Once again, Nick came to the rescue as he wrapped his arms around her.

She inhaled his comforting scent, not expensive cologne, but pure, potent masculinity. The smell made her feel safe and protected…and incredibly aroused.

She wanted to go home with him. She’d wanted to know what it felt like for this man to take control of her body the way he’d taken control of her mind and actions for the past five hours. She’d done things that would have been unthinkable for her only hours ago. Would Nick have the same effect on her in bed?

I’m sorry.” He stroked her hair. “You’re not safe here.”

But how safe would she be with him…in his home, in his bed?

A
Doctor-Nurse Encounter
Carol Ericson

For my sister, Janice.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Carol Ericson lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds, and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her Web site at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Contents

Cast of Characters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Lacey Kirk—This nurse runs a doctor’s office with smooth efficiency, but her world is turned upside down when that doctor is murdered. Now she must depend on the secretive Dr. Marino for protection even as she risks her heart.

Dr. Nick Marino—He keeps secrets to shield his family from danger. His encounter with Lacey, a feisty nurse who demands answers, strips away his protective layers. Will Lacey still want the man she discovers beneath?

Dr. Joseph Buonfoglio—The grumpy doctor has secrets of his own, and his murder reveals them one by one, putting his employees in danger.

T.J. Paglietti—A small-time hood on the run from the mob. If the De Luca family discovers his identity before he can testify against one of their own, his life is over.

Frankie De Luca—He yearns for respect from his father and revenge for his brother—and he’s willing to kill to achieve his goals.

Petra Sorenson—She has a crush on her boss, Dr. Marino, and an insatiable need to prove she can find other men as substitutes. But her latest “substitute” has an ulterior motive.

Abby Buonfoglio—Dr. Buonfoglio’s gentle daughter has Down syndrome. Does she also hold the key to her father’s murder?

Chapter One

A person could die of asphyxiation down here. Lacey Kirk held her breath against the noxious wave of exhaust fumes that greeted her as she stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage.

The heels of her boots clipped on the cement, creating a lonely echo in the empty lot. Most of the doctors, including her boss, parked on the lower level. At this hour, the cars in the upper levels cleared out quickly, leaving gaping parking stalls in their wake.

She scooped her keys out of her purse, dropping them onto the garage floor, where they skidded underneath her Jetta. She uttered a curse.

“Hope that battery doesn’t pop out of the remote again,” she commented to no one in particular.

She crouched down and pinched her small desk key between her fingers, dragging the key chain toward her. Damn. She forgot to lock her desk after she pulled out the appointment book to check Dr. B’s appointments for tomorrow.

She stood up, sawing her bottom lip with her teeth. Normally, she wouldn’t worry about it, but she’d left the front door of the office unlocked for the deli delivery guy. She’d ordered Dr. B a sandwich before leaving for the night. Someone had to take care of the man.

Sighing, she dropped the keys back in her purse and trudged back toward the elevator. At least this would give her a chance to make sure Dr. B got his food.

As she rushed off the elevator, she almost collided with a man carrying an armful of file folders while fiddling with his BlackBerry and holding a cell phone. A few files slipped off the top of the stack and fell to the polished floor.

“Watch where you’re going.” Dr. Nick Marino’s black brows collided over his aquiline nose, and two spots of color stained his broad cheekbones before he stooped to pick up the files.

“You’re the one juggling electronic devices. Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” She dug a fist in her hip and tapped the toe of her pointed boot as the doctor straightened up, clutching the folders in his hand.

He dropped his BlackBerry into the pocket of his white coat, which flapped open, revealing his tailored shirt molded to his chest. Pec implants? His full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. Did men get collagen treatments?

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” He patted his pocket. “Multitasking.”

She rolled her eyes and pivoted toward the corner.

“Lacey, right? You work for Dr. Joseph Buonfoglio.”

“Yeah, Lacey.” She glanced over her shoulder. He knew her name? She didn’t think she was worthy of Dr. Perfect’s notice.

“I’ve seen you over at San Francisco General. You’re in the hospice/palliative nursing program, aren’t you?”

She spun around. She’d seen him at SF General, too. Pretty hard to miss a six-foot-two Adonis with groupies trailing him around the hospital. “That’s right. I’m in the hospice program. What does an internationally acclaimed cosmetic surgeon, darling of the rich and famous medical-convention rock star know about a hospice?”

He raised an eyebrow just as she stumbled around the corner.

She covered her face with her hands. Smart move, Lacey. The hunky Dr. Marino may be arrogant, but he also had connections. She giggled. Even getting kicked out of the hospice program was worth the look on his face. Well, almost.

Stepping up to the office door, she grabbed the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. She jiggled it. Had Dr. B locked the door after the food arrived? That didn’t seem likely.

She slipped her key into the lock and pushed open the door. Rustling noises echoed in the office, and the door that separated the rooms in the back from the reception area stood open. Dr. B must be eating his sandwich.

She sniffed the air. Cappicola didn’t have that heavy, metallic smell. It reminded her of the smell in the hospital…the hospital emergency room. Her heart banged against her rib cage as she crept toward the gaping door.

Placing a hand against the wall, she inched forward. She peered into Dr. B’s office and clutched the doorjamb to steady the spinning room.

Dr. B lay crumpled on the floor in front of his desk, a pool of blood soaking into the carpet under his head. The scream that barreled up from her lungs snagged in her throat, and she choked.

A large figure with a black ski mask and black gloves stepped into the hallway from the supply room. His eyes glittered through the holes in the mask, and Lacey stumbled back, banging her elbow against the wall.

The shooting pain released the tightness in her chest and she screamed as she scrambled toward the reception area and the door she’d left open. She felt the man’s body heat behind her before he yanked her hair, pulling her backward. He twisted her hair, jerking her head against his body, his garlic-scented breath bathing her cheek.

She stomped on his foot with her high heel. He grunted but tightened his grip, circling her throat with his other arm.

Rather than immobilizing her, the terror raging through her body spurred her to action. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and dangled from her arm. She shook it down farther, gathered the strap in her hand and swung back, but the blow barely grazed her captor’s hip.

She jabbed her throbbing elbow into his rib cage and had the satisfaction of hearing his muffled curse. The vise pinioning her neck loosened, and she gathered her breath and let loose with another scream that tore through her ragged throat.

“What the hell?” Dr. Marino charged through the office door, and Lacey took advantage of her assailant’s surprise as his hold on her slackened.

She wrenched out of his grasp, tumbling forward onto her hands and knees. She looked back in time to see Nick plant his fist against the man’s face. As the intruder staggered back, Nick reached forward and twisted the ski mask so that the eyeholes were no longer positioned over the man’s eyes. The man raised his gloved hands to correct his mask, desperate to keep it on, and Nick punched him in the gut.

The man grunted but kicked Nick’s midsection, sending him reeling backward and crashing into a table. Magazines scattered and a heavy lamp tipped over, the lampshade bouncing across the carpet.

“Look out. He might have a weapon.” Lacey crawled to the door and dumped out her purse, scrambling for her cell phone.

The masked man advanced on Nick, still bent over the table. Nick grabbed the base of the lamp, spun around and brought it down toward the man’s head. The blow glanced off the side of the intruder’s skull as he brought his arm up to knock the lamp back.

Lacey gripped the phone in her stiff fingers and punched in 911 just as Nick and the intruder fell to the floor next to her. Lacey flattened her body against the floor. Amazingly, the man’s ski mask still covered his face.

The 911 operator answered the phone, and Lacey shouted, “Please come right away. Someone’s been hurt. The man’s still here.” Then she gave the operator the address and disconnected.

“Who ordered the—” The deli delivery guy, a skinny teenager, gaped in the doorway, his eyes bulging out of his head as he dropped the food.

Nick paused at the intrusion, and the man reached for the heavy doorstop under the table and swung it at Nick’s head.

“Nick!” Lacey screamed and dropped the phone. The doorstop skimmed the side of Nick’s head instead of flattening his face as he jerked out of the way.

Nick collapsed, and the man with the ski mask jumped up and shoved the delivery guy out of his way. His foot smashed the bag of food on the floor as he sprinted down the hallway.

“Go after him.” Lacey dragged herself up and waved her arms at the teenager frozen against the doorjamb.

“Are you crazy?” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple resembling a golf ball. “That guy’s huge.”

