Colton's Deep Cover--A Romantic Suspense Page 5

  With a heavy heart, she slid off the stool and left the café, tossing her half-full cup into the trash can on the sidewalk. Her gaze landed on the quaint brick building at the end of the block, the clinic where she’d finally found a sense of purpose and belonging. The thought of giving up her job was pure torture.

  So was the notion of never seeing Derek again.

  She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to like and respect him these past three weeks. How much she looked forward to seeing that gorgeous face of his every day, watching those capable hands tending to the patients who adored him.

  Swallowing a lump of sorrow, Chloe returned to the clinic just as Stu Robertson was leaving. She smiled at the elderly man, then turned to Derek, who was bent over the reception desk murmuring something to Nancy. His white coat stretched over his broad back and shoulders, and she caught a glimpse of his handsome profile, those firm lips, that strong jaw, his proud forehead.

  She fought a jolt of desire and a twinge of regret, wishing things could be different. That she could be the kind of woman that a man like Derek could fall in love with.

  As if sensing her eyes on him, Derek turned, a half-smile lifting his lips. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  At least stay for the rest of the day. You can’t leave him in the lurch.

  Chloe ignored the inner plea, knowing that if she was going to quit, leaving Derek in the lurch was exactly the way to do it. If she left in the most unprofessional, distasteful manner, then the chances of him tracking her down and begging her to stay would be nonexistent.

  So rather than smiling back, she slowly shook her head in response to Derek’s question.

  His expression instantly sobered. “What’s going on?”

  She crossed the room on shaky legs, cast Nancy a discreet look, then met Derek’s brown eyes. “Can we talk in your office for a moment?”

  * * *

  Amelia had quit.

  She’d quit.

  Derek still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

  After his nurse had pretty much sprinted out the door as if a psycho killer was chasing her, he’d desperately wanted to run after her, but he couldn’t just walk away when he had a waiting room full of patients expecting to see him. For the first time in his life, he found himself cursing his success. A booming practice was every doctor’s dream, but today, the endless string of appointments had become Derek’s worst nightmare. All he wanted to do was find Amelia and try to make sense of what had happened. Instead, he’d forced himself to go about his day—seeing patients and updating charts—all the while fighting the urge to kick something.

  Only yesterday she’d been thrilled to accept a permanent position. What the hell had changed?

  I made a mistake.

  Small-town life isn’t for me, after all.

  Her feeble excuses continued to flash through his head, burning a hole in his gut, which roiled with anger and frustration.

  “Will you excuse me for a second?” Derek said, cutting Rita Vernon off midsentence.

  The elderly patient wrinkled her nose. “Is something wrong?” She paled. “Do my symptoms sound serious?”

  “No, no,” he said quickly.

  “High cholesterol? Anemia? Oh, God—please don’t say cancer!”

  Derek inwardly cursed Amelia for leaving him in the lurch like this. Mrs. Vernon was a bona fide hypochondriac who showed up at the clinic nearly every other day, but Amelia had had a soothing effect on the woman the last time she’d come in, which had made Derek’s job a helluva lot easier. Now he was on his own, and as he fielded Mrs. Vernon’s panicked questions, his frustration levels skyrocketed.

  “Mrs. Vernon, I’m fairly certain that you are of absolute perfect health. I just need to excuse myself so I can grab your file, okay?”

  Because he’d forgotten to bring it into the exam room with him. Because that was Amelia’s damn job.

  Mrs. Vernon relaxed. “Oh. All right.”

  As Derek slid out the door and headed for the file room, he pulled his cell phone from the breast pocket of his coat and dialed his brother’s number.

  Tate picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Doc, what’s up?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Hit me.”

  Balancing the phone on his shoulder, Derek yanked open the file cabinet. “Amelia just quit,” he muttered. “Can you—”

  “She quit?” Tate interrupted. “Why the hell did she do that?”

