Page 85 of Anchor
Killian’s nod was curt. “Nobody moves without a scrub. No exceptions.”
Ian’s eyes stayed on the drive. “No broadcasts. No uplinks. Everything by mouth until we have a name.”
The silence thickened, almost physical. This wasn’t a hunt for a ghost anymore. It was a hunt for a person. And that person was running out of places to hide.
Reid didn’t look away from the screen.Whoever you are,you’ve been watching long enough.Now we are watching back.
TWENTY-NINE
CHASE EXECUTIVE SUITE – SECOND BEDROOM / MEDICAL BAY – 1204 HOURS
Claire sat on the exam bed, the blanket gathered in her lap. The makeshift clinic built into the second bedroom was softly lit and quiet, sterile without feeling cold. Tuck moved with that same calm he always carried, the faint Texas lilt in his voice the only sound above the soft whir of equipment.
“Let’s take a look at that incision first,” he said. “Shouldn’t hurt, but tell me if it does.”
Claire untied the loose belt of her robe and carefully eased back as Tuck gently lifted the hem of her shirt. Her abdomen still bore the yellowed bruise to her left hip, but the incision was clean, a neat, curved scar along her right side.
Tuck leaned in, eyes scanning the site. “No signs of infection. Color’s good. Suture line is perfect. No signs of adhesions. Healing’s right on track.” He touched near the scar with the back of two fingers. She barely flinched. “Any pain?”
“Not sharp,” she said. “Mostly sore when I move.”
He nodded. “That’s normal for where it hit. That bullet tore through muscle and missed taking your liver by less than a centimeter.” His voice softened. “You’re a lucky girl.”
Claire gave a weak smile. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
Just then, Nurse Elena Reynolds stepped in, clipboard in hand, her presence calm, professional. Tuck nodded at her.
“Elena’s here as my chaperone. You wanted a refill on your pills.” He stepped back to wash his hands. “Any pelvic exam, Chase protocol says no solo providers. Especially not family.”
Claire smiled faintly. “You wrote that one, didn’t you?”
“Damn right I did.” Tuck pulled on fresh gloves. “People deserve safety, even from doctors.”
She relaxed just a little. Enough to lie back again as Nurse Reynolds moved to her side.
“I’m going to position the blanket to keep you covered.” Tuck folded a second sheet over her thighs, then he flipped a bedpan upside down beneath a pad, gently elevating her hips. “This helps me get a good view without pushing too hard on your belly.”
She flushed warm but didn’t protest. He was methodical. Kind. Careful.
“Claire,” he said after a pause, his voice calm, “how long have you and Reid been…?”
She swallowed. “Since the gala. Eight weeks ago.”
He gave a thoughtful nod, then gently inserted the speculum. “Last pap smear?” He took some swabs with what looked like cotton balls on a stick and a plastic comb.
“About six months ago. I go around my birthday, so I don’t forget. I have horrible, heavy periods. My…” She stopped herself. “Heather didn’t want me to complain.” She sighed and looked at him. “Tuck, is something wrong?”
He withdrew the speculum and met her gaze. “I’m seeing some vascular changes. Could be nothing. Could also be early pregnancy.”
Her heart stuttered. “Wait… what? I was on the pill.”
“I’m not saying you are,” he said carefully. “But I was planning to run a full panel. I’ll add a pregnancy test. Just to be sure.”
Claire pushed herself upright. “Please don’t tell Reid. Not yet. Not until we’re sure.”
Tuck nodded, peeling off his gloves. “I’m your provider, Claire. That means it’s your call who knows what and when. My lips are sealed.” He nodded to Nurse Reynolds, who gently collected the blood vials and cultures and placed them in a bag. “Hand deliver. Privacy level 5.
“And, Claire, no birth control refill,” Tuck said, turning back. “Not until I’ve got results and a clean pap. If you’re active, use protection in the meantime.”