Nick moaned, and Lacey hobbled over on her knees and inspected the gash on the side of his head. She shrugged out of her sweater and yanked her cotton T-shirt over her head. The delivery guy’s eyes got bigger and rounder. She folded the T-shirt into a square and pressed it against Nick’s wound, staunching the flow of blood.

She glanced over her shoulder at the speechless teenager. “Hold this bandage on his head. I have to check on my boss in the back.”

“Th-there’s someone else here?”

“Yeah, but he’s…unconscious.” Tilting her chin toward the door, she said, “Keep an eye out for the emergency response team.”

Dr. B was more than unconscious. She didn’t want to go back to his office. Judging from the amount of blood on the carpet, she doubted he could use her help now.

She returned to his office, anyway, and tiptoed toward his still form, as if afraid she’d wake him. She pressed a fist to her mouth as her gaze hitched on the gun in Dr. B’s slack hand. When did he get a gun? Didn’t do him much good today.

She could see now that the intruder, the murderer, had smashed in one side of Dr. B’s skull. A marble bookend, smeared with blood and hair, lay next to Dr. B’s body. Pressing her fingertips against his neck, she felt for a pulse. No sign of life.

What if she had stayed? Would Dr. B be alive? Would she be dead?

She brushed a tear from her cheek and tripped back to the disordered reception area.

The teen looked up. “How’s your boss?”

She shook her head and shooed him away. Leaning over Nick’s body, she kept the pressure on the makeshift bandage. She inhaled the incongruous aroma of spicy cologne and antiseptic wash.

His spiky, dark lashes stirred, and she murmured, “Dr. Perfect doesn’t look so perfect now.”

NICK’S BODY ACHED ALL OVER, especially on the left side of his head, right above his ear where a lead weight pressed against his skull.

He opened one eye. A pair of shapely breasts molded by a white, lacy bra hovered above him. Had to be natural. He opened the other eye. A lock of silky, dark hair tickled his chest. Had he died and gone to heaven?

He dragged his gaze away from the alluring sight in front of him, where it collided with a pair of stormy green eyes. He’d seen those eyes shooting angry sparks earlier, before all the chaos.

Lacey. Lacey from Dr. Buonfoglio’s office. Lacey, the aspiring hospice nurse. Lacey, the master of torture.

He shifted and wrapped his fingers around her deceptively delicate wrist. “I think that’s enough pressure. I’m in danger of losing oxygen to my brain.”

She sucked in a breath as he heard someone yell, “Over here.”

Nick lifted his head. Two uniformed cops crowded the doorway while an EMT lurked behind them.

Lacey took Nick’s hand and held it against the cloth on his head. Had she used her shirt as a bandage? Maybe he could convince her to use her bra as a tourniquet.

“You have to go after him.” Grabbing her sweater from the floor, she jumped up and faced the older officer. “The man who attacked us took off down the stairwell.”

The EMTs surged through the door and plucked Lacey’s shirt from Nick’s head. He tried to sit up, but they wouldn’t allow it. Damned cocky EMTs. He preferred the topless nurse.

“Who are we looking for?” The cop pulled a notepad from his pocket and flipped it open.

“A tall man.” Lacey stuffed her arms into her sweater and buttoned it up the front before holding her hand well above her own head. “Stocky build, dressed in black with a black ski mask over his face and gloves. I doubt if he left any fingerprints in here.”

“A ski mask?” The cop tapped a pencil against his notebook. “Shackleford, check it out.”

When Shackleford took off down the hallway, the other officer asked, “What happened? What’d he want?”

“I came up here from Antonio’s Deli to deliver a sandwich, and this guy and another guy were rolling around the floor fighting.” The pimply kid with an Antonio’s Deli cap askew on his head waved his arms around. “Then he pushed past me and stepped on the sandwich.”

“Officer—” she leaned forward to peer at the cop’s badge “—Bates, the man killed my boss, Dr. Buonfoglio. He’s in the back.”

Jesus. Nick’s gut constricted. He didn’t even know Dr. Buonfoglio was in the office. The fight with the masked man just took on a more sinister aspect…and a more deadly one.

At Lacey’s words, the paramedics working on Nick abandoned him and rushed to the back while Officer Bates radioed for homicide detectives. Nick took the opportunity to stagger to his feet and immediately dropped to the chair. He’d lost more blood than he’d thought.

“Okay, let’s take this from the top.” The cop’s gaze darted between Nick and Lacey, settling on Lacey. “Who are you, and what’s your name?”

“My name is Lacey Kirk, and I’m Dr. Buonfoglio’s office manager.” She smoothed her auburn hair back from her face, leaving a smudge of blood on her cheek. His or Dr. Buonfoglio’s?

As she told Officer Bates about the events leading up to the fight, her voice remained steady and calm, but her hands trembled until she clasped them in front of her.

Nick eased himself out of the chair. “You need to sit down, Lacey. Is there any water in here?”

“Don’t touch anything in the office, Doc. Homicide’s on their way and they’ll want a pristine murder site.”

Lacey’s pale face blanched further, and she swayed forward.

Nick took her arm and led her to the chair next to the one he just left. “Can I run back to my office to get her some water and a sedative?”

The officer held up his hand. “What’s your involvement? Were you in the office, too?”

“No. My office is down the hall. I was on my way back to my office after dropping off some files in the lobby. I heard Lacey screaming and ran in here.”

After Nick answered a few more questions, he jogged down the hallway to his office.

When he returned with a cup of water and a couple of sample packets of Xanax, the cop who took off after the masked intruder had returned, and the two paramedics huddled in the corner of the room ready to pounce on him.

“Is Dr. Buonfoglio dead?” He handed Lacey the paper cup and the packets. Her fingers brushed his as she accepted the water, and his nerve endings tingled in response. His adrenaline must still be pumping after that fight.

One of the paramedics nodded. “Yeah, blow to the head. He lost a lot of blood, and so did you. We need to finish with your vitals.”

“I’m all right.” He traced a fingertip along the angry red mark across the soft creamy skin of Lacey’s neck. “You should have a look at her. The guy had his arm locked around her throat when I came in.”

“I’ll check her out, and my partner can have a look at you.” The paramedic shrugged. “The guy in the back doesn’t need us. He’s ready for the coroner.”

“Do you have to be so cold? That’s my boss back there.” Lacey sniffled and pressed her hands to her cheeks.

“What are they teaching you guys in school about appropriate bedside manner these days?” Nick ran a hand down Lacey’s arm and cupped her elbow. After months of watching her whiz back and forth along the hallway and spotting her occasionally at the hospital, now that he was this close to her he had a strong urge to touch her.

She glanced up at him through wet lashes and flashed him a look of gratitude. He squeezed her elbow and allowed the paramedic to check his blood pressure.

Soon after, the office buzzed with enough cops, detectives and crime-scene personnel to populate six of those CSI shows, and more filled the hallway.

Lacey, sitting on the chair beside him, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Her lashes lay like velvet crescents on her cheeks, and her brown hair with the reddish tint created a silky fan on the cushion. In fact, everything about her had the appearance of softness, until she opened her mouth. Were her sharp comments and sharper looks at the hospital due to his reputation as a player?

That reputation attracted a certain type of woman. The type of woman he always cultivated. The type of woman that represented safety.

Lacey’s eyes flew open. “How’s your head? I think you lost consciousness. You might have a concussion. You should get it checked out.”

“Okay Dr. Lacey.”

“Are you one of those doctors who can’t take medical advice from others, especially nurses?” She crossed her arms and scowled.

“I have the utmost respect for nurses.” He put his hands up to ward off the quills. Did he have to watch everything he said around her? “Couldn’t live without them.”

She snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I heard.”

Ouch. One of those quills hit pay dirt. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

Why defend himself? He should be pushing this one away with both hands. Those bright green eyes of hers didn’t miss a thing.

Detective Harley Chu, the lead detective on the scene, sat on the edge of the table across from their chairs. “Did the man have a gun?”

“If he did, I didn’t see it.” Nick shot a look at Lacey. “I thought Dr. Buonfoglio died from blunt trauma to the head.”

“He did, but on the other side of his head, there’s a mark that looks like the butt of a gun, and Dr. Buonfoglio had his gun in his hand when he went down.”

