Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
“No tricks today,” Josiah warned as they took their seats in the waiting room.
Things had been surprisingly good between them since their talk yesterday. Not that he’d said much, well, not really, but admitting he hadn't spoken to his family in years, hadn't communicated in any way save for the text to his mom, was a lot for him.
More than he was comfortable with.
Only with Chelsea, it didn't feel as uncomfortable as he expected.
She wasn't afraid of him. If it weren't for the fact that she’d climbed onto his lap to soothe him, he might not have believed it. But she wouldn't have done that if she feared him. Wouldn't have touched him with gentleness, uttered soft, reassuring words, and told him she understood.
Chelsea was right, no one could truly understand what it was like to survive an onslaught of bullets that took out the entire rest of your team.
Men you respected, considered brothers, trusted in a way most people would never trust another human being.
To lose them was devastating, but to be the only survivor … that hurt more than anything else.
He should be dead right now.
For the last six years, he had wished daily that he’d died alongside his team.
But today … today instead of wishing he was dead, he worried about who would be here with Chelsea right now if he’d died that day.
Someone else would have done this undercover mission, he was sure of it, and Chelsea may or may not have volunteered to tag along.
If she had, whoever was with her couldn’t have cared more about her safety than he did.
Not possible.
“No tricks? You're no fun.” Chelsea pouted, but amusement danced in her big, gray eyes.
Those eyes reminded him of storm clouds, but not the dangerous kind that brought damaging winds and flooding rains, the kind that came after a long, hot summer’s day, clearing away the heat and refreshing the landscape.
That’s how she made him feel.
Refreshed. Almost clean. Almost.
“You’re incorrigible,” he muttered, but one side of his mouth couldn’t help but kick up into something that almost resembled a smile.
Her answering smile was nothing short of a burst of sunlight, and because he was supposed to be in character now anyway, Josiah didn't resist the urge to reach out and brush his knuckles along her cheek like he normally would.
Somehow her smile got brighter, as did his urge to kiss her.
One taste.
That couldn’t hurt anything.
Could it?
Of course it could. More than that, it could destroy the delicate balance he maintained only by ruthlessly keeping his emotions in check.
Thankfully, before he could do something stupid like throw caution to the wind and finally kiss the woman who had the power to decimate his control, Chelsea’s name was called, and they both stood.
While he could claim the only reason he reached for her hand was because of their charade, that would have been a lie. The reason he took her hand was simple. Because he wanted to. Nothing more and nothing less. The more time he spent with her, the harder it was to maintain control.
“How are you this morning, Mrs. Fleet?” Dr. Wood asked as he ushered them both into his office.
The man had had his secretary organize this appointment at the last minute, they weren't supposed to meet with him again for another week.
Since the meeting was at the hospital and not some undisclosed location where the trafficking ring might try to ambush them, they were both assuming this was going to be good news.
“Well, I'm feeling okay, as good as I can hope for right now, but …” Chelsea trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and darting glances to him and then back to the doctor.
If he didn't know better, he would believe that she was scared of something, definitely nervous. Who knew the woman was such a good actress? If she’d told him of her skills, maybe he wouldn't have worried quite so much about taking on this mission with her.
Maybe.
But probably not.
Most likely, he would have worried just as much.
“Yes?” Dr. Wood prompted. While they couldn’t say the man was cold and calculating, he also wasn't warm and fuzzy.
Not the kind of doctor you felt truly cared about you as a person, but not one who made you feel like a bother either.
The kind you usually trusted because they were friendly enough and also professional enough that you believed they could save you.
“Is it bad news?” Chelsea blurted out as he guided her into a seat.
“Bad news?” Dr. Wood asked.
“We weren't supposed to see you again until next week, but your assistant called and said we needed to come in today,” Chelsea explained. “I was hoping that didn't mean you had bad news for us.”
“Oh no, not at all,” the doctor rushed to assure her as he rounded his desk and dropped into his plush leather chair. “The opposite in fact.”
“Opposite?” Josiah demanded as he took the room’s only other chair, the one beside Chelsea, and threw the doctor a glare.
