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HANNAH Page 8
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I stared at him until he gave in.
“Okay, something’s definitely up, but we’ll talk to them tonight, okay? We don’t need to drive ourselves crazy right now.”
I snapped my compact shut. “Crazy. That’s the perfect word choice.”
Wes put his hand over mine. “Having a panic attack doesn’t make you crazy. With everything that’s happened, it’d be crazier if you didn’t have one.”
“You haven’t had one.”
“I was unconscious while you were kidnapped. Trust me, I would’ve had a panic attack if I’d known, if not worse.”
I twisted my ponytail, nervous about seeing Dr. Fisher. The driver pulled up alongside the curb in front of her practice, and I frowned. “She’s going to say ‘I told you so.’ I know it.”
“Why?” Wes asked.
“Never mind.” I shook my head. “I’m just babbling.”
Wes looked like he wanted to ask more, but he bit his questions back as we went inside to wait. When the nurse came out to the waiting room, she said, “Dr. Fisher is ready for you. She’d like to speak with both of you, actually.”
Wes didn’t look at me, probably knowing I’d object. We followed the nurse into an exam room, and Dr. Fisher came in a moment later. She introduced herself to Wesley and then turned to me. “I read the report in your file—I’m sorry you went through that. The good news is, your labs came back normal. That’s great.”
“Good.” In the back of my overactive-imagination-prone mind, I’d been worried I had some rare form of cancer that manifested itself in panic attacks.
She began examining me, listening to my heart and taking my blood pressure as Wes watched carefully.
“What’s her blood pressure?” he asked.
Dr. Fisher smiled. “One-ten over sixty. It’s perfect.”
“Good.” Wes sounded relieved. He seemed to know a lot more about medicine than I did, even though I devoutly watched Grey’s Anatomy and had previously believed that qualified me as somewhat of an expert.
“Does everything look okay?” he asked Dr. Fisher once she’d finished checking my pulse and staring into my eyes with an annoying light.
She smiled again—apparently, she liked Wes and his never-ending list of medical questions. “Her vitals are completely normal.”
Wes grinned. “That’s a relief.”
Dr. Fisher wrote down some notes. When she turned around, she said, “Why don’t you both come to my office? I have some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
I stiffened. “Um, no offense, Dr. Fisher, but isn’t having Wesley in my appointment a HIPAA violation?”
“You recently listed him as your emergency contact,” she reminded me.
She was getting on my nerves again. “Is this an emergency?”
“Not yet. But what happened to you last night qualifies as one.” She gave me a long look. “Would you agree to grant him permission to join us?”
I glanced at Wes. “I guess so.”
After Dr. Fisher left, I stood and grabbed my things, waiting for Wesley to excuse himself from my appointment. When he didn’t, I put my hands on my hips. “Why are you in here?”
He looked down at his shoes. “I…called the doctor this morning. And asked if we could both meet with her.”
“Wes. Look at me.”
He looked up, but his expression wasn’t as guilty as I’d hoped.
“I’m worried about you, and since you’re not sharing details, I thought it would be a good idea if I met with Dr. Fisher.” His chin was set stubbornly. “I need to hear what she has to say about this—if you need help, I want to give it to you.”
“That’s sweet, but you don’t have the right—”
“I’m asking you for the right. Begging, actually.” He came over and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m not trying to get all in your business or be controlling. I just want you to be safe.”
He kissed the top of my head, and I groaned. I didn’t want him here, but I felt good in his arms—safe, secure, and utterly protected. I wanted to argue with him, but I felt too loved.
It was official: I was getting spoiled, all soft and spongy because he kept taking care of me and being all hot, sexy, and protective.
Where’s my damned checklist?
“Fine. But I think you should have asked my permission before you crashed my appointment.”
“Would you have let me come?”
“No,” I admitted.
“If it gets too personal and you want me to leave, I promise I will. But if she wants to talk about precautions we can take to prevent anxiety and panic attacks, and things we need to look out for, I want to be part of the conversation. Do I have permission for that?”
He leaned down and kissed me, and I had that feeling again. Safe. Warm. Worshipped. I should be pushing him away right now, punishing him for overstepping boundaries, but I just wanted to pull him closer. Grr.
“Okay. But let’s get this over with.”
* * *
WES
Hannah wouldn’t look at me as the driver took us across town to my appointment at El Camino.
I put my hand gently over hers. “Going to couples’ therapy is not the end of the world, you know.”
“Maybe not, but the fact that Lauren called Dr. Fisher and asked her to refer us to a therapist? That might be the end of the world.” Hannah shook her head. “Just wait till I get my hands on her.”
“She’s worried about you—she’s just trying to help.” I remembered Lauren’s words again from this morning and my stomach turned, but I ignored it.
“Butting in on my business—our business—is not helping.”
“Hannah?” I waited until she turned to me. “I told Lauren it was okay. She asked me if I thought it was a good idea this morning. I said I didn’t know, but that if it would help, we should try.”
“I’m tired of you all ganging up on me.” She tilted her chin, looking extremely annoyed. “I’m fine. I feel like I should just get a T-shirt that says that, so you’ll all leave me be.” She shook her head and went back to staring out the window.
