I'm in It (The Reed Brothers 10)

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“I thought what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her… until it did.”

Chapter 1

The buzzer on my phone went off, and I ignored it, preferring to push papers around on my desk, pretending to look busy. I had patient charts to review, medications to approve, and a plethora of patients who were waiting for me to make rounds. But first… first I had to find her. I had to at least try, although, in my heart of hearts, I knew she wouldn’t be found until she was good and ready.

The phone buzzed again, and I hit the button, marking me busy so no one could buzz me anymore. I had too much on my mind. I knew I might even have to take a few days off so I could get my shit together.

I checked her bank accounts. I checked her credit cards. I checked her social media profile. I checked her phone. I checked everything, and I still had no idea where she was.

Suddenly, the door of my office flew open. The door slammed hard against the opposite wall and in rolled a ball of fire.

My secretary followed her, trying to stop her forward trajectory, to no avail.

“What the fuck did you do?” the intruder snarled, bending over my desk so she could slam her fist on the wood in front of me.

My heart eased a little. If Ash was here, things would be okay. She could help me find her. She might already know where she was.

I sat back in my chair and made a steeple of my hands in front of me. “Ash,” I said with a nod. “Always such a pleasure.”

“Dr. Peterson, I’m so sorry,” my secretary stammered from behind Ash. “I told her you didn’t want to be disturbed, but she wouldn’t listen.” She reached for Ash’s arm, but Ash jerked back and then made a move like a charging bull at the poor woman. Mrs. Anderson blanched and backed up against the wall, her hand upon her heart.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Anderson,” I said calmly.

“I told her, Dr. Peterson. I really did,” she said, her voice shaking against the fury that was Ash.

“It’s okay,” I said calmly. “She can stay. Can you close the door on the way out?” I asked.

“Do you want me to call security?” Her gaze dragged up and down Ash’s clothing, stopping on the torn jeans where we could all see a little too much of Ash’s thigh. Then again on the shirt that was short enough to show a strip of soft, supple stomach. The lace of her bra, which stuck out the top of the ripped shirt she wore, was torn and frayed. The dirty, scuffed, overfilled backpack she carried had all her wordly possessions in it, I was sure. Ash liked to travel light. And dirty.

“No,” I said, still not moving. “You can close the door. We have a little business to take care of.”

“Are you certain, Dr. Peterson?” she asked, her gaze jumping from me to Ash and back.

Ash lifted her voice up high and mocked Mrs. Anderson. “Are you certain, Dr. Peterson?” she chimed. “Of course, he’s certain, bitch. Now get out.” Ash made a move like she was going to jump toward Mrs. Anderson, and Mrs. Anderson scurried quickly to the door. Ash slammed it shut behind her.

“Always so nice to see you,” I said slowly.

“Where the fuck is she?” Ash perched her curvy little ass on the edge of the chair on the other side of my desk. She rested her arms on the table and glared at me.

“What makes you think she’s gone?” I asked. I pretended to be concerned with the papers on my desk, stacking them into organized piles.

“I just left the apartment. She’s not there.”

“Lynn’s not a prisoner, you know,” I remind her. Although, if I was truly honest, I knew she kind of was. She didn’t leave the apartment, not unless something was terribly wrong, or unless I was with her.

“Lynn’s not a prisoner,” she parroted. “What did you do?” She glared at me.

“When was the last time you had a shower?” I countered.

She froze, but didn’t answer my question.

Ash was a friend of Lynn’s, and she lived on the streets most of the time when she was in town. She did odd jobs, a little waitressing when she could find someone with poor enough standards to hire her. With her heavy eyeliner, deep black makeup, and combat boots, she was a study in contradictions. Deep down, I knew she was good. But on the surface, she was bad. Very, very bad.

“Where have you been sleeping?” I asked.

“Here and there.” She kicked back and lifted her scuffed and worn combat boots to rest on the edge of my desk.