Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
As tempting as the barbecue sounds, what I’m most looking forward to this weekend is quiet time at home.
With Peter.
The man I’m finding hard to hate.
* * *
Several hours later, I trudge back into the locker room, exhausted. My patient’s uterus ruptured, and I had to perform an emergency C-section to save her and the baby. Fortunately, both made it through okay, but I have a splitting headache from hunger and extreme tiredness.
I can’t wait to get home, heat up whatever Peter might’ve prepared for dinner, and, if I’m lucky, get a massage as I’m falling asleep.
“Dr. Cobakis?”
The female voice sounds vaguely familiar, and I spin around, my pulse jumping. Sure enough, I see Karen, the FBI agent/nurse who was with Agent Ryson when I woke up after Peter’s attack. Like the last time, she’s dressed in nursing scrubs, though I know she doesn’t work in this hospital.
She must be trying to blend in.
“Karen?” I try not to betray my nervousness. “What are you doing here?”
She approaches me and stops a couple of feet away. “I wanted to talk to you someplace we wouldn’t be spotted, and this seemed as good of an opportunity as any.”
I glance around the locker room. She’s right: we’re the only ones here at this time. “Why?” I turn my attention back to her. “What’s wrong?”
“A couple of months ago, you reached out to Agent Ryson,” she says quietly. “You said you felt you were being watched. At the time, we dismissed your concerns, but we’ve since received some new information.”
My throat cinches tight. “What… what new information?”
“It has to do with Peter Sokolov, the fugitive who assaulted you in your home.”
“Oh?” My voice is an octave too high.
“He was spotted in the area, just a few blocks away from this hospital. A hidden traffic camera caught his face at an angle, and our facial recognition program flagged the photo.” She cocks her head to the side. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, Dr. Cobakis, would you?”
“I…” My heartbeat is roaring in my ears, my thoughts racing in panicked circles. This is it, the opportunity to get help without Peter knowing I spoke to anyone. The FBI are already aware he’s here, and they won’t rest until they find him. I can improve the odds of their success, tell them he’s most likely at my house, and if they succeed in capturing him and his men, it’ll be truly over.
My life will be my own again.
“It’s okay, Dr. Cobakis.” Karen lays a gentle hand on my arm. “I know this is all very stressful for you, but we’ll make sure you’re safe. Just please think back to the past few weeks. Any chance someone might’ve been following you? Have you had any instances recently when you felt like you were being watched?”
All the time—because I am being watched. I want to tell her that, but the words won’t come; instead, my breathing speeds up until I’m all but hyperventilating.
Peter won’t go quietly when the agents come for him; he’ll fight, and people will get killed. He could get killed. Nausea rises in my throat as I picture his powerful body riddled with bullet holes, his intense metallic eyes dull and faded with death. It should be an image that brings me joy, but I feel sick instead, my ribcage squeezing painfully tight as I try to picture what my life will be like without him in it.
How free—and how alone—I’ll be again.
“I… No.” I take a step back, shaking my head. I know I’m not thinking clearly, but I can’t bring myself to say it. My mouth simply won’t form the words. “I haven’t noticed anything.”
A frown creases Karen’s forehead. “Nothing? Are you sure? To the best of our knowledge, you and your deceased husband are his only link to this area.”
“Yes, I’m positive.” It’s as though a stranger is speaking these lies. My headache intensifies until it’s a beating drum inside my skull, and I feel like I’m on the verge of throwing up. My thoughts skitter from one alternative to the next, my mind like a rat inside a maze. I don’t even know why I’m lying. It’s over. One way or another, it’s over—because now that they know Peter is in the area, they will come for him, no matter what I say. And if they don’t succeed in killing or capturing him, he might think that I betrayed him and make good on his threat to take me away, maybe even punish people close to me to teach me a lesson.
I should help the FBI.
It’s my best chance to be free.
“All right,” Karen says when I remain silent. “If you think of anything, here is my number.” She hands me a card, and I take it with numb fingers as she says, “We don’t want to spook him in case he is watching you for whatever reason, so we’re not going to take you into protective custody right now. Instead, we’ll put a discreet protective detail on you, and if they see anything—and I do mean anything—out of the ordinary, they will act fast to ensure your safety. In the meanwhile, please carry on with your normal activities and rest assured that the man who killed your husband will pay for what he’s done.”