I had a strong sense of déjà vu when, twenty minutes later, Dr. Kim’s nurse asked Hannah to join my appointment. Hannah looked pleased as she settled herself onto a chair in the examination room, watching as the nurse asked me routine questions and took my vitals.
When she’d finished doing intake, the nurse grabbed her laptop and headed for the door. “Dr. Kim will be in in just a minute.”
“I didn’t call him,” Hannah said as soon as we were alone.
I grimaced. “Maybe your sister did.”
That made her smile. “Maybe.”
Dr. Kim came in. “Hello, Hannah.” His face split into a grin when he saw me. “Good morning. Wesley, you look good!”
“Thank you, Dr. Kim. I’ve been working hard.”
Dr. Kim flipped through my file, reviewing some notes. “That’s what your physical therapist says.”
“She’s tough. Did she actually say something nice about me? Because I thought she might be trying to kill me.”
“She said you’re handling therapy well.” He laughed, then did a quick inventory of the room. “No wheelchair today?”
I looked at Hannah and quickly turned away. “I haven’t been using it for the past couple of days. I don’t think I need it anymore.”
Dr. Kim folded his long, lean runner’s body down to sit on a rolling stool. He tapped his chin with his pen, considering me. “Did your physical therapist tell you it was okay to go without the wheelchair?”
I could feel Hannah staring at me. “Not exactly.”
“Did the cardiologist clear you to walk?”
I scratched my head.
“Your orthopedic doctor?”
I coughed.
Dr. Kim tapped his pen. “So, you just decided to take matters into your own hands?”
“It was time. I felt strong enough, and I haven’t had any issues. Have I, honey?”
r /> Hannah scowled at me, her arms crossed against her chest.
Dr. Kim turned to her. “Has he been getting around okay, Hannah?”
“He’s doing better than I expected,” she admitted.
“Well, let’s run some tests,” Dr. Kim said. “If everything checks out cognitively, you might very well graduate today.”
“Graduate to what?” I sounded hopeful to my own ears.
Dr. Kim held up his hand. “I’m not making any promises. Let’s see how you’re doing first.”
“I’m ready to go back to work,” I insisted as Dr. Kim came toward me with his annoying light to shine in my eyes.
“Listen to the doctor,” Hannah insisted.
Right before the light got shoved into my eyes, I looked at her. “Only if you listen to yours.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“Fine.” But if Dr. Kim said no work, I wasn’t going to be fine. Not for much longer. The icing on the cake was Hannah’s panic attack last night, followed by Jim Pace’s funeral this morning.
I was done with the waiting.
Chapter 13
Wes
“Are you really going to look for a new place?” Gabe motioned to the patio we were sitting at, his glorious lawn stretching out all around us. “All this isn’t enough for you?”
I chuckled. “I love it here—but now that Ellis is back, I want him to have my house. I hope it’s okay if I stay until then.”
“We want you here. It’s safer, and quite frankly, you’re much nicer to have around than Levi. You can stay forever, as far as we’re concerned.”
“Thanks, buddy. That means a lot.”
His kind words didn’t stop me from wincing at the thought of being separated from Hannah, or from frowning at my dinner. I pushed the tofu around with my fork.
“What’s the matter, bean curd doesn’t excite you?” Gabe joked.
“Do we ever get to eat meat again?” I kept my voice low, hoping Lauren and Hannah couldn’t hear me from the kitchen.
Gabe speared a pale rectangle of tofu and inspected it. “Let’s go to the steakhouse Friday night. I’ll ask my brothers to come—ask Ellis, too. Guys’ night.”
“I am so in.”
Lauren and Hannah came out to the patio. I forced myself to smile and simultaneously willed my stomach to hold down the slimy tofu. Jesus, do people actually think this is good?
Hannah patted my hand. “You’re such a good sport with your vegan meal, honey.”
I coughed. “It’s good. Really good.”
Gabe started laughing, and Lauren rolled her eyes at him. “Remember when we started dating? You stopped eating red meat to be supportive.”
“I was trying to get you into my bed.” He reached out and put his hand possessively over hers. “Now we’re engaged, babe. We’re in for better or for worse territory.” He held up an offending piece of tofu. “This is the ‘worse’ part. The steak is the ‘better’ part—better because I get to eat it again, and you can’t run away from me, because you’d have to take me to court.”
Lauren giggled. I’d worked for her for two years, and I’d never heard her laugh before she met Gabe.
Then her phone buzzed, and she jumped up. “It’s Leo—I need to take this.”
Lauren spoke to him for only a minute, but when she hung up, she looked pale. “Li Na hacked into our system again just now. I have to get to the lab.”
“Is this what you weren’t telling me at Jim’s service—she’s been in the server again?” Hannah glared.
“I thought you were dealing with enough for one morning.” Lauren grabbed her plate, and Gabe and Hannah both got up to follow her. “No—you two stay here. Depending on what the damage is, I might need you both tomorrow for a planning session. I’ll find out what she’s up to, and then we’ll take action. Okay?”
Gabe and Hannah both frowned, and Lauren frowned right back, not bothering to coddle them. “I won’t be long.” She left before they could argue further.