So the good doctor had a gun. That didn’t surprise Nick. “I didn’t hear any gunfire. Did Dr. Buonfoglio shoot his weapon?”

“No, he never released the safety. Looks like the intruder hit the doctor with the butt of a gun, stunning him. Then he grabbed the bookend and went in for the kill. He probably didn’t use his gun on you or Ms. Kirk because of the noise.”

Lacey sat up straight and shook her head. “He could’ve shot us.”

Nick studied his nails. “So what was he after?”

“Appears to be a case of theft. He smashed the drug cabinet in the supply room, and it looks like there are drugs missing.” Detective Chu tapped his chin with his pencil. He looked over at Lacey. “Do you have an inventory of drugs?”

Nick exhaled. A simple case of theft. God, he was happy to hear those words. Much better than the alternative.

“I do keep a drug inventory on my computer, but the man didn’t have a bag or anything, did he, Nick?”

At least the upheaval of the afternoon had prompted her to call him Nick instead of…Dr. Perfect. He drew in a quick breath. She’d called him Dr. Perfect when she was tending to his wound. Smart-ass.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t notice anything, but you know how small the sample packs can be. He could’ve shoved several of them in his pockets, and he was wearing a big jacket, big enough to conceal anything.”

“If he came here to steal, why’d he kill Dr. B?” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, a furrow creasing her brow.

“He probably thought the office was empty. Maybe he watched you leave and tried the door, and then Dr. Buonfoglio pulled a gun on him.” Detective Chu shook his head. “He could’ve been high already.”

“Just seems like a calculated theft with the ski mask and the gloves. And if he was high, it was PCP, because the guy had incredible strength.” She niggled her lower lip, obviously not satisfied with the detective’s first stab at a motive.

Nick wanted to believe Detective Chu. He had to believe him. It couldn’t be what he’d feared for the past three years.

When the coroner arrived, Detective Chu told Lacey she could leave. “You can come back in tomorrow, Ms. Kirk, and check your inventory against what’s left in the drug cabinet. You’ll probably want to contact Dr. Buonfoglio’s patients as well. He’s a plastic surgeon, right?”

“Oh, my God.” She smacked her forehead. “Dr. B has a surgery tomorrow.”

“You can refer the patient to me. In fact, you can refer all of his patients to me for now.” Nick stood up and massaged his left shoulder. He’d convinced the paramedics he didn’t need to go to the hospital, but he could use some painkillers and a good night’s sleep.

“I didn’t realize you needed the work.” Lacey skewered him with a sideways glance.

He must’ve done her wrong in a past life or something. Should he even bother to remedy her low opinion of him? He shrugged. “Just trying to help out.”

“Thanks.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “But this particular patient tomorrow is top secret.”

“Huh?” Her words punched him in the gut. Dr. Buonfoglio had top-secret patients? Seems the good doctor still played with fire…probably why he had a gun.

“You know, celebrities, politicians. You don’t have the corner on that market yet, Dr. Per…Marino.”

He raised his eyebrows, but her words untied the knot in his belly. That explained the “secret patients.” All cosmetic surgeons had them. “It’s Marino, not Per-Marino.”

A pink tide ebbed into her cheeks as she covered her mouth with her hand. “I know that.”

Nailed her.

She turned to the detective. “Detective Chu, should I notify Dr. B’s surgical nurses? His bookkeeper works off-site. I should notify her, too.”

“You need to give us those names and addresses, and we’ll notify them. We have to interview them, anyway. Do you want an officer to accompany you to your car?”

“I’ll walk her down.” Nick stepped forward. “Get those names for Detective Chu while I pick up a few things from my office.”

Her eyes widened, but she kept her mouth shut for a change. Seems his take-charge attitude could overwhelm even Lacey Kirk, Nurse Know-It-All. He’d developed that attitude years ago, even before he became a doctor. It was an essential component in keeping things from spinning out of control.

By the time he got back, Lacey was waiting for him, clutching her blood-stained shirt in her hand.

“I’ll replace that for you.”

“This?” She waved it in front of her. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a Target special.”

He draped his suit jacket over his arm and gestured her ahead of him into the hallway.

Her gaze dropped to the Armani jacket, and then meandered up his silk tie and tailored shirt, now ripped and smudged with blood.

“I suppose you didn’t realize Target even had a clothing line, did you?”

Definite porcupine. He grabbed her arm and lied. “Yes, I did know that. Is the SFPD going to lock up Dr. Buonfoglio’s office?”

“Yeah.” She shook him off. “They’re putting one of those lock boxes on the door, like Realtors use. A cop’s going to be waiting for me tomorrow to unlock it when I come in to check things out and notify Dr. B’s patients.”

When they got into the elevator, Lacey leaned her forehead against the wall, her shoulders slumping. “I can’t believe this happened.”

“Dr. Buonfoglio was a good man and a good doctor. He’ll be missed.” He rubbed her back, and although she stiffened beneath his touch, she didn’t pull away.

The elevator landed on the second floor of the parking garage, and the doors rumbled open. Empty stalls yawned before them, and Lacey’s heels resounded through the cavernous lot.

Her small red Jetta stood alone in one row. Lacey took out her keys, and the Jetta’s lights flashed once.

“What’s this? Did I get a ticket for being in the parking structure too long?” She strode ahead of him and plucked a piece of paper from beneath her windshield wipers.

Holding the scrap of paper in her hands, she glanced back at Nick, her mouth dropping open. “D-do you think he left this?”

His stride devoured the space between them, and with a muscle ticking in his jaw, he snatched the paper from her hand.

Two circles with dots in the middle, resembling a pair of eyes, stared back at him. The blood pounded in his head, his wound beneath the paramedics’ expert bandage throbbing with each beat. He crushed the piece of paper in his fist.

They’d come back.

They meant business.

And they wanted his brother.

Chapter Two

“Nick?” She ran her fingers over his white knuckles. “Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?”

He jerked his head up, his dark eyes focusing on her face, as if he’d been in a place far away.

“I’m okay. Just felt a little dizzy.” He unwrapped the crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it out on the hood of her car.

“Do you think it’s a message from the man who murdered Dr. B? I know this paper wasn’t on my car when I came down here before.” Her gaze slid to the circles, and a chill snaked up her spine.

“It could be.”

His color had returned to its normal olive complexion, but his tight jaw signaled some distress. The stubborn oaf should’ve let the paramedics take him to the hospital. Doctors always thought they knew better than every other medical professional…especially Dr. Perfect.

To keep from smoothing her hands across his worried brow, she slid the piece of paper from beneath his hand and lifted it between two fingers. “Looks like eyes. Do you think that means he’s watching me?”

She looked over her shoulder, peering into the dimly lit recesses of the parking garage. Her heart fluttered, and she tried to beat back the fear. She’d never lived her life in fear, even when her dad left the family, and she didn’t intend to start now.

“How’d he pick out my car, anyway?” She rolled her shoulders. “Maybe this is just a coincidence, a joke.”

“It’s not hard to figure out.” Nick pointed to the office-suite numbers painted on her parking space and the two empty ones beside her car. “Yours is the only car here, and even if the guy doesn’t know that the doctors park on the first level, I don’t know many doctors who drive Jettas.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are such a snob. Even in times of crisis, you don’t forget the medical hierarchy.”

He slammed his fist on the roof of her car. “Can you forget your own insecurities for two seconds while we work this through?”

She swallowed. The suave Dr. Perfect just morphed into this Nick Marino character with flashing dark eyes and a hard jaw. Like steel encased in velvet. It suddenly became clear why nobody messed with him at the hospital. Apparently, he possessed weapons other than charm in his arsenal of persuasion.

“Sure, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He rubbed his eyes and dragged his long fingers through thick, dark hair. “You’ve been through a lot today, and I’m standing here yelling at you.”

He opened her car door for her and nudged her back. “Go home and get some rest. Do you still have the Xanax I gave you? Take one.”

“What about this?” She waved the paper in his face. “Shouldn’t we tell Detective Chu about this?”

“I’ll go back up to the office and give it to him. The guy may have done it to scare you. Detective Chu’s probably right. He’s a drug addict hopped up on something.”

“I hope so.” She hugged herself, pulling her sweater tight. “I’m no threat to him. I can’t identify him, but if he left any evidence on the note that can be traced, it’s important that Chu see it. I want this guy caught. I want him to pay for what he did to Dr. B, and I’ll help any way I can.”

