Читать книгу Mountain Shelter - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, Jayne attempted to maintain a calm breathing pattern. Nobody wanted a jumpy brain surgeon; she had a responsibility to her patient to remain calm. The worst thing would be to let her father get her rattled.

Dramatically, Peter the Great rose from the chair and stood behind her desk. His barrel chest puffed out like a rooster. She hadn’t seen him in ages, not since she’d bought her house and he came to Denver to tell her it was a dump in spite of the changes she’d made, which she took as a challenge to renovate even more. In his tailored gray pinstripe suit with his neatly barbered chocolate-brown hair, which was the same color as hers, he managed to look decades younger than the age indicated by his birth certificate.

He wore his “concerned” face—an expression that hadn’t changed since she’d come home from kindergarten with a bloody nose and Dad had hired a professional boxer to teach her self-defense. There was a crease between her father’s dark eyebrows; his chin jutted out and his mouth pulled into a frown.

“Last night,” he said in his resonant baritone, “you should have called me to let me know you were all right. I was worried.”

It’s not always about you. Anger seethed inside her. She wanted to scream and yell and tell him that she could have been hurt, could have been kidnapped and it was his fault. But what if it wasn’t? What if their suspicions were wrong? She was furious and, at the same time, she felt an ache inside. She wanted to rest her head against his shoulder and cry away her fears and doubts.

Preventing either response—yelling or weeping—Dylan extended his hand and introduced himself as her bodyguard. “I’m the one who kept Jayne from calling you. For her safety, we moved her to a secure location and turned off her cell phone so the intruder couldn’t triangulate her signal and find her.”

“You’re the guy I talked to on the phone this morning, the one who wouldn’t tell me where you took my daughter.”

“That’s correct.”

“You’ve got one hell of a nerve, son.”

“Over the phone, I can’t accurately verify your identity.”

“You sure can. I can send you my photo. Or you can watch in real time while I’m talking on my cell phone.”

“The intruder disarmed a high-tech, high-quality alarm system at the house. Hacking a cell phone and transmitting a false identification would be child’s play for him.”

“Jayne should have used another phone to call me.”

“Dr. Shackleford requires several hours of sleep before she performs delicate neurosurgery.” Dylan turned to her. “Doctor, you should speak to your assistant, Eloise. I have a few questions for your father regarding Martin Koslov.”

He practically shoved her out of the office, and she couldn’t have been more grateful. She walked down a short hallway to an attractive waiting room, where two patients sat in comfortable chairs reading old magazines. The medical assistant/receptionist was feeding the gang of tropical fish in the five-foot-long aquarium. With her hair dyed a purplish red, Eloise was nearly as bright as the fish with their streaks of neon blue, yellow and mottled green. She had named her fishy friends and made up fishy stories about their lives.

“Sorry about my dad,” Jayne said.

“You don’t need to apologize. Meeting Peter the Great is a big deal for me. If I’d known he was going to be here, I would have brought a used plane ticket for him to autograph.”

“He’s not in the airport business anymore.” But he probably flew one of his private planes up here from Dallas. “Maybe he could autograph a used oil can.”

“You know, Jayne, I never ever pry, but my fish are totally nosy. Hedda—the black one with yellow stripes—wants to know about your cute male friend with the glasses and ponytail.”

“A journalist, he’s doing a story on neurosurgery.”

Eloise hiked up her eyebrows in an expression of disbelief. “And why was he answering your cell phone at seven-thirty in the morning?”

“We met for breakfast.” That was somewhat true. Dylan had insisted that she have a bagel and a couple of bites of bacon from his room-service order.

“Is he going to be hanging around all day?”

“For as long as I am.” She went to Eloise’s desk and jotted a note. If she moved fast, Jayne might be able to escape without confronting her father again. Though she shouldn’t leave the office without Dylan, she felt safe in the hospital. There were guards at the doors; nobody entered without passing through a metal scanner.

“I like older men,” Eloise said. “Is your father married?”

“Not at the moment.” She slid the note across the desktop. “Would you mind returning these calls for me? Especially to Mrs. Cameron, she needs to be reassured about her husband’s surgery. I’m going to slip out so I can review the most recent charts and blood work for Dr. Cameron.”

Her dad’s voice thundered through the closed door and down the hallway. “How dare that cheesy detective accuse me? I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

If Eloise’s eyebrows went any higher they would disappear behind a swirl of colorful hair. “Detective?”

“I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Eloise grasped her arm. “Jayne, what’s going on?”

“Don’t tell anybody.”

“Of course not.”

But the story would get out. There was no chance of keeping this juicy secret. It’d go viral. She knew from experience that the hospital was a swarming petri dish of gossip. “Somebody tried to break into my house last night and kidnap me. The DPD detective thinks it might be related to my dad. The guy with the ponytail and glasses is my bodyguard.”

One of the other doors leading to the reception room swung open and the short, skinny Dr. Bob, the oncologist, popped his head out. He was a worse gossip than Eloise. “No joke?” He gaped. “You were almost kidnapped? Why?”

Eloise pointed down the hall toward Jayne’s office. “Rich father. Peter the Great.”

“Wow,” Jayne said glumly. “You put it together quicker than the police investigator.”

“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist,” Eloise said. “There’s only one reason to be kidnapped—ransom. And your dad’s loaded.”

The door to her office flung open. Her dad and Dylan spilled into the reception area. Her father did something she never would have expected: he hugged her. His big arms wrapped around her, and she was surrounded by the pine-forest scent of an aftershave that he’d worn since she was a girl.

“I could have lost you,” he whispered.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Dylan told me there were two of them, wearing ski masks and carrying stun guns. He said that you had to flee across a rooftop.”

All of Dylan’s description was true. She hadn’t realized how dramatic her escape sounded until her dad said it out loud. She added, “And I took the stun gun away from him.”

“My sweet little gal, you shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes. If it’s somebody I know...”

He shook his fist. His pupils were so dilated that his blue iris was reduced to a slender rim. Either he was in an elevated emotional state or he’d been taking advantage of Colorado’s legalized marijuana. She assumed the former. Her dad didn’t do pot.

He concluded, “You can be damn sure I’ll find out who’s responsible. And I will make them pay.”

Over her father’s shoulder, Jayne saw the shocked faces of Eloise and Dr. Bob. Their eyes bulged. Their jaws gaped. The patients waiting in the reception area had dropped their magazines and were watching. She gave her father one last squeeze and stepped away from his embrace.

There was moisture at the corner of her left eye that she refused to believe was a tear. Jayne cleared her throat. “I appreciate anything you can do to help the investigation.”

“I’ll talk to my friend Razzy.” She doubted any of the other people in the room would be aware that her dad was referring to Rashid bin Calipha, one of the richest men in the world and the leader of a sheikdom. “There have been occasions when your good old Uncle Razzy might have used this Koslov character.”