His Treasure: Chapter 11: Lamb to the slaughter.

"Sometimes I wish I was a man," she said bitterly. "Then I can be as strong as you, or stronger. I would strangle you with my own hands."

He moved swiftly. His right hand covered her neck as he pushed her against the wall near the foot of his cot.

"You were foolish in coming today. And very foolish in telling the guard to give you space."

He leaned into her, pressing his lower body on her. He increased the pressure on her throat. She shuddered and he felt the unmistakable stirring of sexual excitement in his loins. 

"Little rabbit," he said, his eyes boring into her. "Why would you come into the den of the fox all by yourself? Hmm?" He pressed himself on her, grinding slowly so she could feel his arousal on her belly. 

Her mouth parted in a sharp gasp before she squeezed her eyes shut, her entire frame trembling against him. He bent his head, catching the scent of wild cinnamon on her skin. Zavier inhaled it deeply, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest. "Interesting," he muttered.

He brushed his thumb over her parted lips. Her eyes flew open. He looked into them, reading the raw weakness in her gaze. "Unless you want something from me."

 __________

Three days earlier

Kisses

"Muah!" 

Giggling. "Eight more days."

Ryan smiled. "Yeah, eight more and I get to hold you," he said.

"Thank you for your morning message. You've been consistent so far," Sudanie said, while getting dressed. Her phone lay on the bed.

"I told you I would do it," Ryan said. "I want to be very intentional about you. I love you."

She picked up the phone, placed her mouth near the speaker and sent him cute kisses over the line. 

Ryan felt his chest tighten. "You're special to me," he said.

"I love you too," she replied. She buckled her service belt and put her gun in its holster. "There's something I want you to do as soon as you see me."

"Oh? What's that?" He smiled, his voice warm. 

"I want you to lift me in your arms, but not like how you'd carry a bride. I want you to lift me up with my legs wrapped around you."

Ryan chuckled softly. "Okay, not a problem. But that means my hands will be on your thighs. In the past, you were uncomfortable with me touching you there."

Sudie cleared her throat. "Yeah, you're right," she said. "I just ..."

"You just what?" Ryan asked, his voice dipping a fraction. "Did something happen?"

Sudie sat on her bed. "Did I tell you that Jordan is back?"

Ryan sobered. "No, you didn't tell me," he answered.

"I was basically the chauffeur," Sudie said. "I went with Lissa to pick him up at the airport and dropped them off." She took a breath and sighed.

 Ryan's brow furrowed as he listened. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"When they got to the apartment, Lissa jumped on Jordan's back while he pulled his suitcases. I saw that and realized that I've never really asked you to hold me like that." There was a pause. 

"Baby?" Ryan queried.

She released a quiet breath. "It made me realize just how much I have been missing out on. I want to be lifted like that or have the privilege of wrapping my legs around your waist."

"You want me to lift you in my arms and wrap those long, sexy legs around me?" he asked, feeling a sudden spark of heat. 

"Yeah, I guess I do," she said.

"I can do that, but it may lead to other things," he said, biting his bottom lip.

"Like?" she asked.

"Like me pressing you up against a wall and tracing my fingers underneath your skirt to touch your sweetness," he said, his voice raspy.

"Suppose I'm wearing shorts or jeans?" she asked cheekily.

Ryan released a little laugh. "I can work around that," he said confidently. "When I'm done with you, you'll want me to take those off," he whispered.

Sudanie bit her bottom lip as she smiled. "Okay, lover man," she said.

He chuckled and blew her a kiss. "Yours only," he replied.

A thought crossed his mind. "Sue."

"Yes, baby?"

"You only need to ask. Anything you want from me, ask me," he said softly. "As for lifting you like that I want us to hold off a little. Not because I don't want to, but because lifting you like that may trigger something else between us."

She closed her eyes. "You mean sex?"

"Mhm, yeah. As it is, I'm barely holding on to my restraint. When I see you after these eight days I don't know what I will do. I do know I don't want to lose control, but..."

"I won't let you fall," she said.

"You can't promise that. We both want it," he said, releasing a ragged breath. "Those phone dates are evidence of how hot we make each other."

Sudanie smiled. "I know. But if you don't want to I won't push."

An exhaled breath. "Do you want to push?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do," she said, her heart rate suddenly spiking. "I want you really bad," she said, her tone husky. "Sometimes I get wet just thinking about you. I want you to make love to me, Rhy. But I won't force it."

She heard him release a breath. 

"Really?" he asked, his voice dipping low and gravelly. 

A sudden ache bloomed inside her just from the quality of his voice —soft, but a little rough on the edges of his tone. She crossed her legs. "Yes, baby, you do that to me."

Ryan bit his bottom lip. "Are you wet now?"

"A little," she answered shyly, opening her eyes to stare at the floor.

He sent her a tender kiss across the line. "Well, to let you know: something's happening down below too."

Sudie responded with a soft groan. "I miss you so much."

"I know, baby. I miss you too. It's like torture being away from you this long. I feel like I'm going crazy. God knows I want to, baby. I want to make slow, sweet, gentle love to you. Take my time, not rush anything. Just making sure I take care of you the right way.

"Sometimes I want to forget about our faith. Just grab you and lose control, but I'm not going to. Sue, I love you too much."

