The scent of lavender faded, replaced by the chemical, hospital stink that burned the insides of her nose, making her cough. The pills chattered a little in the paper cup, and she forced her hands to stop shaking. “It would really only take—”
Dr. Ransom’s head swung around and, for the first time in perhaps the entirety of her working here, he looked Samantha in the face. “Is there some reason you feel it necessary to argue with me?”
“No.” With that same bright, plastic smile, Samantha handed over the pills to the guard, who took the paper cup without even blinking. “Of course not.”
“Get back to work,” Ransom told her, already dismissing her and looking through the portal.
Samantha wasn’t dumb enough to say another word. She lingered, though, at the cart, until they brought Jed out. Not in cuffs, although the men on either side of him were clearly ready to handle him if he did anything out of line. He hadn’t in the past eighteen months, but she knew he had, a long time ago. Watching Ransom’s face, she thought the doctor was sort of hoping Jed would pull something now, so he’d have an excuse to order Jed’s restraint.
Was this it? The end of things? Were they finally taking him away? Should she react? There’d been no word from the Crew, and nothing from Wyrmwood, either. No changes in the schedule that would indicate that anything had changed.
Jed didn’t look at her when he came out of the room. Not so much as a glance over his shoulder.
She was already planning her attack when the softly drifting scent of lavender returned. She didn’t think he even knew she was there. She’d never spoken to Jed about the real reasons she’d come to Wyrmwood, but it wasn’t impossible that he knew and understood. Not out of the realm of possibility that he would know before she could, before anyone else could, that his time here was over.
Jed came back as Samantha was finishing her shift. She heard the doors open and stood up from her place at the desk to look. Ransom hadn’t come back with him. The same two guards from before were marching him to his room, a hand beneath each of his elbows to hold him up. He looked exhausted.
“Does he need something? Jed, do you need something?” She came around the desk to face them.
“Doctor said he’ll be fine, he just needs to sleep.” One of the guards gave her an assessing up-and-down look, and then a surprising grin. “I could use a little something, though.”
“Shut up, Clement,” said the other guard with a scowl. “Get this door open. Get the guy inside, okay? I want to go the hell home.”
Samantha ignored both of them and stepped closer. “Jed?”
He shook his head. “No. Just tired. I’ll sleep now. That’s all.”
He looked terrible, but so did most of the patients when they came back from a session with Ransom. Samantha hesitated, once more wondering if now was the time. She could take out the first guard, no problem, and with great satisfaction, considering how he’d leered at her. The second would be harder to topple, warned and ready, but she had no doubts that she could take care of him, too. Her fingers fairly itched to strike out at both of them, but she didn’t show any signs of it.
Vadim, the man in charge of the Crew and the one who’d brought her in on this assignment, had told her there’d be times when she felt ready to act, but that she needed to wait. She’d be told when the time was right. Until then, she was to monitor Jed. To foster a relationship with him, such as she could with limited interactions. She would have to trust the Crew, Vadim had said, and she’d have to get Jed to trust her.
Samantha had never been big on trust, either giving or receiving, but she did believe Vadim and the Crew knew what they were doing. So now, instead of going into battle mode and destroying the two dudes manhandling Jed through the door and into his room, she went back to the desk and gathered her things. She signed out, although until the next nurse showed up to cover her shift, there wasn’t much she could do.
“Hey, listen, so maybe me and you...” The first guard had come out of Jed’s room and leaned over the desk to give her a wink. “Drinks?”
“You know that’s not allowed.” Without looking at him, Samantha scanned through the security feeds on the camera, searching for any sign that her replacement was at least in the elevator.
“Hey. I’m talking to you.” He went so far as to put his hand over the top of the desk and tried to grab her shoulder.
She pulled away before he could touch her, one hand going up automatically to grip his wrist and break it, before she stopped herself. She did not smile. “I’m not interested in getting fired, Clement.”
“Yeah, that pussy isn’t worth it, anyway,” he said derisively, his mouth twisting. In the next second, he was choking, coughing, doubled over so that she had to stand and look over the edge of the desk to see what the hell was going on. The fit lasted only another few seconds, but when he stood his face was red, eyes streaming tears. He muttered a low curse and backed away from her with a scowl.
A dozen retorts leaped to her lips, but as with almost every other action she ever wanted to take while on this job, Samantha held it back. She gave Clement her patented blank smile and enjoyed the way it made him flinch. The hall door opened, letting in the nurse who’d be taking over, and Samantha pushed past him without so much as a look at his face.
The scent of lavender stayed with her the entire way home.
It was a rare day when Persephone didn’t have anything going on. No repairs to make or schedule for the building. No appointments with the small but consistent stable of men who paid her to be the woman of their dreams...or sometimes, nightmares, depending. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken feeling semi-rested, without even a tinge of anxiety following her around.
It wouldn’t last, she thought as she headed out into the morning, taking the concrete steps at the front of the building two at a time so she could get to the bodega on the corner for a cup of coffee and a candy bar. Caffeine and chocolate in hand, she was already tearing open the plastic when she bumped head-on, literally, into a man as solid as brick. She hit him hard enough to bounce off, stumbling back.
“Watch it,” she muttered, preparing to push past him.
The guy snagged the sleeve of her sweatshirt, turning her to face him. Persephone was already working, shifting, smoothing the lines and curves of her face to look like someone else. Dark hair instead of bright red-gold. Big tits. Tight top. His eyes went right there, and even if she hadn’t masked her face he’d have barely paid attention, so taken was he by the sight of her knockers.
Men, she thought with a sneer. So predictable.
“I’m looking for someone,” he said. “You seen her?”
The picture he pulled up on his phone was blurred, but definitely her. Thank god she’d automatically put on the glamour for him. The question was, why did he have a picture of her in the first place?
“Nope. Never,” Persephone said. “What’d she do?”
She thought he might say she owed him, or someone he was working for, money. That she was part of a scam. That she’d been caught up in a kinky prostitution ring, and he was part of the sting operation.
“Nothing.” Something in his cold, dead eyes left her shivering. “Just looking for her.”
Then he backed up and kept walking, leaving her behind. She watched him go, knowing that if he turned to glance back, she would still look like someone else. Uncertain if, in the end,