Thankfully, he did not have to play much of a role because his acting skills were not up there with Chelsea’s.
They were passable, but this wasn't the usual work he’d done as a SEAL, or working as part of Prey’s Cyber Team.
“I work here at the hospital, but I also work for a private clinic,” Dr. Wood began.
“Okay,” Chelsea said slowly.
They needed to hear the doctor spell something out if they were going to get the man arrested and thrown in prison. So far, the cameras and microphone they’d planted in his office had yielded nothing concrete that would help with that goal.
“We have some connections that the hospital doesn’t have,” Dr. Wood continued. “And sometimes we are able to procure organs that traditional methods are unable to.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Chelsea asked.
“Sometimes we have families who wish to bypass a little red tape.”
“Red tape?” Josiah growled.
“Some people who have lost loved ones want to make sure that those organs actually make it to a person in need,” Dr. Wood told them with what could only be described as fake compassion. There wasn't a drop of sincerity in his words. “Unfortunately, sometimes red tape gets in the way of that.”
None of that was true, of course. The organ registry did everything in its power to get the limited number of donated organs to those who needed them the most. Unfortunately, there was a massive shortage of people willing to donate their organs, which left an opening for trafficking rings just like the one Dr. Wood worked for to step in and take advantage of dying people and their loved ones.
“You mean bypassing the law?” Chelsea asked in a soft voice.
Before the doctor could answer, Josiah growled out a question of his own. “Is it a better chance at finding her a match?”
Dr. Wood met his gaze squarely. “Yes. Much better.” The doctor offered no answer to Chelsea’s question, so they couldn’t get an outright admission that he was breaking the law, but his non-answer was, in fact, answer enough.
“How do we get an appointment at this clinic?” Josiah asked.
“I’ve already put your name on the list,” the doctor assured him. “You understand that since this is a private clinic, the costs might be a little higher than if you were to wait for an organ through more traditional means.”
Not a little higher. Way higher. Given the cost of receiving a transplant was already astronomical, he had no doubt the costs of buying a black-market organ would be in the millions.
Not that it mattered to them, Prey would foot the bill, and once the trafficking ring was disassembled and Desiree Tilly and all who worked for her imprisoned, they would get the money back.
No doubt get all the money the ring had and use it in some way to help the families of those who had perished at the ring’s hands and those who had survived their horrors.
“Money is not an issue,” he said, a little surprised by how strong and confident the words came out.
They were what the doctor needed to hear him say to ensure they got themselves a meeting with this “clinic,” but he also meant it with absolute honesty.
When it came to Chelsea’s safety, there was nothing he wouldn't pay or do to ensure it.
“I'm happy to hear that, Mr. Fleet, very happy to hear that. If you're happy to proceed, I will ensure all of Mrs. Fleet’s records are sent to the clinic so we can begin the search for a match of our own. Of course, she will be kept on the more traditional lists as well. Best of both worlds.”
“Do it,” he agreed. “I won't lose my wife.” Chelsea might not really be his wife, but he couldn’t lose her.
She was the only sunshine left in his life, and these last few days had forced him to confront feelings he usually kept buried with ease.
He just had no idea what place she had in his life or what place he wanted her to have.
May 14th
4:58 P.M.
“So …” Josiah said slowly as they both climbed out of the car.
“Yeah?” Chelsea prompted when he didn't continue. She was worn out after this afternoon’s appointment.
It had gone so much better than they could have hoped for, pretty much as perfect as possible, but it had been exhausting.
Making sure that every word out of her mouth was appropriate and what one would really say if they were truly in the situation she was pretending to be in.
Balancing knowing about the ring, but Dr. Wood now coming right out and admitting he was part of it, monitoring every facial expression, and the pressure not to fail, it had worn her down.
Now they were back at their rented townhouse, she expected Josiah to go and hide out in the gym like he usually did, and she intended to take a nap.
Since she had no idea if he’d eat dinner with her or not, she would probably make something quick and easy, but right now she was too nauseous to worry about food.