Nick put the note in the pocket of his slacks. “I doubt this piece of paper will help the detectives, but it’s worth a try. Get some sleep. I’ll check in on you tomorrow at the office, and remember, send Dr. B’s patients to me. If I can’t help them, I’ll refer them out.”

She slid onto the seat of the car and locked the doors. As she cruised out of the parking structure, she saw Nick in her rearview mirror, following her on foot. She drove slowly, and as she pulled up to the parking arm and slid her card key into the slot, Nick caught up with her bumper and slapped the trunk.

She wheeled onto the rain-slicked street. Nick lifted his hand, and she waved back.

Nick showed some real guts and heart today. Maybe Dr. Perfect had more depth than she ever imagined…and he was even better-looking up close and personal.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Lacey dragged her feet down the hallway toward the office with the yellow police tape criss-crossed over the doorway. A uniformed officer lounged nearby, talking to one of Nick’s office nurses, Petra. Lacey squared her shoulders. After yesterday’s terror and a sleepless night, she didn’t need one of Petra’s inquisitions. She wanted to get away from this office and return to the safety of her own home.

“Oh, my God, Lacey, you must’ve been terrified. Are you okay?” Petra hugged her, patting her back.

“My throat’s a little sore, but other than that, I’m fine. Dr. B didn’t fare so well.” Tears stung her nose and she rubbed it with a tissue.

“I know. I feel just awful….”

Petra trailed off. Dr. B was not known for his sparkling personality or great wit. He kept to himself, a morose, solitary man. The police notified his daughter in New Jersey, and Lacey had spoken with her on the phone this morning. She planned to fly his body back to Jersey for the funeral and burial.

The young officer cleared his throat. “Are you Lacey Kirk?”

“Yeah, do you need to see some ID or something?” She fumbled in her purse and drew out her wallet with her driver’s license.

He looked it over and unlocked the box attached to the office door.

“Can you believe that Nick came into the office today?” Petra shook her head. “He told us all about how he came to your rescue and chased off the bad guy, and he came in to work today even with that bandage on the side of his head.”

“He didn’t exactly chase off the bad guy.” Leave it to Dr. Perfect to put the perfect spin on the story. She blew out a breath. But he probably saved her life, and she never even thanked him for it. “He did come to my rescue, though.”

Petra sighed. “Must be nice.”

“To be choked by a murderer?”

“Oh, no, of course not.” Petra blinked and flapped her hands.

Lacey ducked under the police tape. She licked her lips as she surveyed the upended furniture and bloodstains in the reception area. Nick’s blood.

“Can I straighten this out now?”

The cop answered, “Sure. They’re done collecting evidence.”

“Are you going to wait in the hallway? You’re welcome to hang out here.”

“I’m okay.” He grinned at Petra.

She snapped the door shut. Great, the murderer could be lurking in here, and her only protection was flirting with a nurse in the hallway.

Her gaze darted to the door leading to the back rooms. When did Dr. B hear the intruder? If he had a gun, why didn’t he just shoot him when the guy came into his office? Maybe the murderer came in with his gun pulled first. Thank God he didn’t shoot her…or Nick.

Holding her breath, she crept through the door. The fax machine started churning, and she jumped. She watched a piece of paper slide into the fax tray. She froze. What if the killer faxed her a set of eyes?

She tiptoed to the fax machine and lifted the paper. An ad for a medical supply company. She shook her head and crumpled the single sheet. Get a grip.

Avoiding Dr. B’s office, she entered the supply room. Shards of glass from the cabinets littered the floor, and a caustic aroma rose from the sink, cluttered with broken bottles of medicine. Time to make that list of missing drugs for Detective Chu.

She returned to the reception area and pulled out the chair at her desk, perching on its edge. She’d never feel comfortable in this office again, which didn’t pose much of a problem since she’d probably never come back.

Dr. B worked alone, no partners. His two surgical nurses had been with him for years, as had his bookkeeper. Lacey had spoken to both of his nurses, Debbie Chase and Jill Zombrotto, last night. Detective Chu had already notified them, so the initial shock had worn off—at least for Debbie, the stoic one. Jill had always been more emotional, and she was still crying when Lacey spoke to her.

Their dedication to Dr. B never wavered, and Lacey wasn’t quite sure what they got in return. They probably could’ve earned more money at a busier practice, and they didn’t stick around for Dr. B’s jovial personality.

Dr. B valued privacy, especially after his wife, Rose, died. Lacey’s mom and Rose shared the same oncologist and became friendly in the waiting room. When Mom found out Rose’s husband needed a receptionist, she suggested Lacey. Rose had asked them to dinner a few times, so Lacey could meet Dr. B. She needed the job while she finished her last year of the hospice program, which she began after Mom’s cancer came back.

Mom passed away first, and Rose followed six months later. Dr. B didn’t need Lacey for emotional support after his wife died, but he still needed her office and nursing skills. He always kept to himself and frustrated her efforts at caretaking…even at the very end. She couldn’t do a thing to save him.

She powered on her computer and opened the database containing all of Dr. B’s patients, except the top-secret ones. Jill and Debbie could handle those.

After printing out an inventory of drugs in the office, she made several calls to give his patients the bad news. Many of them had already heard about the murder on TV or read about it in the newspaper. When they asked for a referral, she gave them Dr. Nick Marino’s name. He’d offered, hadn’t he?

She took care of other details to close down the office. His daughter could handle the logistics of his practice…and her sister. Dr. B’s other daughter, Abby, had Down syndrome and resided in a group home in Santa Cruz. She hoped the police would leave it to her sister to tell Abby the news.

She reached for her keys in the purse she’d hung on the back of her chair. Damn, she never did lock her desk last night. If she hadn’t forgotten, she never would’ve come back up here. The guy never would’ve attacked her. Nick never would’ve saved her.

She jerked open the middle desk drawer and frowned. She’d left the appointment book right on top last night. Not that she needed it. The book simply duplicated the database, because Dr. B preferred reviewing his appointments on paper rather than logging on to his computer. And Dr. B wouldn’t be reviewing appointments anymore.

“I’m going to grab some lunch downstairs. Are you okay?” The uniformed officer poked his head in the door. “Do you want me to get something for you?”

The thought of eating anything in this office turned her stomach. She declined his offer and searched the next drawer for the appointment book. Maybe Dr. B took it to his office last night.

She took a deep breath and pushed out of her chair. It felt as if her ankles had chains attached to them as she dragged her feet to Dr. B’s office.

The red stain on the carpet in front of his desk still looked damp. She edged around the other side, nudging his chair out of the way with her knee. The filing cabinet next to his desk, the one he kept locked, had been pried open. It contained the blue file folders for the doctor’s special patients, the ones who didn’t want to be identified. She ran her fingers along the tabs, but couldn’t tell if the intruder took anything from the cabinet.

She turned toward his desk and opened each drawer, searching through the contents. Dr. B kept a messy desk, but the disorder in the drawers topped anything she’d seen before.

The killer had searched the filing cabinet and the desk. If he wanted drugs, why look here? Maybe he wanted money or a prescription pad, too.

“Looking for something?”

She jumped, jerking the drawer out, its contents spilling on the floor. Nick’s large frame filled the doorway as he propped a shoulder against the doorjamb. His white coat billowed open to reveal another expensive shirt and silk tie. The man could grace the cover of GQ.

“You scared me.” She crouched to gather the junk from the drawer off the floor. “How’d you get in here?”

“The officer in the hallway let me in. Seems he and my nurse, Petra, have formed a close bond.”

She thumbed through the papers and notebooks before dropping them back in the drawer and picking up another stack. No appointment book.

“Petra works fast.”

“So do you.”

She sliced her finger on a paper edge. “What?”

“You’re back in here so soon after the murder to take care of everything. Where are Dr. Buonfoglio’s surgical nurses?”

“They were with him a long time.” She shoved the drawer back into the desk and stood up, sucking on her finger. “I spoke with them last night, and they’re shocked. They need a few days to recover before coming in here.” Especially Jill.

“Did you hurt your finger?” He stepped forward and held out his hand.

“It’s just a paper cut, Doc.”