  “Apparently St. Joseph’s in Philly made her a better offer.” Bitterness lodged in his throat like a wad of gum. “And she also gave me some bull about not being suited for small-town life.”

  There was a beat of silence. “Did you really just curse? Wow. You must be pissed beyond belief.”

  Derek grabbed the Vernon file and stalked to the door. “Look, I need you to find out more about this St. Joseph’s job. See if you can figure out how much they offered her—if it’s a money thing, I might be able to match it.”

  Tate’s whistle echoed in his ear. “You really want her, huh?”

  Derek stiffened.

  “As a nurse,” Tate added, amusement ringing in his voice. “You must really want her as your nurse.”

  Derek neared the exam room. “I’m about to see a patient. Can you help or not, Tate?”

  “I’m on it. I’ll get back to you.”

  Derek disconnected the call and returned to Mrs. Vernon, spending the next twenty minutes reassuring her that she wasn’t dying of any sort of conceivable disease. By the time he ushered her out of the room, he was ready to tear his hair out. Despite the packed waiting room, he told Nancy to give him a few minutes before sending in the next patient.

  He stalked into his office, shut the door and let out a string of curses that no doubt would’ve stunned everyone in his family speechless.

  Pacing the office, he thought of Amelia’s agitated hazel eyes, the way she’d wrung her hands together and avoided his gaze. Then he remembered the way her entire face had lit up yesterday when he’d offered her a permanent position. How did a person go from happy to distressed in less than twenty-four hours?

  Ask Tess.

  Derek halted midstep. A jolt of pain shot through him as the memory of his wife surfaced, followed by a lump of bitterness that rose in his throat. Yeah, he knew all about irrational behavior, didn’t he? The mood swings, the tears, the desperation. Tess’s illness had destroyed their marriage—no matter how badly he’d wanted to be there for her, he hadn’t been able to help the woman he loved.

  Ignoring the painful throbbing in his chest, Derek took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. Christ. He couldn’t hide out in his office thinking about Tess and Amelia. He had a responsibility to his patients and at the moment, that was all he could afford to concentrate on.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Derek bid goodbye to his last patient of the day, sent Nancy home and marched back to his office. He kept a change of clothes in a small cabinet by the door, and he shrugged out of his jacket as he headed for it. He ditched his scrubs and put on trousers and a cable-knit sweater, then shoved his feet into a pair of leather wing tips.

  His cell phone rang just as he finished dressing. A glance at the caller ID revealed Tate’s number. Finally.

  “What’d you find out?” Derek asked in lieu of a greeting.

  “Come outside and I’ll tell you myself.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “Why are you outside?”

  “Because we’ve got Sawyer’s parent-teacher thing in twenty minutes.” Tate chuckled. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

  Busted.

  Derek couldn’t believe the conference had slipped his mind—he was normally on top of stuff like that. But Amelia’s sudden departure had sent his mind reeling.

 
Damn. He’d been planning on heading straight to her apartment once he’d cleared his schedule, but Tate had thrown a wrench in that plan.

  “I’ll be out in a sec,” he said as he grabbed the wool coat draped over the back of his desk chair.

  Tate was waiting on the sidewalk in front of the clinic when Derek strode outside. After locking up and setting the alarm, Derek turned to his brother with an expectant look. “So? Did you get the information?”

  Tate scrubbed a hand through his light brown hair. “Yeah, I did.”

  “What did St. Joseph’s offer her?”

  “Nothing.”

  Derek frowned. “What do you mean, nothing?”

  “I mean, the human resources department at the hospital has never heard of Amelia Phillips. She never submitted a résumé, and she certainly didn’t receive any job offers from them in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “You’re certain of this?”

  Tate nodded.

  A fresh wave of frustration crashed into him. What the hell? Amelia had lied to him.

  But why?

  And if there was no offer from St. Joseph’s, then what had spurred her to up and quit?

