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Authors: Lorenz Font
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her blood. Although the surgery had been crude and performed under less than optimal circumstances, his test results showed no permanent damage in the affected area.
Greg’s heart and fists clenched at the same time. Even though the doctors didn’t understand the allergic reactions from the blood transfusion, there had to be medication to alleviate the nausea spells and the poor balance he’d been suffering from ever since. For heaven’s sake, this was the twenty-first century. There had to be a corresponding treatment for every disease imaginable, and yet the doctors couldn’t even come up with a name for his affliction. They just called them “side-effects.”
He stared straight ahead and hoped no small talk would be necessary for the rest of the day. A wide range of concerns needed his attention, from work to his parents. And of course, there was Cade . . .
Now that was his top priority—as well as dealing with her . . .
Once Simon had taken the passenger seat next to him, the limousine purred and joined the city’s morning rush hour. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw Simon regarding him with mild curiosity. As the head of the company’s security, he had been one of the few people who knew the truth about what had gone down in Alaska. Simon had volunteered to act as Greg’s bodyguard until he was back and up on his feet.
A reliable and loyal employee, Simon could always be counted on. In his late forties, Simon was as physically fit as a twenty-year-old, sporting a muscular physique underneath his everyday uniform of a leather jacket and denim pants. Since Greg stayed cooped up in his penthouse most of the time, this arrangement also gave his security man the much-needed vacation he deserved. As long as Simon understood his boss’s need for privacy and quiet, they’d get along fine.
Greg had decided to keep everything on the down low for now, until Cade was found and apprehended. Until then, he’d continue to have his soon-to-be ex-wife followed. The more dirt the PI dug up on Cassandra, the better Greg’s case against her would be.
Smirking, he settled on the plush leather seat. With his eyes closed, he focused his attention on the mark his mysterious savior had left on him—the heady scent of cedar and mint had been engrained in his brain.
After yet another disappointing meeting with Dr. Kemp, Greg walked out of the clinic still without a firm grasp on what was causing his frequent spasms and dizziness. His hemoglobin level had been tested several times and checked out okay. The doctor’s latest absurd suggestion was to hire a personal caregiver to help him with basic chores. In short, Dr. Kemp wanted him to get a babysitter.
Just because Greg had money didn’t mean he spent it irresponsibly. His doctor had come up with a list of recommended nurses who were available at the drop of a hat, but Greg had snorted at the idea and stormed back to the waiting car, ready to explode.
“Nothing again?” Simon pushed the button for the glass divider. The partition came up, ensuring their conversation would be private.
“No.” Although he’d intended to say nothing more, Greg ended up blurting out the doctor’s ludicrous idea. “Dr. Kemp wants me to get a nurse. A caregiver who can help me out while I regain my strength and remind me to take my medicine, like I’m a child.”
Simon chuckled, as usual. He might have been a man of few words, but he was certainly not one to miss the humor in any given situation. “Did you tell him to go to hell?”
“Yes.”
The ringing of his cell phone prevented him from replying further. Greg pulled his Blackberry from his trouser pocket and checked the caller ID, recognizing the number of a private investigation firm. “Trevor, I’ve been waiting for your call.”
Greg listened to the head of the firm speak for several minutes.
“Are you sure that’s what happened?”
Again, information came in a rapid-fire flood that included
Greg’s heart and fists clenched at the same time. Even though the doctors didn’t understand the allergic reactions from the blood transfusion, there had to be medication to alleviate the nausea spells and the poor balance he’d been suffering from ever since. For heaven’s sake, this was the twenty-first century. There had to be a corresponding treatment for every disease imaginable, and yet the doctors couldn’t even come up with a name for his affliction. They just called them “side-effects.”
He stared straight ahead and hoped no small talk would be necessary for the rest of the day. A wide range of concerns needed his attention, from work to his parents. And of course, there was Cade . . .
Now that was his top priority—as well as dealing with her . . .
Once Simon had taken the passenger seat next to him, the limousine purred and joined the city’s morning rush hour. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw Simon regarding him with mild curiosity. As the head of the company’s security, he had been one of the few people who knew the truth about what had gone down in Alaska. Simon had volunteered to act as Greg’s bodyguard until he was back and up on his feet.
A reliable and loyal employee, Simon could always be counted on. In his late forties, Simon was as physically fit as a twenty-year-old, sporting a muscular physique underneath his everyday uniform of a leather jacket and denim pants. Since Greg stayed cooped up in his penthouse most of the time, this arrangement also gave his security man the much-needed vacation he deserved. As long as Simon understood his boss’s need for privacy and quiet, they’d get along fine.
Greg had decided to keep everything on the down low for now, until Cade was found and apprehended. Until then, he’d continue to have his soon-to-be ex-wife followed. The more dirt the PI dug up on Cassandra, the better Greg’s case against her would be.
Smirking, he settled on the plush leather seat. With his eyes closed, he focused his attention on the mark his mysterious savior had left on him—the heady scent of cedar and mint had been engrained in his brain.
After yet another disappointing meeting with Dr. Kemp, Greg walked out of the clinic still without a firm grasp on what was causing his frequent spasms and dizziness. His hemoglobin level had been tested several times and checked out okay. The doctor’s latest absurd suggestion was to hire a personal caregiver to help him with basic chores. In short, Dr. Kemp wanted him to get a babysitter.
Just because Greg had money didn’t mean he spent it irresponsibly. His doctor had come up with a list of recommended nurses who were available at the drop of a hat, but Greg had snorted at the idea and stormed back to the waiting car, ready to explode.
“Nothing again?” Simon pushed the button for the glass divider. The partition came up, ensuring their conversation would be private.
“No.” Although he’d intended to say nothing more, Greg ended up blurting out the doctor’s ludicrous idea. “Dr. Kemp wants me to get a nurse. A caregiver who can help me out while I regain my strength and remind me to take my medicine, like I’m a child.”
Simon chuckled, as usual. He might have been a man of few words, but he was certainly not one to miss the humor in any given situation. “Did you tell him to go to hell?”
“Yes.”
The ringing of his cell phone prevented him from replying further. Greg pulled his Blackberry from his trouser pocket and checked the caller ID, recognizing the number of a private investigation firm. “Trevor, I’ve been waiting for your call.”
Greg listened to the head of the firm speak for several minutes.
“Are you sure that’s what happened?”
Again, information came in a rapid-fire flood that included
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