The Scribe by Elizabeth Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

think there is some aspect of your safety in jeopardy. I’m not a stalker; I’m a guard.”
    “Good.”
    “Is he helping?”
    “The doctor?”
    “Yes.”
    Her head bobbed back and forth, considering the question. “Maybe. I try not to get my hopes up, you know? I’ve lived with the headaches my whole life.”
    Malachi knew all about not getting his hopes up. So why was he having a hard time believing Damien?
    “And there is no cure for them?”
    “Not that anyone has found. It’s not a tumor or anything. They’re a bit of a mystery.”
    As are you, woman. It wasn’t headaches. At least, that wasn’t all of it. He didn’t know exactly what was going on with the interesting American woman, but he was determined to find out.
    Malachi said, “It’s better to be cautious, even with doctors. If there is any background information you’d like on this doctor, let me know. I know many people in Istanbul. Maybe some of my friends or associates have gone to him.”
    From her expression, she didn’t like that idea. “I’ll keep it in mind. I’m fine for right now.”
    “I just wanted to offer.”
    “Noted.” She forced a smile. “But not necessary. I’m fine.”
    You are anything but fine.
    The tour boat was pulling into the dock, and passengers rose to their feet. Ava joined them without a word, leaving Malachi behind to watch her walk down the gangway. Wordlessly, he stood, then followed her at a comfortable distance as she grabbed a fish sandwich from one of the floating restaurants and walked back toward her hotel, lonely and silent in the afternoon crowd.

    Malachi strode into the house and straight to the library, not even stopping to rib Maxim about the bottle of beer the younger man was drinking in the kitchen. He’d left Ava exhausted. He was fairly sure she was done for the day, but the tiny tracker he’d slipped in her bag would alert him if she left the perimeter he’d set up around the grounds of the hotel. And if she was done for the day, then he had some questions for Rhys.
    “Sadik,” he said when he spied the shorter scribe sitting at his computer. “He’s the doctor she’s seeing. I saw it on the directory at the building we visited. J. Sadik. I need to know everything about him.”
    Rhys turned and frowned. “Had a great day, thanks. The air conditioner is fixed, and the activity logs have been updated and sent to Vienna. And I covered your patrol last night. How was the dinner cruise? Was there a show?”
    “No dinner. No show. It was hot but informative.” He paused and tried to slow his brain. “Thank you for covering my shift.”
    “Well, since you’re on babysitting duty for the mysterious human, we’re all more than happy to pitch in.” Not even Rhys’s polite accent could hide the sarcasm. Malachi knew the others thought he was following a rabbit trail, but he didn’t care.
    “Dr. J. Sa—”
    “Sadik.” Rhys turned back to the computer. “I heard you the first time. I’m just trying to force you into social niceties you seem to have forgotten living among the barbarians.” Rhys’s fingers began typing rapidly. The three-hundred-year— old scribe had taken to modern information technology like a duck to water. Not all Irin did. Damien still considered anything more advanced than a telegraph suspicious.
    “Thank you, Rhys.”
    “Don’t mention it. Really. What kind of doctor?”
    “I don’t know. She says she has headaches.”
    “Headaches?” he muttered. “That could by physical, psychological… You have no idea what kind of headaches?”
    “She wasn’t exactly forthcoming. She said he was a specialist she was referred to.”
    Rhys gave him a quiet “ hmph” and kept typing.
    “Where?”
    “He’s in the city. Just a few miles from here. She saw him last week after the attack in the alley.”
    More typing.
    “Sadik? You’re sure of it?”
    “Who is he? Yes, I’m sure.” Malachi leaned in, looking over the other man’s shoulder, but nothing