Free Covert M.D. by Jessica Andersen Page B

know who blew our cover?” She paused, and the implications surged through Rathe like guilt. Apparently his face reflected the emotion, because Nia nodded. “Right. Since theoretically only Wainwright and Boston General’s head administrator and the transplant directors know about us, there has to be a leak high up. What better way to investigate—or use—the leak than cozying up to the assistant director?”
    Nia’s plan was devious. It was Machiavellian. It was manipulative. It was…
    Exactly what Rathe would have suggested if he’d been thinking straight. Because she’d beaten him to it, he scowled. “Fine. But I’ll be right behind you on your date tonight.” He held up a hand to forestall her protest. “HFH policy, remember? Nobody goes Lone Ranger.”
    And with their cover blown and a murderer on the loose, he’d be sticking to her like a Band-Aid.
    Rather than argue, she nodded, and he saw a flash of something in her eyes. Fear, perhaps, or regret. “Fine. But don’t let him see you.”
    She turned away, but he caught her arm before she could leave. “Nia.” He damned himself for needing to know, for breaking his own rule and getting personal. “What did Talbot mean about your father? When you called me back then, you said he’d had a heart attack.”
    Her eyes dimmed with old hurt. “The heart attack was a complication from kidney failure and a transplant.” She lifted her chin. “Which you would have known if you hadn’t hung up on me.”
    He wanted to turn away, wanted to run away. But he couldn’t. She deserved better. She deserved the truth. “I couldn’t come back, Nia. I promised him I wouldn’t.”
    “I know. He told me.” She dropped her voice but didn’t look away from him. “That’s what I didn’t get to tell you—he forgave you. He forgave both of us. He wanted you to come back so he could tell you that before he died.”
    This time Rathe did turn away. He stared out thesheer glass window, down at the small cars six stories below. He’d known Tony had forgiven him in the end. Somehow he’d known.
    Hell, Tony never could keep a grudge. But part of Rathe had needed the reason to stay away from her.
    He sighed. “It wouldn’t have been real, Nia. It wouldn’t have been right. I gave him my word that I’d never see you again.” Never touch her again, taste her again. Never send her another silly trinket from a faraway land. Never ask her to share his life, homeless, rootless, living out of a half-packed duffel and dodging bullets. Murderers.
    In the end he’d done her a favor. No woman needed to live his life. No woman should end up like Maria had.
    Her voice was quiet, the hurt unmistakable. “Well, you kept that promise. I hope it keeps you warm at night, knowing that even though you refused to see him, my father died with your name on his lips.” She turned, her shoulders set, and walked away without looking back.
    After a moment Rathe followed.
     
    UNWANTED TEARS clouding her vision, Nia slipped into the ladies’ room, knowing it was one of the few places she could escape her partner’s watchful gaze. There was a small alcove with a changing station and a single plastic chair. She sank into the chair, leaned her head against the cool wall and closed her eyes.
    She’d known all along that her father had chased Rathe off—but nobody chased Rathe unless he was ready to run. At the time she’d been furious with her father, but even back then, when the hurt was fresh and new, she’d understood his reasoning. Her dad’s experiences in the Army had marked him, made him fearful, and he’d wanted better for his little girl.
    She hadn’t agreed, but she’d understood. In the end, before he died, he’d understood, too, and he’d given her his blessing to do what she wanted to do with her life. What she needed to do. Because of that, and because she’d loved him so, she’d wanted to give her father one last gift before he died.
    She’d wanted to give him his