Page 18 of His Deadly Lies

No matter where you are.

The scrubs are a little tight across the chest and loose around my hips, but they’ll work for a short term. The simple blue color will allow me to blend in with the rest of the staff, even though I’m probably older than a lot of them. The premature gray at forty-two works to my advantage. People tend to overlook the old man when I want them to.

Once out in the hall, I head toward the bank of elevators at the end of the hallway and take it up to the second floor. Away from the overly helpful receptionist.

“Hi, excuse me,” I say to the first person I bump into in the hallway. “I can’t find where they moved one of my patients.” I shoot the young man a lopsided grin. “Do you think you can help me out?”

“Ah, sure.” The harried orderly glances down at his watch like even the two seconds of conversation will cost him. “Who are you looking for?”

“Miss Mia Balestra, please.”

Something about the name perks him up.

“I’m sorry.” He narrows his eyes. “Who did you say you were?”

I give him a fake name. “They brought me in because dealing with her and the family is…delicate. I understand. Edward hired me to make sure she’s well in hand.” I keep my tone light and easy rather than pushy.

Families like mine, like the Balestras, do not take safety lightly. But names are calling cards as well.

“I’m not sure—”

“The family is going to murder me if I’m not there to check on Miss Mia,” I interrupt. “Please.”

Security sucks, and sex sells. Two important aspects of this life to always keep in mind.

It takes a little bit of convincing, but eventually, the man leads me to Mia’s room. VIP patient indeed. The orderly leaves me at the door, and just to the side is a cart with gowns and surgical masks. To keep her from recognizing my face, I draw one of the masks over the lower half of my face, followed by a cap for my hair. The gown follows shortly after, also too large, but fuck, it’s the best I can do.

There are two goons waiting inside of the door, and both of them stand straighter at my arrival, guns on display.

Talk about showing your hand.

It’s a ridiculous display of authority and one I’m careful to ignore under my current guise. I bob my head in greeting before slipping past them. I straighten once I’m inside, and the woman wrapped in sterile white sheets eyes me like a hawk with prey the moment I meet her eyes.

Her pretty face is twisted in a pout.

“And who the fuck are you?”

The first words out of her mouth fall between us poisonously, a hint of condemnation.

“I don’t recognize you,” she continues.

I’m not sure what she expects to hear, so saying nothing is smarter. She doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong. At least, not to my eyes. Slightly confused because of her outward appearance, I grab her chart from the plastic container by the door and scan the information typed there.

Basic info at first, her height and weight and shit like that.

Mia finally tires of staring me down and busies herself by turning her nose up at me, her face toward the window. The sunlight casts shadows across the angular set of her chin and jaw, the sharp cheekbones, and the almond-shaped eyes. Pretty, in the sort of ancient Mediterranean goddess way. But way too fucking skinny.

Not my type.

Not to mention there is nothing going on in her head but pure pissiness.

“Can I go now?” she finally asks. “I’d like to go home. This is completely unnecessary.”

Shit, there’s nothing wrong with her. She’s been kept for observation because of a bruise on her knee and hip where she landed.

Why are they keeping her here?

“Are you sure you want to talk to me with Mutt and Jeff here?” I force my voice up an octave rather than my normal grating baritone. “Seems to me they want to eavesdrop.”

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