the touch.

Warm fingers curl around my arm and reach behind my back, sending a strange electrical pulse pounding through my whole body.

Whoever this is, she isn’t worried about catching anything from me.

I dare to look up, to be sure this is the face I want to see.

Oh hell yeah.

Piercing blue eyes, soft cheekbones, long jet black hair braided down her back… this is definitely my target. I’ve seen this face lots of times in photographs.

When I look into her eyes, I’m struck hard in a way I wasn’t when seeing the photos. Something drastic sizzles between us both, especially when her lips curl up into a smile.

I swallow hard.

“Come on, Mr. Anderson,” she continues kindly. “Let’s get you on your feet, then we can take a look at you.” I’m speechless.

That never fucking happens.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers delicately to me as soon as I’m on my feet. “No one is looking at you. You don’t have to be embarrassed in a place like this. People fall all the time.”

Wow.

I didn’t expect to be treated like a human being dressed like this.

I’m not homeless, but if I were, Emma would be a beacon of sunshine in my life.

“So, you are having stomach issues, is that right?” she asks as we head into her office. “And your chest? Did you say something about your chest?”

All I can do is nod while she pulls out the stethoscope once she’s settled me on the only bed in the whitewashed, sparse room. Her touching me through my clothes was bad enough. I don’t know if I can hold my shit together with her hands on my damn skin.

“It’s tight,” I hiss back as she gently touches my chest.

“Can you lift up your top for me, so I can get a good listen to your heart?”

She’s dangerously close.

I can actually feel her breath which is intense. Despite the scent wafting off me, Emma isn’t backing away from me.

A consummate professional at all times.

“Right, well your heart sounds good, which is a great thing.” Emma smiles at me, not showing any sign of seeing through the rouse, thank God. I don’t know how well I’m playing it off, if I’m honest. “So tell me more about your stomach pains. I think we should be more concerned about that at the moment, since it’s causing you so much trouble.”

I part my lips, but no words immediately come out. I’m still fucking speechless, which doesn’t help a thing. But Emma continues to grin at me like she’s over the moon to have me in her clinic.

I don’t think she knows it, but Emma O’Connell just made my job a million times harder.