  He shook his head. “I need to see her. Do you mind going to the school on your own?”

  “No way, Doc.” Tate’s voice was firm. “We might all be Sawyer and Piper’s guardians, but you’re the one they look to as a father figure. And you’re the one who stays on top of the school stuff. I need you there, bro.”

  Derek suppressed his annoyance. As much as he loved Tate, Gunnar and Emma, he sometimes felt as if they’d left him holding the bag after their parents died. Gunnar had enlisted in the military and disappeared for more than a decade, and although Tate and Emma had stuck around, they’d been more focused on their careers than their little siblings. And sure, their jobs in law enforcement were demanding, but so was Derek’s practice. Why was he expected to juggle his work with the responsibility of raising two kids?

  He’d never voice the complaint, though. He’d come to accept the reality of his situation—he was Derek, the responsible rock of the Colton family, the healer and protector, the man who always did the right thing, who always put others first. But sometimes he wished his siblings would step up and shoulder some of the burden. A man could bear only so much weight before he broke.

  Sighing, he fished his car keys from his coat pocket. “We’ll take separate cars. I want to head over to Amelia’s the second the meeting ends.”

  Ten minutes later, he and Tate reconvened in the parking lot of Eden Falls Middle School. They entered the school through the back doors, their shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor as they made their way toward Sawyer’s homeroom.

  “So you’re really riled up about Amelia,” Tate remarked.

  “She’s a good nurse,” he replied in a terse voice.

  His brother’s answering silence lasted far too long for his liking. “What?” Derek said defensively. “Say what’s on your mind, Tate.”

  Tate lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant pose. “Seems to me you’re into more than her nursing abilities. You invited her to dinner—”

  “Sawyer invited her,” he cut in.

  “And the private ranch tour? That was all you, Doc. You wanted to be alone with her.”

  He found himself unusually flustered. “That woman is damn secretive. I just wanted to get some answers.”

  As they approached Sawyer’s classroom, Tate grabbed

  Derek’s arm and forced him to stop. “It’s okay to admit you like her,” Tate said in quiet voice. “Tess has been gone for two years. It’s about time you started to show interest in a woman.”

  Discomfort wrapped around his spine like strands of ivy. Tate was wrong. He didn’t like Amelia, not in a romantic way, at least. He respected her. Appreciated her skills. Enjoyed her company.

  Lusted over her gorgeous face and curvy body….

  Shock spiraled through him. Holy crap. He did like her.

  He shifted his gaze and noticed the barely restrained grin on his brother’s face. “Just figuring it out now, huh?”

  Derek promptly averted his eyes and took off in a brisk walk again. They reached Sawyer’s classroom, but when he poked his head into the room, he saw that Sharon Bentley, Sawyer’s teacher, hadn’t wrapped up her current conference. She held up one hand to signal she’d be another five minutes.

  Derek nodded in response, then stepped back into the hall and gestured to the wooden bench lining the wall. He and Tate sat, their big bodies awkwardly positioned on the kid-size bench. Both stood at six feet, and the bench was so low to the ground it was as if they were sitting on the floor.

  “Anyway, about this Amelia thing,” Tate continued.

  “I can’t talk about that right now. I…I can’t.” He let out a breath. “Tell me what’s happening with the investigation.”

  Tate’s expression hardened. “The sting operation is going down next week.”

  “So your informant came through?”

  “Yeah, Miller’s giving us the locations where the girls are being held. My supervisor has me posing as a buyer—I’m a rich New York businessman looking to buy myself a sex slave.” A combination of revulsion and rage dripped from Tate’s tone.

  Derek felt pretty sick himself, and he was totally feeling his brother’s rage, too. It horrified him to think that innocent girls were being sold off in a sex ring as if they were cattle. Both Tate and Emma were working overtime to crack this online ring wide open, and the coordinated efforts of the FBI and the Pennsylvania and Ohio PDs were finally paying off, especially now that Solomon Miller, a minor player in the ring, was working as an informant to help law enforcement nab the ringleaders.

