Person of Interest by Debra Webb Read Free Book Online

highlighted the warm, sand-colored walls were a definite step up from the norm but the basic layout was the same.
    Agent Dawson stepped into the hall from one of the examination rooms lining the elegant corridor. “The team is ready when you are, Dr. Cameron.”
    “Thank you, Agent Dawson.” Elizabeth didn’t bother dredging up a perfunctory smile. He knew she didn’t like this. She sensed that he didn’t either. But they both had a duty to do. An obligation to do their part to keep the world as safe as possible. She had to remember that.
    The prep room was quiet and deserted and she was glad. She wanted to do this without exchanging any sort of chitchat with those involved, most especially the patient.
    As she unbuttoned and dragged off her blouse in one of the private dressing rooms, glimpses of those no-longer-welcome flickers of memory filtered through her mind once more. The last time she’d undressed for David. The last time they’d kissed or made love.
    So long ago. Months. Far more than the two he’d been dead.
    Her fingers drifted down to her waist and she unzipped her slacks, stepped out of her flats and tugged them off. The question that had haunted her for months before David had died, nagged at her now.
    Had he found someone else?
    Was that the reason for the tension she’d felt in him the past few times they were together?
    Would she ever know how he’d died? Heart attack? Didn’t seem feasible considering his excellent health, but healthy men dropped dead all the time. Or had he been killed in the line of duty?
    She shook off the memories, forced them back into that little rarely visited compartment where they belonged. She did not want to think about David anymore, didn’t want to deconstruct and analyze over and over those final months they had spent together.
    None of it mattered now.
    After slipping on sterile scrubs, cap and shoe covers and then washing up, she headed to the O.R. where the team would be waiting.
    More of those polite and pleasant good-mornings were tossed her way as she entered the well-lit, shiny operating room. One quick sweep told her that the equipment was cutting edge. Nothing but the best.But then it was always that way. The CIA would choose nothing less for their most important assets.
    “He refused to allow us to prepare him for anesthesia until you arrived, Doctor,” the anesthesiologist remarked, what she could see of his expression behind the mask reflecting impatience.
    “Hey, Doc.”
    The insolent voice dragged Elizabeth’s gaze to the patient. “Good morning, Agent Hennessey.” As she spoke, a nurse moved up next to Elizabeth and assisted with sliding her hands into a pair of surgical gloves.
    “I think this crew is ready for me to go night-night,” Hennessey said in that same flirtatious, roguish tone. “But I wanted to have a final word with you first.”
    With her mask in place, Elizabeth moved over to the table where Agent Hennessey lay, nude, save for the paper surgical gown and blanket. She frowned as she considered that even now he didn’t look vulnerable. This was a moment in a person’s life when they generally appeared acutely helpless. But not this man. No, she decided, he possessed far too much ego to feel remotely vulnerable even now as he lay prepared for an elective surgical procedure that could, if any one of a hundred or more things went wrong, kill him.
    Those unrepentant blue eyes gleamed as he stared up at her. “Any chance I could have a moment alone with you?” he asked quietly before glancing around at the four other scrub-clad members of her team.
    Elizabeth nodded to the anesthesiologist. He, as well as the two physicians and the nurse, stepped to the far side of the room.
    “What is it you’d like to say, Agent Hennessey?” she asked, her own impatience making an appearance.
    “Look, Doc—” he raised up enough to brace on his elbows “—I know you didn’t really want to do this.” His eyes searched hers a moment.