A Risk Worth Taking. Brynn Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Jamie?” Samira had followed his gaze. Her breath shuddered. Crap. A panic attack now could be the death of them both.

      The car rolled past and pulled up on the roadside, the passenger door swinging open before the wheels stopped. The angles of the parked Mercs would protect them from view but only for a few seconds.

      Jamie pushed open the rear door and grabbed her hand. It was icy. “Out. Quick.” He slammed the door behind them and drew her to his side, his right hand hovering over his weapon. They skirted the bonnet of another Merc, dodged a paramedic holding a crying, struggling toddler and scooted in through the first of a double set of mirrored glass doors. They backpedaled a second while the second set opened. Behind them the blond goon’s head bobbed across the forecourt. Andy drove straight at him, forcing him to lurch backward, briefly cutting him off. They were definitely even.

      Inside, the waiting room had been upgraded to something resembling a posh airport lounge. In the middle was a circular reception desk in a bubble of light. Jamie adjusted his path, scanning the faces of the staff.

      “Jamie,” Samira whispered, tightening the straps of the rucksack on her back, “there’s a woman staring swords right at you.”

      So there was. A tall, trim figure in a white shirt, a tablet in her hands, leaning back against the reception desk, looking noticeably less accommodating than the junior doctor he remembered. As they approached, he glanced behind. Beyond the mirrored glass, Blondie was checking the back of an ambulance.

      “Looking well, Harriet,” he said.

      “That’s because you’re no longer around.” Her gaze dropped to where his hand joined Samira’s and then rose to Samira’s face. What was that—pity? Whatever happened to jealousy? She clutched the tablet like it was a ballistic chest plate. “I assume you want something.”

      “I need to borrow your security pass, just for five minutes. And quite quickly.”

      She raised thin eyebrows. “And that doesn’t sound at all dodgy.”

      “We’re passing straight through—I won’t touch a thing, I promise. There’s a guy following us. We have to lose him.”

      “Is he a cop?”

      “No.”

      “What did you do to him? Maybe I should let him catch up.”

      “Harriet...” He sharpened his tone. She needed to think he still posed a threat.

      “You know I could lose my job? I’ve only just recovered from the last time we—” She glanced at Samira. “Traded favors.”

      “Only if somebody finds out. And you know I don’t share secrets.”

      Her mouth tightened, a pucker of smoker’s fissures. They both knew he had her at “secrets.” Blondie was nearing the automatic doors.

      “Seriously, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” he said. “I don’t have time to explain.”

      “Good. I don’t want to hear it.”

      She exhaled in disgust and swiveled. They followed her around the circular desk until they were shielded from view of the entrance. He squeezed Samira’s hand, which hadn’t defrosted one degree. Harriet swiped at a security check and pushed a door open, ushering them into a deserted hallway—leading to the acute ward, if that hadn’t changed. The door swished closed and the lock clicked. He pulled Samira away from a window set into the door.

      Harriet hugged the tablet again. “Did you ever stop running, James, this whole time?”

      “Nope. That’s why I’m so square-jawed and fit.”

      “Oh, please don’t think I’m going to go all weak-kneed from one smile. I’m immune to you. I’ve developed antibodies against the virus that is James Armstrong. We’re even now, right?”

      He held out his palm. “Card.”

      “Which gate are you heading to?”

      “We’ll go out the west staff entrance to the Thames Path.”

      She yanked her lanyard over her ponytail and shoved it into his hand. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Straight through. Keep it out of sight. Don’t talk to anyone.”

      He closed his fingers around it. “Didn’t plan to.”

      “Mariya’s charge nurse in the Princess Alice wing today. Leave it with her—no one else. I take it you remember her.”

      Mariya. His luck was holding. “I do, as a matter of fact.”

      “Don’t let the bosses see you, and for God’s sake, restrain yourself from operating on anyone on your way through. We can all do without your ‘help.’”

      “Ah, you know me so well, Harriet.”

      “To my eternal regret.” She drummed trimmed fingernails on the back of the tablet. “This makes us even, right?”

      “Guess so.”

      “Good. I look forward to never seeing you again.”

      “Nice catching up, Harriet. And you might want to call the cops to pick up the tall blond guy who has just walked into the A&E. Blue jeans, brown leather jacket. He has a gun.”

      She swore, raising a palm, dismissively. “Oh God. It never ends with you, does it?”

      “I’m serious, about the guy.”

      “Just. Go.”

      The department’s renovations evidently hadn’t progressed further than the waiting area. A two-star hotel with a gleaming false advertisement of a lobby. He pulled Samira into a dingy corridor toward radiology, the hospital layout coming back to him like a blueprint overlaid onto his vision. His life had forged a new path but the corridors hadn’t. Still the same industrial-strength disinfectants failing to mask the stench of urine and decay. No number of interior-design consultants could disguise that. Still the same artificial lighting, so white it made even the healthy look gray and sick. Hell, it probably made people sick. And no matter what chirpy color hospitals painted their walls, how did it always end up some shade of mucus?

      Beside him, Samira looked like an incognito movie star on a surprise visit to cheer up sick children. He realized he was still holding her hand. Ah, well, couldn’t hurt. Physical contact—proven to produce oxytocin, lower blood pressure and reduce stress and anxiety. Ergo, ward off panic attacks.

       And just you keep kidding yourself it’s for her benefit.

      At the double doors into the back of cardiology, he scanned Harriet’s card over the reader. The light went red and it bleeped. Damn. He’d assumed she’d have access everywhere. They must have tightened security. He’d have to reconfigure his route.

      The doors opened and a tall bald guy in a short-sleeved white shirt and bow tie strode out, speaking to a staff nurse in a Belfast accent. Crap. Jamie spun to the handwashing station and bent over it as they passed. Samira took the hint and blocked the СКАЧАТЬ