Release. Jo Leigh

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СКАЧАТЬ moved over to the exam table and leaned against it, trim in her blue scrubs, looking him over from bottom to top.

      He needed to get the hell out of here, but he couldn’t just run. Instead he turned his side to her as he feigned interest in the supplies on the shelf. Tongue depressors, cotton balls…Yeah, this was a clever ploy. He should have just stayed in Harper’s office. What the hell was wrong with him?

      “I didn’t know we’d found someone new. What brings you to the clinic?”

      “I’m just here to lend a hand.”

      “No pun intended?”

      He wasn’t at all sure how to take that. Another quick glance found her smiling. He didn’t think she was making fun of him, so he smiled as he stepped toward the door. “Right.”

      “Well, I think it’s great. We can use all the help we can get.”

      Two women in scrubs were heading down the hall, so he stopped. “What about you?”

      “Me? I switch-hit—I get paid for working at Kaiser Permanente, at the Sunset Hospital, but I spend a lot of time volunteering here.”

      “Why here?”

      “Someone needs to do it.”

      “That’s it, huh?”

      “Well, to be honest, my attending physician looks kindly on those who give back to the community.”

      “I see.”

      “So what am I supposed to call you?”

      “Seth’ll do.”

      “Okay, Seth’ll Do. Glad to have you on board.”

      The hall was clear, so he headed out, glancing back just as he reached the hallway. Her gaze had moved down to his ass. It surprised him. Maybe he wasn’t a total turnoff. Then again, she did like charity work.

      One of the exam room doors opened, so he slipped around the corner. An older Hispanic man and a middle-aged black woman sat behind a Plexiglas barrier in a large room overrun with files. Four phones, all of which were either ringing or blinking, were within arm’s reach, as were two old computers.

      Outside that office was the waiting room. There were over a dozen people, three of whom were little kids, sitting in the ugly plastic chairs. He frowned seeing how many of the adults looked strung out and dangerous. Harper had warned him about the patient load here, but for some reason he hadn’t expected kids. Mostly that’s why the poor went to the doctor.

      He leaned against the wall to watch. Surveillance. At least he could still do a visual. Of course, if something went wrong—say, someone should happen to recognize him—he couldn’t do a thing about it except perhaps throw his fake hand at them. It might freak them out long enough for him to run like hell.

      His gaze went down again, to the weight at the end of his arm. He’d never get used to it. He’d had to carry heavy crap for years, sixty-pound packs through unrelenting heat and treacherous terrain. Nothing had ever felt this unwieldy.

      And, of course, there was that incredibly annoying phantom pain. He’d heard about that, read about it even, but it was one of those things that had to be experienced. Kind of like being shot at. If it hadn’t happened to you, you didn’t know shit.

      If the fake hand were more useful, he might have accepted the whole thing more readily. But all it did was squeeze and open. That’s it. And even though it was electric, he still had to move his shoulder to get it to do that.

      When he saw Noah, he was gonna ask him for a hook. It had to be better than this. He might be able to do something with a hook. Hurt someone. Protect himself. And, besides, it would look a hell of a lot cooler than the mannequin hand.

      A kid started crying in the waiting room, but the mother didn’t seem to notice. Seth didn’t know what she was on, but it was probably heroin, not meth, given her lethargy. Besides, she didn’t look like a meth addict. She still had reasonably nice skin and hair, although she could have used a bath.

      The kid, who must have been about two, had dropped something underneath the table and he couldn’t reach it. The more he tried, the louder he screamed. Finally a little girl, older than the screamer but not by much, came to the rescue. Not one of the adults had even batted an eye.

      It was a tough world all over. For kids, for addicts, for soldiers. And so what? None of it meant anything. Not a damn thing. He turned around. The coast was clear, so he headed back to his appointment, feeling as drained and tired as if he’d actually done something.

      HARPER WALKED INTO her office as quietly as she could. She wanted to watch as Noah applied the facial prosthetics, but she didn’t want to make Seth more self-conscious than he already was.

      Noah stood, while Seth sat in her chair with the desk lamp pointed at his face. A large toolbox was open, and inside she saw pieces of flesh-colored silicone and latex, paintbrushes and small bottles. Of more interest was Seth. He sat perfectly still, back tall, head straight, like the soldier he was. Noah was smoothing his chin with a paintbrush. When he stepped away, Harper could see the difference in Seth’s face. It was, indeed, subtle. But would she be able to swear it was the man on the poster? Maybe. But then, Noah wasn’t finished.

      She continued to watch as the painstaking process went on. And on. Every time she thought he had to be finished with the chin, he did something else with it. Shading, painting, until she would swear it was all Seth. Finally Noah gave an approving nod.

      “Take a break,” he said, his voice quiet and deep. “The nose will take longer.”

      Seth’s head bowed for a long moment. Before looking up, he said, “You gonna stand there the rest of the day?”

      “I might,” she said. “It is my office.”

      Noah turned. “How are you, Dr. Douglas?”

      “Harper,” she said, holding out her hand as she walked into the room. “I’m fine. Man, you do great work.”

      He smiled as softly as he spoke. But that was all that was soft about him. She’d learned about his past in bits and pieces, mostly from other doctors. How agents in the field would refuse dangerous assignments unless Noah was the man in charge of their disguise. How he’d been offered everything and the moon to work in Kuwait. And, finally, how he’d given it all up to work with people who’d been broken either by disease, accident or at birth. He built faces that had been destroyed by fire. He brought humanity back to those who needed it the most.

      “I do my best,” he said. “But right now I need to go wash out my brushes.”

      When he left, Seth stood up and walked over to the small mirror on her left wall. He examined his face, skimming the fake part of his chin. “Shit.”

      “I told you. You’ll be just different enough.”

      “We could have used him in Delta Force.”

      “I think he’s had enough of fighting and wars.”

      “He told me he works only on medical cases now.”

      “Yep. СКАЧАТЬ