  “Gunnar’s underwriting the op,” Tate added, “so that’ll make it easier to play the part of Richie Rich without costing the taxpayers a dime.”

  “What exactly does this sting op entail?” Derek asked.

  “I’m going to inspect the wares,” Tate said in distaste. “As a buyer, I have the option to take a closer look at the girls before I commit to purchasing one.”

  Bile coated Derek’s throat. “What happens if one of those girls is Hannah Troyer? Or Mary Yoder? Will your team swoop in and rescue them?”

  To his shock, Tate shook his head. “Not during that first meeting.”

  “Jesus, Tate, why the hell not? You’re just going to leave those girls at the hands of those sadistic bastards?”

  “Our goal is to nail these sons of bitches to the wall,” Tate said grimly. “Which means bringing down the ringleader and wiping out the entire ring. If we tip our hand now, the bastard will just close up shop or move the operation to some other state. We will rescue those girls, but not until the time is right.”

  “Dr. Colton? Detective Colton?”

  Ms. Bentley’s voice put an end to the conversation. Both men stood up as their brother’s teacher appeared in front of them. “You can come in now,” she said with a smile.

  Before Derek could take a step, his phone went off. With an apologetic look, he fished out the phone. Although he was done for the day, he remained on call in the evenings.

  “Give me a second,” he said, gesturing for Tate to go with Sawyer’s teacher.

  Derek glanced at the caller ID and frowned when he saw the unknown number. He hoped this wasn’t about Clara Watson—the woman had been having some complications with her latest pregnancy, and he’d already made three house calls to her in the past month, each time expecting the worst. He’d ordered her on bed rest, but he knew damn well that patients didn’t always follow their doctor’s orders.

  “Dr. Colton,” he barked as he flipped open the cell phone.

  “Derek!”

  His shoulders stiffened when Amelia’s anguished voice sliced through the line.r />
  “Amelia?” he said warily. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, God, I…I… Can you come over?”

  The terror in her tone was unmistakable and Derek’s entire body went cold. “Are you okay?” he demanded. “Are you hurt?”

  “Yes…no…please. Please, I need you.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  He hung up without another word, sprinted into the classroom and sought his brother’s gaze. “I have to go,” Derek said flatly.

  Tate took one look at his face and paled. “Is it Sawyer? Piper?” He started to get up.

  “They’re fine,” Derek said quickly. “It’s a patient.” He glanced at Ms. Bentley. “I apologize, Sharon, but I’m afraid you’ll have to hold this conference without me.”

  Without letting either of them reply, Derek dashed out of the room. His heartbeat hammered out a frantic rhythm as he raced out of the school and hurried toward his car. He’d never heard Amelia sound like that. Panicked, shrill, frightened. His mind suddenly flashed to Tess, to the agitated voice mail she’d left him before she’d driven her car off that bridge.

  His heart pounded even harder.

  As he started the car and sped out of the parking lot, he prayed that Amelia was okay.

  And that this time he wouldn’t be too late.

  CHAPTER 4

  The first thing Derek saw when he approached apartment 203 was the smashed doorknob. Black marks marred the white paint of Amelia’s door as if it had been scraped by something—a crowbar, perhaps—and wood splinters littered the weathered hardwood floor.

  His entire body tensed, a jolt of adrenaline shuddering through him. “Amelia,” he called as he burst through the door and entered the small apartment.

  “In here.”

  He followed her muffled voice to the living room and found her huddled on the couch, her slender arms wrapped tightly around her knees. When she lifted her head, the tears gathering on her long lashes triggered a protective impulse. Dashing across the room, Derek yanked her to her feet and drew her into his arms. The sweet scent of honey and woman flooded his nostrils. Her blond hair tickled his chin as she buried her head in the crook of his neck, her tears staining his skin.