“Let me see it, anyway.” He cupped his outstretched hand and gestured her forward.

Might as well humor the guy. He obviously had no problem taking charge of a situation, and recalling the way he flew through the door of the office last night to attack the intruder, she didn’t have a problem with it, either.

She held out her hand, and he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and peered at the slice on her finger that sported a tiny drop of blood. He had beautiful hands—surgeon’s hands—strong, capable, deft. She stopped. The surgeon’s hands last night delivered punishing blows, showing strength of another kind…brute strength.

“Dab some antiseptic on this and get a Band-Aid. The man last night didn’t steal all your Band-Aids, did he?”

She snatched her hand back. “I’m sure we have some in the examination room.”

“So what did he steal?”

She skirted past him and rounded the corner into the examination room. He followed.

“I’m sure he stole some drugs. I still have to compare my inventory against the mess he left behind and give a list to Detective Chu.” And the appointment book? She hadn’t found it among Dr. B’s clutter, either.

She grabbed a Band-Aid and spun around, meeting Nick’s dark eyes.

“Something else?” His brows rose.

“Last night you said the man was wearing a jacket big enough to conceal anything. Big enough to hide an eight-by-eleven notebook?”

“What kind of notebook?” Nick shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat and leaned against the wall, as if to strike a casual pose. The gestures failed. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, indicating anything but casual.

What did she expect? He was minding his own business last night, heard her scream and jumped into a life-and-death struggle.

“An appointment book.” She squared her hands in front of her. “I can’t find my appointment book.”

His shoulders relaxed. “You still keep an appointment book? Don’t you have a database on your computer?”

“I keep both. Dr. B liked to see his appointments on paper, all collected in one book.”

“Just names and dates, that kind of thing?” He flicked a piece of lint off his spotless sleeve.

Why was Dr. Nick Marino suddenly developing an interest in Dr. Buonfoglio’s method of keeping appointments? Well, even if he cultivated pretense, she didn’t.

“Yeah, names and phone numbers penciled in on a calendar. Why are you so interested?”

His eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t I be? A doctor on my floor, another cosmetic surgeon, is murdered and I’m supposed to take it in stride? Shrug it off?”

She bit her lip. He had a point. She was supposed to be the caring hospice nurse and he the coldhearted, money-grubbing cosmetic surgeon.

“I’m sorry, Nick. You have every right to be concerned, and I never even thanked you for saving my life.”

He shrugged. “As a cosmetic surgeon, I don’t get to save a life every day. Do you need help with the inventory?”

“What about your patients? Don’t you need to get back to work?”

“I canceled all my appointments for the rest of the day.” He pointed to the bandage on his head. “I’m afraid this didn’t inspire much confidence in my patients this morning.”

She accepted his help, and after she grabbed the inventory list off her desk, they snapped on matching rubber gloves to sort through the mess in the supply room. She checked off each item and quantity on her list as Nick pieced together broken bottles and smashed containers.

When Nick swept up the last of the glass from the floor, Lacey sat back on her heels and frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“What?” He dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash bin they’d ordered from Facilities.

“There’s really not that much missing from this list.” She tapped the pen on the paper. “It just looked like he stole a lot because he trashed the place.”

“Maybe he grabbed the easy-to-steal sample packets. Do you keep an inventory of those? I don’t. Maybe you interrupted him before he could get down to business.”

“Why did he smash everything if he was looking for drugs to steal? Unless…” She stood up and lodged a shoulder against the doorjamb.

“Unless what?” Nick looked up sharply.

“Unless he just wanted it to look like he was after the drugs.”

He banged the lid on the trash can and leaned over it, not turning around to look at her. “What was he after, Nancy Drew?”

Why did he sound so angry with her? The fumes must’ve gone to his head. “I don’t know, but he thought he might find it in Dr. B’s desk.”

“Was anything missing other than the appointment book?” He turned slowly, still gripping the trash can behind him.

“Not that I could tell. Are you okay? Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea for you to be crouching over for an hour cleaning up with that head injury.”

He plowed a hand through his hair, careful to avoid his bandage. “I’m starving. How about you? Do you want to join me for lunch?”

“Sure, but let me pay since you helped me out here…and for last night. I can’t face Antonio’s. Can we walk down the street a little to the Chinese place?”

“It’s a deal.” He peeled off the gloves and dropped them into the trash.

When Nick opened the office door for her, the cop on duty stepped to the side, still talking to Petra. Petra’s gaze darted between the two of them, a red tide washing across her face.

“I didn’t know you were in there, Dr. Marino. Since we don’t have any patients today, I figured I’d return some calls and phone in a few prescriptions. I’m just taking a break.”

“No problem.” He shrugged out of his lab coat. “Can you hang this up for me when you get back to the office? Lacey and I are grabbing some lunch.”

Hugging the coat to her chest, Petra raised her brows over a pair of inquisitive blue eyes that Lacey could feel burning into the back of her head until she turned the corner to the elevator. Nick generated a lot of interest and speculation among the women at the office and the hospital.

Well, let them speculate. The least she could do was to buy him lunch. He came to her aid last night and helped out again today. Who would’ve suspected Dr. Marino of having a chivalrous streak?

They trudged uphill on the damp sidewalk, and a slice of blue San Francisco Bay rewarded their efforts when they got to the top. Last night’s rain rinsed the sky clean, leaving a few puffy white clouds tumbling in the breeze.

The afternoon lunch rush had long since cleared out, and only a few tables of tourists remained in the restaurant when they got there.

Keeping that chivalry thing going, Nick pulled out her chair. It had been a while since a man pulled out her chair on a date. Who was she kidding? It had been a while since she’d been on a date. Not that she considered this a date.

“Do you like it spicy?”

He quirked a brow, looking ten kinds of suave, and warmth flooded her cheeks. Good thing this wasn’t a date.

“The food…I mean, do you like spicy food?”

“Yeah, I do.” He shook open the plastic menu. “I’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?”

She rattled off a few dishes, careful to stick to the lunch menu. Either he took the hint about her budget, or his mama raised him right, because he ordered one of the cheapest lunch specials.

She poured tea for both of them. “Did you grow up in the Bay Area or are you a transplant like so many others?”

“I’m afraid I’m a transplant but an early one. I moved here when I was eleven. How about you?”

“California native. My parents moved here from Chicago.”

“Does your family still live here?”

“No. My mom died almost a year ago, and my brother, Ryan, is a marine stationed with a peacekeeping force in Kosovo.”

He put down his teacup, keeping his hands wrapped around it. “I’m sorry about your mom. What about your dad?”

She’d never met a man who asked so many questions, especially a doctor. Usually they blabbed on about themselves and their marvelous achievements.

“Do you really want to hear my sad story?”

“Only if you want to tell it. I respect people’s privacy. That’s part of my job.”

She looked into his dark eyes, eyes that invited confidences but gave nothing back. Eyes that encouraged patients to open up about their fears and insecurities about their looks and their deepest desires for love, acceptance and eternal youth.

“My dad was having an affair, and when my mom got sick he just up and left us for the other woman. Then he moved to Florida with the other woman and started a whole new family with her.” She paused as the waiter set down their dishes. “Mom was a nurse and Dad’s a doctor.”

“Oh. Do you want to share entrées?” When she nodded, he served her first and then himself. “When did your father leave? You said your mom died a year ago.”

“My dad left when my brother and I were teenagers. Guess he figured he’d owe less child support. Mom was diagnosed with cancer then, went into remission and had a relapse two years ago.”

“Ah, that explains the specialty in palliative care.”

“Am I that transparent? Why did you become a doctor?”

“The usual reasons.” He lifted a broad shoulder. “I know the nurse who runs your program, May Pritchard. How do you like it?”

And just like that, he had her describing the program and explaining how she was a medical assistant and decided to return to school. By the time she paid the fifteen-dollar bill plus tax and tip, she realized she didn’t know a damn thing about Dr. Nick Marino other than the paltry facts that he moved to California when he was eleven and became a doctor for “the usual reasons,” whatever that meant—probably money, judging by his specialty and lifestyle.

When they stepped off the elevator on their floor, Lacey extended her hand. “I’m going the other way to hit the ladies’ room. Thanks for all your help, Nick. I’ll probably be back in here a few more times, and then I’ll leave Dr. B’s office for his daughter to settle. Maybe I’ll see you around the hospital.”

