“The very fact you even used the term tactical gear tells me you’re spending way too much time with Isobel and she is starting to rub off on you,” Liberty said with a smile.
“You two are sort of cut from the same cloth,” expressed Daisy. “You’re both kick-butt. Me? Not so much. What do I bring to the mix? Nothing useful. I’m the fodder in a horror movie. The woman you feel a little bad for when she ends up being slaughtered by the killer, but you can’t actually remember her name or anything about her later. I’m that. Disposable.”
“Hey, not true,” Liberty protested.
“Name one thing I offer that’s been of use for us so far,” dared Daisy.
“Your intuition has guided us more times than I can count. I don’t know how you do it but I’m thankful for it. And you talk Isobel and me out of a lot of stupid things. That takes skill. You’ve seen what we can get into when left on our own. And we both know how quick Isobel is to dig her feet in on something.”
“Oh, she’s horrible,” Daisy said with a laugh. “You’re at least a reformed bad girl. Isobel does her best to add to her rather colorful arrest record. You know, the one that magikally vanishes every so often, only to return with nothing of significance listed on it? I especially enjoyed the time she changed the system to report she was wanted for being awesome. I’m sure the police department really appreciated needing to comb through their computer network to find all the new things she added.”
“It could have been worse,” said Liberty. “Remember the time she used her hacking skills and nearly started a world war?”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Yes. Let’s not bring that up with her. I don’t want to give her any ideas for how to spend her weekend.”
Liberty grinned. “Good thinking.”
Chapter Five
PSI Division B Headquarters, location classified…
Rurik set his sights on the physical therapist, who he strongly suspected moonlighted as a torture expert, as she gave him yet another set of directives to follow. She’d already spent the greater part of their current morning session putting him through his paces, forcing him to work muscles he didn’t want to be working.
And the woman never tired.
She was terminally peppy.
It was downright irritating.
He sent a scathing look in her direction.
She smiled wider.
Americans had a weird thing with smiling at strangers. It always made them look touched in the head. When he’d first relocated to America, he’d been taken aback by the number of people who smiled at him in public for seemingly no reason. At first, he assumed they were all deranged. Took some doing, but he finally got used to it—somewhat.
Kind of.
He continued to stare at the woman before him like his first assessment of her being touched in the head wasn’t far off the mark.
The therapist reached out and touched the tip of his nose, giving it a quick tap. “Aww, adorable.”
He growled, narrowing his gaze on her.
Usually, when he glowered at people, they backed down, giving him ample space. They didn’t call him adorable. And no one tapped him on his nose.
Ever.
Not if they wanted to keep their finger.
She eased closer and he fought the urge to recoil.
The woman was clearly insane. It’s like she wanted him in a pissy mood or to totally and completely bear out.
“You can do it,” she said, clapping for him, still closer than he liked. She didn’t look to be out of her early twenties, and he had to wonder if she was taking a mood enhancer because he’d never known anyone in his life to be that happy all the time.
She did an upper body shimmy movement that drew attention to her chest.
Under normal circumstances, he’d have found her attractive. Her excessive cheer took from that. The last thing on his mind was getting laid. Even if he were in the mood, there was something about her that left him easing back to avoid making too much contact.
When he’d first seen her this morning, she’d been nursing a bloody nose. He’d offered to take her to find one of the many doctors on staff, but she’d insisted she’d only just come from one. That everything was fine.
Rurik had let her make her own decision, like he wished someone would do for him. He was sick and fucking tired of being told what to do.
The perky blonde clicked her fingers in front of Rurik’s face, pulling his attention back to her. “Focus, stud. All right. Give me three more reps with that hand and then we’ll move to working the other. Are you excited? I’m excited.”
“You don’t say,” he bit out in something close to a snarl before realizing she’d called him a stud.
She clapped again. “Yay! You’re doing it.”
That was it. If he didn’t get the hell out of the medical facility and far from everyone and their “help,” he was going to lose his shit. He’d be the next operative locked in his animal form and tucked away in a cell in the lower levels of a PSI facility.
He paused his hand reps and contemplated surrendering himself to his bear side fully. It wouldn’t be that hard considering his lack of control as of late. For the past few nights, he’d been waking in a cold sweat with his hands partially shifted. This morning, he’d also found he’d shredded the bed at some point during his sleep.
“Come on, you have to build the strength back in your hands,” said the physical therapist, giving him an encouraging nod as the overhead light created something of a halo effect around her head, making her look angelic.
The irony of the devil being bathed in angelic lighting was not lost on him.
He just wanted to work out on his own, heal by himself. He didn’t require her help, or anyone