Gabe looked as if he’d like to smash something. “I don’t know what the hell Li Na’s doing now.”
“I don’t, either,” Hannah said. “Lauren and I were just talking about it—what could she be after? She knows Lauren won’t sell. She’s already seen most of the proprietary information.”
“And she’s busy terrorizing Fiona Pace into selling her company,” I finished. I cringed, thinking of how frail Fiona had looked at the service this morning, how devastated she was about her husband.
Hannah looked to Gabe. “Lauren said you have a theory about Li Na and what she’s after. I don’t understand how she could do these things—have people kidnapped and murdered—just for money.”
Gabe scrubbed a hand across his face. “It’s not just for the money. Money would be too easy, and Li Na already has plenty of it.”
“So why is she doing these terrible things? To get ahead?”
Gabe shoved his plate away. “It’s along those lines, but it’s more complicated. Have you had any experience dealing with Chinese business partners before?”
“No,” Hannah said. “Paragon hasn’t really started a comprehensive marketing campaign there yet.”
Gabe leaned toward me. “Wes? You have some expertise, don’t you?”
“My military foreign-relations background focused on China.” I shrugged. “Ellis and I have both been there several times on assignment, so I know something about the culture.”
Hannah’s jaw dropped. “You don’t tell me anything.”
“It never came up.” I nudged her, then focused back on Gabe. “What were you saying?”
“My theory on Li Na is that she’s after ‘face’—it’s a Chinese sociological concept. In Chinese business, ‘face’ is extremely important. It’s your social and business standing, your social currency, your level of respect, honor, and worth. Respect is crucial in corporate China.”
I put down the offensive tofu, giving up on dinner. “And Li Na insists she has her government’s backing, correct?”
“That’s right.” Gabe nodded. “She’s said repeatedly that she’s helping to invigorate the city of Shenzhen and that her country would never extradite her.”
Hannah leaned forward. “Tell me more about ‘face’—I want to understand exactly what it means.”
“This requires reinforcements.” Gabe went and grabbed three beers from the fridge. Hannah scowled as I opened mine.
“I’m cleared for everything except work,” I reminded her, and winked.
Her face reddened.
Gabe wrapped his fingers tightly around his beer. “When we were looking for ammunition against her, before the closing, I dug a little deeper into Jiàn Innovations. I realized that Li Na’s been making promises for some time about the great things her company’s going to do, and all the prestige they’re going to bring to Shenzhen. To date, she’s failed to follow through. She couldn’t get the patch, and Jiàn’s market reach hasn’t grown much outside of China.”
I took a sip of beer. “She’s getting desperate.”
Gabe looked thoughtful. “Seems like it. She didn’t even try to bargain with Fiona Pace—she just went straight to murder.”
Hannah put her face in her hands, and I wrapped my arm around her. “It’s okay.”
“Sorry,” Gabe said.
“You two don’t have to apologize. Li Na’s the one with blood on her hands.” She peered out from above her fingers. “We need to go after her. I know you don’t want to kill her, but I don’t see how we can extricate ourselves from this situation without making her go away permanently.”
“I agree,” I said. “We need to get rid of her. I’m sure Hannah doesn’t want to hear this right now, but Ellis and I both have the military training perfect for a situation like this.”
“Wes, no.”
I rubbed her back. “What you said is true—she needs to be dealt with, once and for all.”
“We’re not risking you and Ellis,” Gabe said. “We have to
figure something else out.”
“But while we put it through a committee and try to be ethical and conscientious, Fiona and her girls are grieving the loss of a good man. It’s not right.” Hannah took a sip of beer. “Li Na needs to be dealt with—I’m done being afraid all the time. Screw ethical and conscientious.”
“What are you proposing?” Gabe asked.
“Nothing that involves Wesley or Ellis, that’s for sure.”
I put my hand on hers. “Baby—”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” she barked. “You almost died this year. That’s enough risk for me for one lifetime, thank you. We’re moving forward. Not dying.”
“What are we going to do if we don’t go after her?” I asked.
Hannah rubbed her temples. “Let me think about it.”
* * *
HANNAH
Wesley had insisted on walking four miles on the treadmill before we went to bed. I sat and watched, a wreck, as sweat poured off him.
“This is frickin’ humiliating,” he said, wiping himself down with a towel and breathing hard.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” I followed him back upstairs when he’d finished. “And you don’t have to push yourself so hard.”
“I’m not interested in continuing my career as an invalid, thank you very much. I’ve done my time.”
“You just walked four miles, and you haven’t used your wheelchair all week.” I tugged on his arm. “You’re not an invalid, and there’s nothing wrong with taking the time to heal!”
He grunted, heading for the bathroom.
I paced our room, waiting for him to get out of the shower. Lauren texted me, saying things were under control at Paragon. She promised to be home early. We needed to discuss strategy tomorrow—about how to deal with Li Na going forward.
But I didn’t want to just “deal” with Li Na. I longed to see her face-to-face so I could punch her. I was pretty good in my cardio-kickboxing class—I yearned to land a nice, hard kick to her face, to do some damage to those high cheekbones of hers.