“I hope so, Lacey.” He squeezed her hand and then disappeared around the corner.

She fished the key to the ladies’ room out of her purse and slid it into the lock. “I hope so” didn’t sound very promising, but then what did she expect? He probably listened to her go on about the nursing program because he felt sorry for her, or worse, he had an interest in May Pritchard, an attractive redhead.

As she washed her hands, the door swung open and Petra stepped into the restroom.

“How was your lunch?”

“It was fine. I wanted to repay Nick for coming to the rescue last night and helping me out today.”

“Just be careful.” Petra’s eyes met hers in the mirror.

“Be careful? I don’t have anything to worry about. I didn’t see the intruder’s face. I can’t identify him, and I doubt he could identify me.”

Petra rolled her eyes. “Not about that. I mean watch yourself with Nick. He’s a player. Total love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. He’ll date a woman two, maybe three times, and that’s it. Nobody gets close to Dr. Nick Marino.”

“I’m safe.” She swiped her lipstick across her lips with an unsteady hand. “I’m not interested in getting close.”

Lacey shoved out of the ladies’ room. The last thing she needed was another arrogant doctor in her life. She chose nursing because of Mom, but vowed not to make the same mistake as her mother by dating doctors. She worked with them—that’s it.

She turned the corner to find a cluster of people at the office doorway. Detective Chu and Nick looked up at the same time wearing matching frowns, only Nick looked more serious than the detective.

Lacey’s heart skittered in her chest, and she took a deep breath. Detective Chu probably just wanted the list of missing narcotics, but why had he shown up in person to get it?

“Did you come by for the inventory, Detective?” Lacey crossed her arms, hugging her purse to her chest.

“I’ll take it, but I think the killer may have been after more than drugs, Lacey.”

Her gaze darted to Nick, who stood stiffly beside her, his own arms crossed over his chest.

“H-how do you know?”

Detective Chu rubbed his jaw and expelled a breath. “Someone murdered Debbie Chase this morning.”

Chapter Three

“M-murdered?” Lacey took a step back and held up her hands, as if to ward off Detective Chu’s words…and their meaning.

Nick dug his fingers into his arms to keep from reaching out and holding her. Both she and the detective would find his response unwarranted and over the top, but Lacey didn’t know the menace that threatened her, and neither did Detective Chu. He had to keep her in the dark for her own safety.

Could he protect her and his brother, too?

“Oh, my God.” She covered her face with her hands. “How did Debbie die?”

“She was strangled.” Detective Chu lifted the police tape and ushered Lacey through, her fingers tracing the bruise on her throat. “Let’s go in here to discuss this.”

Nick followed them. He had to find out as much information as he could. Lacey’s life depended on it, and so did his brother’s.

“What does he want? It can’t be the drugs.” Lacey paced the carpet, twisting her hands in front of her.

“I’m not sure, but he’s definitely looking for something, and he’s desperate to find it. He tore apart Debbie’s house.”

“I guess he didn’t find it in the appointment book.”

Detective Chu looked up from his notes. “Appointment book?”

Nick sucked in a breath. How far would this investigation go? How far could he let it go? He didn’t want any more people to suffer, but he didn’t want the cops to get any more leads. He had to do this on his own. If only Dr. Buonfoglio’s secrets had died with him, but someone out there believed at least one of his surgical nurses shared those secrets. And what about Lacey?

He watched her as she told Chu everything she’d discovered today—the missing appointment book, Dr. B’s ransacked desk and the full inventory of drugs. She didn’t know anything, and Nick intended to keep it that way.

“So I thought it was odd. If the guy wanted drugs, why did he smash everything? What’s he looking for?” She spread her arms wide.

“Did the doctor have any enemies, any lawsuits going on? Any botched surgeries?” Chu tapped his notebook.

Snapping his fingers, Nick said, “Sometimes a patient believes something went wrong with the surgery, but doesn’t have a case for a lawsuit. Cosmetic surgery is subjective in many instances. It could be a patient, dissatisfied with his surgery, trying to get something on him.”

He wanted to steer Chu in as many wrong directions as possible. If he could just buy some time, he might be able to salvage the situation and protect everyone involved. Then he’d give the SFPD and the FBI just enough information to bring the killer—and those who hired him—to justice.

“It must be someone who’s familiar with the office. How would he know about Debbie and where she lived?” Lacey stopped wearing a hole in the carpet and clutched her stomach. “He’s watching me, too.”

“Someone’s watching you?” Chu asked.

“The eyes.” She waved her arms. “The eyes on my car last night.” She turned to Nick. “You did bring that piece of paper back up to Detective Chu after I left last night, didn’t you?”

Nick nodded. Even though he didn’t want to show those eyes to Chu, he’d given him the note.

“I’m going to be sick.” Lacey’s creamy complexion turned a waxy white as she clutched her midsection.

“Sit down.” Nick took one flailing arm and led Lacey to a chair. “I’ll get you some water.”

As Nick filled a disposable cup from the water dispenser, Detective Chu said, “We don’t know that, Lacey. That paper with the eyes could’ve come from anyone. We don’t even know if those were supposed to be eyes.”

She thanked Nick for the water and took a sip, the whiteness around her lips receding.

“They looked like eyes to me, Detective.” She shook her head, her silky dark hair falling over one shoulder. “He plans to watch me just as he watched Debbie, like he’s probably watching Jill. Am I next?”

“That depends on what you know, or what he thinks you know, and we’ve already contacted Jill Zombrotto to tell her to be careful.”

“This is all just speculation.” Nick jumped up between Detective Chu and Lacey. He had to stop this line of questioning. “It could just be some nut job, a disgruntled patient or the relative of one. Maybe Dr. Buonfoglio gave some woman a younger face and a breast augmentation and she left her husband for the cabana boy. Now her husband’s taking it out on the doctor and searched the office to make it look like a burglary.”

Detective Chu’s eyebrows shot up and Lacey’s jaw dropped as she stared at him. Okay, maybe he should back off, or he’d have Detective Chu investigating him. And he couldn’t have that. Ever.

“I think you’re stretching it, Nick.” Lacey’s brow creased. “What did Jill have to say? Did she seem to think Dr. B had something to hide?” Lacey’s knee bounced up and down, the water sloshing over the side of the paper cup and onto her jeans.

Chu’s lips twisted. “Actually, she had the same response as Dr. Marino—disgruntled patient.”

Nick massaged the back of his neck. Either that nurse had an active imagination or she had as much to hide as he did.

Detective Chu finished questioning Lacey, but she had nothing to add to the speculation.

Nick’s pulse quickened when Chu asked her about the special patients who slipped in and out of the office incognito.

“I don’t know much about them….” She stopped and smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I forgot. The guy broke into Dr. B’s locked filing cabinet, the one that contained the files for those special patients.”

The blood pounded in Nick’s ears as his heart hammered. He turned his back on Lacey and Chu and got some water, schooling the tension out of his tight face.

Chu asked, “Was anything missing?”

“Not that I could tell, but Deb…I mean Jill will have a better idea.”

Closing his eyes, Nick gulped the water and then took in a deep breath. Even though Dr. Buonfoglio lived life on the edge, there was no way he’d keep sensitive files in a locked filing cabinet in his office. Why had he kept those records at all?

“Can you do another search of Dr. Buonfoglio’s files to see if anything’s missing? We’ll have Ms. Zombrotto come into the office tomorrow and check out that filing cabinet. Maybe between the two of you, we can find out what this guy’s after.”

“C-can you offer any protection, Detective Chu?”

Lacey’s wide green eyes got wider, and her hands gripped the arms of the chair as if she was ready for takeoff. Nick’s gut twisted. Those bastards ruined lives, but he’d be damned if he’d let them touch anyone close to him again.

“I’m afraid we don’t have the manpower for that.” He stuffed his notebook back in his pocket. “Just be aware of your surroundings. Get the security guard to escort you down to your car. Officer Bennett will be stationed outside the office until you and Ms. Zombrotto finish your search of the files.”

Nick jumped to his feet. As if an unarmed security guard could protect her. He’d have to take his own measures. “If you’re ready to leave now, Lacey, I’ll walk you down.”

Her gaze darted around the room, and she pressed her fingers to her temples. “I think I will leave now. I’ll come back in tomorrow when Jill’s here, and we can look through Dr. B’s stuff together.”

