Undercover Lover, page 3
He started to snore lightly and jerked as he woke himself up.
“It’s all right. Keep relaxing. Concentrate on your breathing. You are safe here.”
Pam expected more anxiety from him about being in a strange place, but she was happy that his energy was lighter than she’d assumed she’d find around him. It meant he hadn’t given up on himself yet.
“I’m going to lightly touch your knee. You may feel a temperature change or even a buzzing throb. It will not hurt. Is that all right?”
Ralphie cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess.”
Pam once again asked for healing energy to work through her, and she felt a rush of warmth that she hoped was transmitted into his knee and the surrounding areas. She held her hands there for a few moments, sensing the tension leaving his body as his breathing grew deeper.
Moving her hands above the entire length of his body, she concluded with her ritual closing meditation.
“I think we’ve done all we can for the knee today, Mr. Brooks. I’d like to schedule another visit in a few days. If we don’t see any improvement, I’d like you to see a physical therapist here at the hospital.”
“Hmmm?” he said and cracked open an eye.
“Why don’t you take a few moments to center yourself. I’m going to get you a cool glass of water.”
“Thanks.” He began stretching, and she watched the play of muscles move under his shirt.
Shaking herself out of the half-trance she’d almost dropped back into, she opened up the mini fridge and pulled out a pitcher of water with lemon slices floating in it. Pouring him a glass, she waited until he was sitting up before handing it to him.
“How do you feel?”
“Sleepy,” he said. “As you can imagine, the nights have been pretty rough.”
Past memories threatened to come up, and Pam forced them back down. “I can imagine. Have you tried the local shelters or the YMCA?”
He nodded. “Don’t worry about me. I get by.”
“I’ve got some vouchers for the cafeteria. The food’s not great, but at least it’s warm—even when it isn’t supposed to be.”
“I’d appreciate that,” he said, but he didn’t meet her eyes.
“Look,” she said. “I’ve been there. I think everyone has at some point in their life. Don’t be ashamed. Don’t think about paying me back. Just pay it forward. Someday, you’ll be in the position to help someone. Do it.”
“Is that what you’re doing, Doc?” He looked up at her, and electricity zinged between them at the warmth in his green eyes.
“I do what I can,” she said.
“Well, thank you. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.” He handed her back the empty glass.
“Let me get those vouchers for you,” she said and went into her desk for them.
“Thanks again,” he said, taking the red coupons from her.
“How does your knee feel?”
“It felt like it was on fire on the table, but now it’s bearable. I’m not sure how much of that is from just resting it though.”
“You don’t have to believe anything you don’t want to,” she assured him. “But I’d like to see you again next Friday.”
“I’d like that too.” He grinned at her, and her heart did a little dance.
“Bye,” she said, feeling like a high school kid with a crush.
He gave her a mock salute and walked out. She told herself she was just watching to see if he was limping and not checking out his butt.
Chapter Four
Pam paid a visit to Piotr’s mother’s tea shop a few days later. It was in her old neighborhood. She drove past her old house, and like she did every Sunday when she came this way for tea and cake, she sent positive energy their way. Lord knew all the negative energy from when they lived there needed to be expelled somehow.
She parked behind the shop and hurried in through their back door before the rain that was threatening to come down started in earnest.
“Pam,” the owner of Tea Time, Vera Serov, said. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I couldn’t stay away from your prianiks. I swear I can smell them baking in my dreams.”
“You just might,” Vera said. “They are that good.”
Pam sat down in her usual spot by the window.
“Would you like the spice tea blend today?”
“Actually, I’m going to go for the herbal and the vegetable prianiks today.”
“Coming right up.” Vera smiled at her, and Pam wondered if she knew that Pam was pressing charges against her son, or if she kept herself out of Piotr’s business because it hurt less that way.
While she waited for her tea, she stared out the window and watched the people. It was rough on the outside. She could see people driving by with their windows firmly rolled up and no doubt their doors locked against the young men and women hanging out on parked cars or against the buildings. Pam watched a dice game going on and remembered blowing on her father’s lucky dice and hoping he didn’t crap out.
She jumped when Vera set the teapot and teacup in front of her.
“Vera, about Piotr…” she started to say.
Vera shook her head and held up a hand. “I know. I’m so sorry he bothered you. But he’s an adult, and he has to take the consequences for his actions. I indulged him too much, I’m afraid. Maybe if I had a husband or if I hadn’t had him so young, he would have turned out different,” she said sadly.
“It’s not your fault. You were, are, a great mother.” Pam laid a hand on her arm. “Sometimes, it’s just the street takes the people we love, and we’re left with the collateral damage.”
“Yes,” Vera said. “Like your papa.”
Vera had been such a good friend to her in high school. She had let Pam stay over at her house when things got real bad.
