Covert M.D. by Jessica Andersen Read Free Book Online Page A

of the outdoors, leaving the dimly lit area empty. “Bloody hell,” he said aloud and reached for the door.
    The attack hit him from behind. A man grabbed him and shoved him into the wall. Hard.
    Rathe reacted instantly, jabbing an elbow back and twining his foot around the other man’s ankle, but his assailant was taller and light on his feet. The bigger man spun away. His elbow cracked against Rathe’s jaw. Rathe’s head whipped to the side, and he swung out blindly, felt a spurt of satisfaction when he connected and heard a grunt of pain.
    He yanked off his ball cap for better visibility and sent his fist into the gaunt, gray face of his attacker. Dimly he recognized Cadaver Man from Nia’s description, and the realization that the bastard could have hurt her lent fury to his blows.
    He wound up for the knockout when the cell phone hidden inside his coveralls rang. The noise distracted him for only an instant, but it was long enough for the gray, corpselike man to slip inside his guard and punch him in the gut. Rathe doubled over, then dropped to the floor, rolling away in case there was a follow-up kick. But there wasn’t. The tall man stared down at him for a heartbeat, a disconcerting lack of expression on his face.
    After five rings, the cell phone fell silent.
    “Go away, Dr. McKay,” Cadaver Man said in an unexpectedly soft voice laced with the cadences of northern Maine, “and call off Nia French. Or else.”
    And he shouldered his way through the door and out into the bustling streets of Chinatown.
    Rathe lurched to his feet, thinking to give chase even though he knew it was no use. Then the cell phone rang again, and a name leaped to lightning-sharp focus in his mind. Nia!
    The bastard knew their names and their purpose. What if he’d already gotten to her?
    He slapped the phone open. “Nia? Are you okay?”
    “McKay. What the hell are you doing?” The booming voice on the other end of the line was familiar, though it certainly wasn’t Nia.
    “Jack,” Rathe held the phone to his ear and jogged back the way he’d come. “I’m glad it’s you. We have a problem.”
    The elevator was slow in coming and he waited impatiently, telling himself she was fine. She was in her office. Safe. This was Boston, not Tehru, damn it.
    Wainwright’s voice was sharp. “You’re damn right we have a problem. Nia French says you told her to quit.”
    Rathe stepped into the elevator and stabbed a button. Forced himself to breathe evenly. She was fine. He was overreacting. He wasn’t going to let this happen again. “Yes, I did. There’s something going on in this hospital. Something bad. I want her out of here before she gets herself hurt.”
    “You’re ditching the assignment?”
    Rathe scowled into the phone. “Of course not. You know better than that, Jack. I’m staying, but I want Nia out of danger.” The service elevator let him off in the lobby, and he transferred to one of the brushed-steel lifts that would carry him up to the Transplant Department.
    Wainwright’s grumble vibrated on the airwaves. “It’s her job to be in danger, McKay. Remember?”
    “Doesn’t matter,” Rathe retorted. “She quit.”
    “No. She didn’t quit. She phoned me and threatened to sue both our asses for sexual discrimination.”
    “She did what? ” Rathe ignored the curious stares of the two white-coated researchers sharing the car with him. He supposed the image was incongruous—a rumpled janitor shouting into a phone boasting technology that hadn’t yet transitioned from the military to the public.
    “You heard me.” Wainwright’s voice dropped to a threatening hiss. “Fix this, McKay. I don’t care how you do it, but fix this. She’s one of the best young M.D.s I’ve got. I will not lose her, do you understand?”
    The doors slid open and Rathe stepped out of the car. He glanced around to make sure he was alone, thenlowered his voice and grated, “She’ll be lost for good if you don’t pull her off