After she locked her desk and gave Chu the inventory, they stepped into the hallway and Officer Bennett secured the door behind them.

“Wait here while I check in with my office.” Nick held up his hand, and then jogged to his office.

Zoe, his receptionist, looked up as he burst through the door. “Dr. Marino, are you coming back in? I canceled all your appointments.”

“No, I’m not in to see patients, but I’ll be back up to do some work and you can put calls through.” He strode to his office and slammed the door behind him. He plucked his jacket from the hook on the back of the door and shrugged into it. Then he crouched behind his desk, unlocking it, and pulled open the bottom drawer. He didn’t even check to see if the gun was loaded before slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. He always kept a loaded gun with him. Old habits died hard.

“I’ll be right back.” He waved to Zoe on his way out the door.

His shallow breathing returned to normal when he saw Lacey talking to the cop in front of Dr. Buonfoglio’s office. She obviously had no clue about the types of surgeries her boss occasionally performed, but the surgical nurses knew.

How long before the remaining nurse, Jill Zombrotto, spilled the beans to the cops, or worse, the FBI? She’d be in hot water herself, so maybe she’d decide to take her chances with the other side. Nick couldn’t allow her to take any chances.

He might just have to pay a visit to Jill Zombrotto himself.

LACEY STACKED THE LAST of the dinner dishes for one in the dishwasher and dried her hands. She left the pot of chili on the stove to cool off. Lifting her tea bag from her cup, she watched the droplets splash into the amber liquid as she inhaled the cinnamon scent. She eyed the open books on her kitchen table, and then skirted the table on her way to the worn, comfy sofa. She had to do some advance reading for her next class, which started in a week, but had zero concentration.

Just like that, half of the people she worked with were dead. Why? What secrets did Dr. B have that warranted murder?

Lacey curled her legs beneath her on the sofa as she wrapped her hands around her warm cup. Dr. Nick Marino had secrets, too. His dark eyes told a different story from the attractive, easygoing, playboy bachelor about town. They held wariness and pain.

She snorted into her cup. Like Dr. Perfect needs tea and sympathy from you. The wariness probably came from being on guard against lusty, gold-digging women. Now that she’d met Nick and broke bread with him, she totally got those women—not the gold-digging part but the lusty part.

When he walked her to the parking garage this afternoon, he dipped his head, his lips hovering so close to hers she almost expected a kiss, and despite her previous disdain for him, she wouldn’t have minded one bit.

At lunch he showed more humility than she expected. He spent the entire lunchtime questioning her, and didn’t once mention his burgeoning practice or his graduation from Stanford Medical School at the top of his class.

He took his guardian angel duties seriously, too, sort of like a knight in a white coat instead of on a white horse. Before she ducked into her car, he held her shoulders in a caress and told her to be careful.

She shook her head and slurped her tea. He probably loved this new role, which gave him the chance to play hero to all his adoring female fans.

The ringing phone halted any further thoughts about the mysterious Dr. Marino. She placed her cup on the coffee table, bounded up from the sofa and scooped the phone from the counter. “Hello?”

“Hi, Lacey, it’s Jill.”

“I’m so happy to hear your voice.” Lacey sank back onto the sofa and grabbed a pillow. “I tried to call you earlier when I heard about Debbie.”

“I—I was out all day. It just seemed safer.” Jill’s husky voice almost whispered across the phone line, sending a chill creeping along Lacey’s flesh.

“What do you mean, safer? Are you in danger?”

“We’re all in danger, Lacey, even you.”

“What’s this about, Jill?” She dug her fingernails into the pillow. “Who killed Dr. B and Debbie?”

Jill sobbed. “I shouldn’t tell you anything, but I can’t do this alone. You see, I have the key, not Debbie, not Dr. B. I have it.”

“What key?” Jill sounded an inch away from total hysteria. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I could give the key to Lacey. She doesn’t know anything. They won’t hurt her. She can give the key to the FBI. The FBI won’t punish her. She didn’t assist in the surgeries.”

“Jill.” Lacey’s voice was as sharp as the pain in the back of her head. She had to bring Jill back from the brink of panic. “Where’s the key, Jill? What does it unlock?”

“I keep it with me always, close to my heart. Can I give you the key, Lacey? They won’t hurt you. I promise. Or you can go on the run with me. I always wanted a daughter, but they wouldn’t let me. I could never have a family. You don’t have a family, either. We could be a family, Lacey.”

Through her tears, Jill babbled about keys and families and daughters, no longer forming coherent sentences.

“Jill? Hang up the phone and lie down.” Lacey spoke with a calmness her trembling hands belied. “I’m on my way over.”

With frightening clarity, Jill answered, “They’ll kill us. Pack your bag. We’re leaving tonight,” and then ended the call.

Lacey sat clutching the phone in her lap for a moment, her hands clammy and her mouth dry. The murders of Dr. B and Debbie had hit Jill hard…that’s all. The three of them had been together for years. Jill and Debbie didn’t have families. They put everything into their work, and naturally Jill felt the loss down to her bones.

That had to be it. Lacey didn’t want it to be anything more sinister. After the turbulence of her childhood, she’d plotted and planned her life carefully to follow an even course. Fate couldn’t play such a cruel joke on her.

Tossing the pillow to the side, she pushed off the sofa. She replaced the phone in the kitchen and dumped her tea in the sink. Time to act like a nurse.

She grabbed her jacket and dropped the sample pack of Xanax Nick gave her last night into her pocket. Jill needed it a lot more than she did.

The moist air caressed her face as she stepped off the porch of the little house in Sunset her mom bought after she and Dad sold the more luxurious digs in Nob Hill. Dad enjoyed all the flash and image. That’s why he left Mom for that young pharmaceutical saleswoman.

The heavy fog rolled off the bay, creating a damp curtain around her as she moved toward the Jetta parked on the street. She’d been to Jill’s apartment just once, but she’d looked up the address in her phone book, and its location just up from Fisherman’s Wharf would be easy to find.

Thirty-five minutes later, Lacey’s car rolled to a stop across the street from Jill’s apartment building. The fog, thicker down here, smelled of fish and brine, and she moved into its embrace as she approached the pink stucco building lit by floodlights. She found Jill’s name on one of the labels next to the dull gold buttons, which she jabbed with her finger.

Damn, no answer. Had Jill fallen into an exhausted sleep? Maybe she’d been drinking and passed out.

She stepped back and a sliver of light fell across her shoes. Her gaze tracked the light to a crack in the door where someone had wedged it open with a magazine. So much for security measures.

Lacey pushed open the door, slick with moisture, and wiped her hands on her jeans. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the lobby, musty like old shoes. The elevator doors creaked open. She stepped inside, punching the button to the third floor over and over, as if that could make the old car move faster.

The threadbare carpet in the corridor muffled her steps as she trailed a hand along the wall, peering at apartment numbers etched into brass plates on each door. She reached number 329 at the end of the hallway and tapped on the door. Silence.

If Jill didn’t answer, maybe she could get the manager to open the door. She could always claim to be Jill’s daughter. After that hysterical phone call, Lacey wanted to check on Jill even if she was sleeping.

She rapped one knuckle on the door while trying the doorknob. The handle turned and Lacey glanced down, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. If Jill was worried about her safety, why’d she leave her door unlocked?

A whisper of fear brushed the back of Lacey’s neck as she gripped the door handle. She put her ear to the door, hearing nothing but the resounding beat of her heart.

She nudged the door with her hip and poked her head inside. A Tiffany lamp burned brightly in the corner of the room, throwing triangles of color on the wall.

“Jill?” Lacey stepped into the room, leaving the front door open behind her. She tiptoed forward, sucking in a breath when she saw a desk drawer pulled open and papers scattered across the hardwood floor.

God, not again.

Somewhere in her head, a voice cried, “Run, run, run,” but her feet plodded one after the other, moving to another instinct that commanded her to help Jill.

An orange ball of fur rushed past her, skidding to a stop in the bathroom. The cat’s plaintive cries echoed throughout the apartment, bringing a rash of goose bumps to Lacey’s arms.