“I’ll drop the charges,” Pam said. “As long as he keeps away from me.”
“No, don’t. He won’t.”
“What if he goes to jail?” Pam said. Like my brother remained unspoken between them.
“Then maybe he won’t wind up hurting anyone.”
The bells over the door jangled, and a good-looking man in a suit walked in. He was a big guy, nearly had to walk in sideways through the door. He wore mirrored sunglasses, and when he turned his head to look at Pam, she could see her reflection. His dark blond hair was slicked back tight against his scalp, and when he turned to face Vera, Pam saw that he had a ponytail tight against the back of his neck and tucked into his jacket. He looked like a cross of a Men in Black extra and a Chippendale’s dancer. Pam decided he was better eye candy than the street punks outside and unashamedly watched him.
“Hello, detective,” Vera said. “Are you here on business or pleasure?”
“I was hoping for a little of both. Have you seen Piotr?”
She shook her head, and her shoulders drooped, as if the weight of the world had just crashed down on them. “No. I haven’t seen him in two days, but that’s not out of the ordinary. He doesn’t live with me anymore, but he usually comes around for lunch.”
“Do you mind if I wait a bit and see if he comes in? I’d love to try some of your pumpkin oladi. Andrej speaks reverently about them.”
Vera flushed a deep red. “He’s most kind. I was thinking of asking him to help me pick out a dog to adopt.”
“He’d be the best person to talk to. He’s such a soft case, he takes in every stray he finds.”
“Sit down, Drago, and I’ll get you a pot of tea. You like black tea, yes? Same as Andrej?”
“Exactly.” The man she’d called Drago turned to Pam and caught her looking. He flashed her a smile that was all teeth.
Rawr!
“Hi, I’m Drake Logan,” he said.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Pam nodded to the empty seat across from her. Maybe having a snack with a handsome detective would shake her out of the funk being back in the neighborhood had put her in. “I’m Pam Krupin.”
He shook her hand and sat down.
“Why did Vera call you Drago, if your name is Drake?”
“My godfather calls me that.”
“You do look a bit like Ivan Drago.” She smiled.
“I vill crush you,” he said in a deep Russian accent.
Pam put a hand over her heart. “I would have totally gone for that, back in the eighties. Of course, I was only five, I think, when the movie came out.”
“Me too, but it’s a classic. So, do you work around here?” Drake moved as Vera put down his tea pot.
The strong tea smelled so much like home, she got a bit choked up.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, and when he looked at her oddly, she realized she had spoken in Russian. “Oh, I’m sorry. I said—”
“I speak Russian,” he said in the same language. Then he reverted back to English. “I was just startled to hear you speak it.”
“I’m fluent. My father spoke it at home. I spent a year of college in St. Petersburg.”
“Wow,” he said. “I’ve never been to Russia. My godfather was the one who taught me. I think you might know him. Nikolai Egorov?”
Pam smiled. “Yes, he’s a trip. Nothing slows him down, does it?”
“Not even his arthritis, which he said you help with.”
“I’m very glad to hear that. He’s a nice man. He and I speak Russian together. It keeps me from getting rusty.”
Vera brought Drake’s pancakes with her pastry, and they both dug in. They ate in companionable silence, and Pam enjoyed looking up at him through her lashes. She wished he’d take off his sunglasses. She’d like to see his eyes. The sunlight shaded in his cheekbones and strong unshaven jaw line. For an instant, she compared him to Ralphie, and the similarities had her shaking her head in bemusement. It wasn’t like her to be so besotted with a client that she saw parts of him anywhere. Maybe because he had saved her, she was putting him on a pedestal.
“I would have said something,” Drake said after he devoured his pancakes like a man possessed, “but there was a party in my mouth. Contrary to the evidence, I have eaten today.”
“I know the feeling. Vera’s the best cook.” Pam poured her last cup of tea from the pot. She was surprised to feel a little disappointed that she would have to be going back to work so soon. She was enjoying talking to Drake.
“Why don’t you take your sunglasses off? We’re inside, you know.”
“Now, if I were a cheesy dude, that would be my cue to say the light from your smile is blinding.”
“It’s my toothpaste,” Pam said.
He grinned. “Actually, I just came from the eye doctor, and he dilated my eyes. The light bothers them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Pam said.
He shrugged. “So, tell me about you? How did you wind up in Connecticut after touring Russia?”
“I ask myself that all the time. I don’t know. I used to live around here. I feel like I have a purpose at Harding General.”
“Rough neighborhood.”
“It can be.”
“I think I read a report that you were attacked the other night.”
“You’re pretty informed, detective. First pegging me as Nikolai’s doctor, and now, remembering my report.”
“It’s my job to know things.”
“Are you sure you didn’t come here looking for me instead of Piotr?”
