Page 41 of Marked

“Wait! Are you even old enough to be a doctor?”

“Really, Lanie? Let the doctor do her job.” Waverly sounded partly exasperated, partly amused as she scolded me.

“What? She looks like she’s twelve.” My attention returned to the woman in question. “Sorry, Barb, but you do.”

She smiled, a reassuring smile. “I’m thirty-seven. I’m definitely old enough.”

“Damn.” I whistled. “What skin care products do you use?”

“I’ll send you the link when we’re done.”

There was no more talk, she simply lowered her hand and stabbed me with the needle. Okay, stabbed may have been a stretch, but it sure as hell felt like more than the pinch she’d promised.

At the first sign of distress, Noah was there, holding me close until the blessed lidocaine dulled even the slightest twinge. He was the best distraction in the worst of circumstances. Between the cadence of his deep voice and the hushed words he whispered in my ear, I must’ve drifted off. The next thing I knew, Dr. Barb was hovering over me, pulling off her gloves.

“All finished. Eight stitches in total. Three on the inside, five on the outside. You were very lucky, Agent Biggs.”

Luck—in my opinion—hadn’t played a role in the last twelve or so hours, but I didn’t bother correcting her. Our time in the woods was well above her pay grade anyway. Since the drug-induced brain fog was starting to lift, my investigator instincts kicked into gear. Whoever shot at us was sloppy and inexperienced; definitely not a hired gun. No, this was personal.

“I’ll walk you out, Doctor.”

Waverly pushed off the wall and held the door wide for Barb. As I watched the two of them exit, I realized just how out of it I’d actually been. My boss, Special Agent in Charge Waverly Mitchell, was wearing black cargo pants, boots, and a black long-sleeve shirt. I’d never seen the woman in anything other than high-heels and power suits.

If I was into women, I’d do her.

“Jesus Christ,” Noah sputtered.

“What?”

“You really need to learn how to keep your inner monologue…inner.”

Well, shit.

“Sit your butt back down on the sofa, Alaina Lyn. I told you I’d get whatever you need.”

“I need to pee, Mom.” I didn’t. My bladder was bone dry, but I’d been left with no choice except to lie to the woman who gave me life. “How are you gonna do that for me?”

“There’s no reason to be crass.” She shook her head as I gingerly got to my feet.

Mom hadn’t stopped fussing since we got back from the hospital. First she cried and—since I’m a sympathetic crier—I broke down like a leaky faucet. Then she insisted I rest for the remainder of the day. Rest was one thing. Being treated like an invalid was another. I knew she only had my best interest at heart, but she was driving me to the brink of insanity.

What made matters worse was I didn’t have anyone around to run interference. Dad and Lee were just happy she hadn’t pulled them into her crazy, while Noah and all my so-called friends abandoned my ass so they could discuss a case I had every right to be a part of. Maybe that’s why I was snappy. If anyone should be deciding my fate, it was me. Or it could be the fact my pain meds were starting to wear off. Whichever it was, my destination was the same.

Hence, why I lied to Mom. And when I reached the doorway to the kitchen, I knew I’d made the right decision.

“Fuck you, Koen,” Noah growled.

“It might be the only way to get a confession. Just hear me out.”

“If I wanted to putyourwoman in danger, would you listen?”

“She wouldn’t be in any danger, Noah,” Koen implored. “We’d have eyes on her the whole time.”

“No way in hell.”

“Sheis a highly capable FBI agent.” Taking two steps into the room, I crossed my arms over my chest, hiding the discomfort at the way the action pulled at my stitches. “How about you let me decide if something is worth the risk, Cowboy?”

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Noah pulled out the chair next to him, patting the foam cushion on the seat. He’d flipped from pissed off to sweet and caring on a dime. “Are you in pain?”

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