She hovered at the entrance to the short hallway, which branched into a bedroom, a bathroom and a closet, its door gaping open. She had a clear view of the bathroom and the orange tabby meowing on the tattered bath rug. The bedroom door stood ajar, an almost palpable menace oozing from its interior. Still her feet carried her forward. The door whined on its hinges as Lacey pushed it open.

Jill’s body lay sprawled across the bed, the chintz coverlet clutched in one fist, her eyes bulging from their sockets. Discoloration marked her neck, and her other hand lay across her breast, fingers inches from her throat and the silver chain she always wore.

Lacey brought one of her own fists to her mouth and pressed it against her lips as sour bile rose up her gut. She inched toward the bed and crouched beside it, careful not to disturb anything around Jill’s body. Just like she did in Dr. B’s office, Lacey felt for a pulse…and got the same result.

An intake of breath behind her stirred her hair, and a scream gathered in her lungs. Before the scream escaped her lips, a large hand clamped over her mouth, pressing the back of her head against a solid thigh.

She twisted her head and bit the hand that held her captive. The hand dropped, and she spun around on her knees, ready to launch out of the room when the intruder grabbed her arm.

“Lacey, it’s me.”

Her gaze flew to the stranger’s face, only he wasn’t a stranger at all. Dr. Perfect’s perfect features were gathered in a scowl as he sucked on his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She jumped up to face him. “Jill’s dead, and you’re creeping around her apartment?”

“Shhh.” He gripped her shoulders, his fingers biting through her jacket into her flesh. “I’m not creeping around her apartment. I just got here.”

“So your first instinct is to sneak up behind me and clap your hand over my mouth?” She wrenched out of his grasp. “Why are you here?”

“That’s not important right now. What happened?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She spread her arms to encompass the disheveled bedroom. “The killer found Jill and murdered her, just like Dr. B, just like Debbie.”

Rocking back, she covered her face as the enormity of the situation hit her square in the jaw. Nick engulfed her in an embrace, and her head fell all too easily against his shoulder. His arms tightened around her as he rested his chin on top of her head. He smelled like soap and toothpaste and comfort.

She rubbed her nose against his denim shirt, leaving a wet smudge, and looked up into his face. “We have to call the police.”

“No!” His body stiffened. “Not yet.”

“What’s your problem?” She narrowed her eyes, pulling back from the reassurance of his arms. “At the very least, we have to get out of here. What if the killer comes back?”

“Let him try.” Nick lifted his shirt to reveal a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

“Have you lost your mind?” She stumbled back, her legs wedging against Jill’s bed, all sense of comfort gobbled up by a wave of panic. “Why do you have a gun? Why are you even here?”

He closed his eyes and brushed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead. Blowing out a breath, he straightened his shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

“I’m here to save my brother’s life.”

Chapter Four

Confusion and mistrust mingled in Lacey’s face. Her words about her father at lunch hinted at her low opinion of doctors. Nick had to work twice as hard to win her trust, and he knew instinctively the charm he tried diligently to cultivate for the phony life he led wouldn’t do the job. Honesty and sincerity would win the day with Lacey Kirk, but he had very little of those qualities to share right now.

“What does your brother have to do with any of this?” She crossed her arms over her chest, as if creating a barrier to her heart, as if to guard her sympathy from phony sob stories.

He rubbed her unyielding shoulder, resisting an urge to take her in his arms again. It felt good having her there…too good. It had been years since he’d experienced any real emotion with a woman. He couldn’t afford it ever since his brother went on the run. And even before that.

“Let’s discuss this elsewhere.” Although Lacey’s feet seemed rooted to the carpet, Nick propelled her out of the bedroom and into Jill’s Spartan living room. The woman lived as if ready to take flight at a moment’s notice.

“Start discussing—” Lacey plucked a cell phone out of the purse hanging from her shoulder and smacked it against her palm “—because I’m about thirty seconds away from calling the cops.”

Charm definitely wouldn’t work with Lacey. He rubbed his chin. “My brother’s the real target. Dr. Buonfoglio did some work on him. I think this killer is after the doctor’s files to get information on my brother’s changed identity and his whereabouts.”

“I take it your brother isn’t some actor who wants to keep his face-lift a secret, is he?” With her green eyes narrowed to slits, she resembled that cat washing itself in the bathroom.

“No.” He planned to keep this short and simple.

“Why did Dr. B change your brother’s face? Is your brother a bad person, a criminal?”

“He’s made some bad choices, but he doesn’t deserve to die for them. The people after him are worse.”

“Does he owe them money?”

“Something like that.” His brother’s involvement with the De Luca Family went deeper than money, but the less she knew the better. He didn’t want to explain how much he owed his brother, how his brother had saved his life and what it cost him to do it.

She turned and paced, but at least she no longer seemed poised for flight and she’d dropped the cell phone back in her purse.

He held his breath, waiting for the next question. Lacey had too much intelligence and integrity to accept his explanation at face value without further interrogation. He could almost hear her brain clicking as she worked through his story.

Hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans, she stopped in front of him. “You’re a cosmetic surgeon, why didn’t your brother come to you?”

“He did come to me…for a referral. He didn’t want to involve me.” He’d begged T.J. to let him do the surgery, but his brother refused. Maybe T.J. knew the day would come when the De Lucas discovered he’d altered his face, and he didn’t want his kid brother in the line of fire…even though T.J. had stepped into the line of fire for him.

“So you referred him to Dr. B? You dragged Dr. B into this mess?” She hunched her shoulders, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “You killed him.”

Combing his hands through his hair, he sighed. He didn’t want to get into all this. They didn’t have time, but before he enlisted Lacey’s help he had to convince her he deserved it.

“Lacey, Dr. B was already involved in this mess.” He plucked her hand out of her pocket and rubbed his thumb in the center of her palm. “I referred my brother to Dr. Buonfoglio precisely because I knew he did that kind of work.”

Her hand jerked in his. “Dr. B changed criminals’ faces? Why? Why would he do something like that?”

“For Abby. He did it for Abby.” He felt like scum playing the sympathy card, but he had to get through to her. One thing he’d discovered about Lacey Kirk was if she deemed you worthy, she’d brave the fires of hell to help you.

Shaking her head, she blinked her eyes. “What do you know about Dr. B’s daughter?”

“I know it’s expensive to keep her in that group home.”

“Oh, my God, he did do it for the money.”

“He did it for his daughter.” He grabbed her other hand and pulled her toward him, a sharp pain lancing his chest. “A man will do just about anything for his child. Don’t judge him, Lacey.”

“In the end, how did Dr. B’s criminal behavior help Abby? He’s dead.” Her mouth formed a thin, obstinate line.

She’d just appointed herself judge, jury and executioner, although someone else had handled that last job for her. She may have a boatload of sympathy, but she reserved it for those who earned it, like her patients. Could he earn her sympathy?

He squeezed her hands. “Look, we could debate this all night, but there’s a dead woman in the bedroom and we have to call the cops.”

“I’m glad you recognize that.” She shrugged out of his grasp and reached into her purse for her cell phone.

He snatched the phone from her hand. “But first I’m asking for your help.”

Her jaw hardened as she made a grab for her phone, but he held it above his head out of her reach.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Dr. Perfect?” Her brows snapped together, an angry flush rushing into her cheeks.

The phone almost slid from his grip. So that’s what she thought of him. “That’s just it, Lacey. I’m not perfect, and neither are you or Dr. B or anyone. Even if you won’t help me, just give me a few minutes to search Jill’s place.”

“Search for what?” She waved her arms around the room. “The bad guys already did that, and if they found what they wanted, your brother’s toast, anyway.”

He dropped the phone, shoulders slumping under the heavy weight he’d been carrying more years than he cared to remember. Was he too late? Had the situation already slipped out of his control?

Lacey gasped and took his face in her hands. “Nick, I’m so sorry. What a stupid, insensitive thing to say, and I’m supposed to be the caring hospice nurse. If my teachers heard me, they’d cashier me right out of the program. I know all about hauling brothers who make bad choices out of trouble. Search away. Let me know when you’re done, and we’ll call the police. There’s nothing anyone can do for Jill now, anyway.”

And just like that, he got Lacey Kirk, crusader for justice, on his side without even trying. He kissed her mouth and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from his pocket. He ignored her wide eyes, not bothering to determine if her shock came from the kiss or the gloves, and skirted the sofa to search through the papers on the floor.

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