“How would I know you would be here today?” he asked.
She looked down at her teacup, feeling foolish. “Well, there goes that theory.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I would totally stalk you if you showed the slightest interest in me.”
“Wow, that doesn’t sound at all desperate.”
“It sounded better in my head,” he admitted. “How about, just the facts, ma’am? I’m looking for Piotr. Do you know where he is?”
“No, but I don’t think Piotr is going to show up to take advantage of his mother’s cooking today,” Pam said.
“Or take advantage of his mother,” Drake said. “Is that why you came here today?”
“I don’t know why I came here,” she said. “I wanted to talk to Vera about it. I wanted a pot of tea and a goodie to eat. Maybe, I thought if Piotr showed up, he could tell me why he came after me. We could sit down like adults over tea and talk it out.”
“Your report said they told you they were working for Oksana Bobrov.”
“Oksana’s not returning my calls. If she wanted me that bad, why won’t she pick up the phone?”
They stood up to leave when Vera brought over their checks. Drake took both checks and pulled out his wallet.
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested and tried to take her check from him.
“It’s the least I could do. Besides, it’s my pleasure to treat a beautiful woman to lunch. I usually only get to buy hot dogs from the street vendor for my partner and me.”
“Well, thank you,” she said graciously and then impulsively kissed him on the cheek.
His face was smooth and warm. His cheek just had the slightest brush of whisker, unlike Ralphie, whose beard was as riotous as the rest of his blond curls. Drake turned his head, and their lips just missed brushing each other. There was a flicker of desire deep in her belly, and her fingers itched to slide into his jacket and see if he had muscles to go with that suit.
Staring at his jaw, she wondered again why she was comparing him to Ralphie. Ralphie was her patient. It wouldn’t be ethical to be anything more. And this detective was a little too slick for her. Maybe it was the ponytail or him not taking off his sunglasses, but warning bells started to go off when he slid his finger down her chin and tilted it up so she was looking at her dual reflection in his sunglasses.
“Are you doing anything Friday night?” he asked.
“I’m working,” she said and stepped back. Just like that, the spell was broken. She slung her purse over her shoulder. “Thank you again for lunch. Good luck with your search.”
“Stay safe,” he said, and she felt his eyes on her as she walked out the back door.
Chapter Five
Another day, another dollar, Pam thought as she punched out at two o’clock in the morning.
She was fiddling with the buttons on her coat, trying to work up the courage to go out to her car. After biting the bullet and paying for a month in the secure garage, Pam should have felt safer. There were security cameras and a guard at the gate. So why was she so worried?
As she walked resolutely down the hallway, she noticed a light was on and the door was ajar in Dr. Mastandrea’s office.
“Chris? What are you still doing here?” she said after poking her head in.
He jumped like a cattle prod had poked him. His eyes were wide, and she noticed he was sweating. “What are you still doing here?”
“That stupid second shift, remember? It’s my night again.”
“Did you have any patients?” Chris got up from his desk and looked out the blinds in his window.
“I had a couple rounds to do. I guess it’s helping. The hospice patients appreciate it, if they’re up. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m expecting someone. You really should go.”
“It’s a little late for an appointment.”
“Pam, really.”
Something was wrong. Chris was not a nervous person. He was too anal-retentive to leave things unplanned. He looked frightened.
“I can help.”
“No, you can only make it worse. Please go before he sees you and you become involved too.” Chris held her arm in an unshakable grip and walked her out of his office.
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” she said.
“Sure thing.” He looked up and down the hall. “Now, just go.”
Pam walked toward the elevator and pushed the button. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him go back into his office. She crept back down the hall and opened up the janitor’s storage closet.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
Pam stifled an undignified “EEEEK!” and looked up to see a large man in the back of the small room, rising up from a crouched position. The light was dim, but she could easily recognize who it was.
“Ralphie, is that you?” she said, coming in and shutting the door so just a crack was open. She pressed up against the side of the wall and looked out the opening. “I’m so glad you got a job here.” He wore the janitor’s uniform that the hospital made their maintenance people wear.
“I saw the job posting after our appointment. Is someone after you? Do you want me to call the police?”
“Huh?” she said. “Oh, no. Dr. Mastandrea is still here.”
“That’s pretty late for him, but it doesn’t explain why you’re hanging out with the chemicals.”
“Are you sleeping here?” she asked, looking back at him. “I won’t tell if you are.” She didn’t see Ralphie’s sleeping bag or any gear in the janitor’s storage room. She’d have to get him something to sleep on. She didn’t like the thought of him lying on the cold concrete.
He nodded. “It’s only until my first couple of paychecks, and then I can afford an apartment.”
“Have you noticed anything strange going on at night here?” She kicked off her heels because they were beginning to hurt standing on the cement.