He paused, his voice shifting to something deeper, more sensual. "It's killing me, but I'm gonna wait. We have to meet each other's families and then see how we can plan. What do you think about a wedding early next year?"

Her fingers played with a sleeve of her shirt. "Sounds good." Her voice softened. "When do you have in mind?"

"Valentine's day in February or a date in March," he said.

She smiled. "I like it." 

He released a quick breath. Sudie realized he must have been holding it, waiting for her answer. 

"Good," he said, "I have something in mind. And I need to show you something. We also need to discuss where we're going to live: my apartment or your house."

"True," Sudie answered, eyebrows moving upwards. She hadn't thought about that yet.

Her eyes glimpsed the watch on her left wrist. "Baby, I gotta go, okay?"

"Okay, sweet lips," Ryan replied. "Think about me."

Sudanie gave a knowing chuckle. "That's very easy." A beat. "I love you, baby."

"I love you, darling." Ryan said, his tone full of affection. 

Sudanie shivered, trying not to make any embarrassing sounds over the line. She waited until he ended the call before taking a deep breath and letting it out. 'He makes me really horny,' she mused, a smile creeping up her lips. 'Such a sweet man.' 

Sudanie watched as gradually her phone's screen went dark. She never knew she would feel this way for any man, especially after Anthony. She was grateful. She stood up and walked into her living room. She grabbed her car keys from the coffee table and headed out the door.

Cleared

"Haaaahh!" 

"What? Is what?!" Johnie asked, rushing out of the kitchen into the living room, a spatula in her hand. Her expressive dark-brown eyes were blown wide with fright. 

"Daniel, what's wrong?" she asked, bewildered.

Daniel looked up from the 42 inch LED TV screen. He paused the game and looked at her—confused. He scratched his head. 

"What?" he asked, still scratching his head.

"Wasn't it you screaming like a banshee in here?" Jhonie asked, getting annoyed.

"Oh... " He gave her a sheepish grin. He dropped his hand to his lap. "I'm so sorry, Jo." He looked at his paused video game. "It's this game. I was this close to getting to the next level, but my life force got sucked out by these super powered Zombies."

Jhonie waved her hand with the spatula. "I don't want to hear it. You nearly gave me a heart attack." She took a quiet breath and exhaled slowly. 

"Sorry, Jo," he said, his smile grew lopsided.

She sucked her teeth. "Yeah, right," she muttered, and stalked back to the kitchen.

Within two minutes, she heard the game starting up again. She hissed her teeth and continued to fry her saltfish fritters.

Jhonie walked into the hospital with her stainless steel, 30 ounce tumbler in her hand. The knapsack on her back was brand new, a gift from her mother. Her older brother, Orlando, dropped her off after she gave her baby brother, Danny, a proper lecture on not giving his sister a heart attack. He just grinned and promised to be more considerate. 

Jhonie smiled at the nurses at their post, then walked into the staff room assigned to junior doctors. She sat before a computer console and logged into the hospital's system. She looked at her schedule. CLEARED in bold red letters stared back at her. 

Her mouth twisted into a frown and her brow creased into tiny lines. Her right hand firmly gripped around the strap of her bag. She had patients she needed to follow up on. 'I saw three (3) patients yesterday. What about those?' she asked herself.

Just then, Nurse Foster approached and tapped her shoulder. Jhonie looked up. "Dr Scofield wants to see you," she said. 

Jhonie's heart sank. "How do you know?" she asked, rubbing her palms on her jeans.

"Dr. Gough's been looking for you," Nurse Foster said.

'Why would they be looking for me so early? My shift starts at 10:30 today.'

Jhonie looked at her watch. It was 9:35 AM. "I'm early," she said, a sense of foreboding growing in her chest.

Nurse Foster shrugged her shoulders. "That's all I know, but Dr Gough says you should get in touch with her first before you do anything else." 

Jhonie's pulse kicked up even faster. She smiled nervously at her colleague. "Thanks Denise, I appreciate the info."

Nurse Foster nodded, a faint smile on her face. "Just making sure everything runs smoothly," she said. 

She touched Jhonie's shoulder. "Good luck." She went through the door, leaving Jhonie to wonder what she had walked into that day. Jhonie took out her mobile phone and sent a text to Dr Gough.

Jhonie: What's up, Meems? Nurse Foster said I should contact you.

She waited for a minute before a text came in. 

Mimi: Text me on WhatsApp.

Jhonie went into the social media app and opened a direct message to her colleague.

Jhonie: What's going on?

Three dots appeared. She saw 'typing' at the top of the screen. She waited. 

Mimi: This comes from the top. They want you to oversee his care from now on.

Jhonie frowned. She texted: Who's care?

Mimi: That criminal guy, Mr Z.

The phone nearly fell from Jhonie's hand. This can't be happening?

Jhonie: Says who? Who wants me?

Mimi: Hun, I don't know. Word is he went for the scan and it doesn't look good.

Jhonie's mouth went dry. 

Jhonie: So he's dying. How is that my problem?

Mimi: Didn't you express an interest in pursuing cardiology?

Jhonie: Yeah, I did, but it was only an expression of interest. I'm not even three years good into being a doctor.

Mimi: Just giving you a heads up, girl. Dr Scofield wants to talk to you. You should see him.

Jhonie: Will do. Thanks.

She exited their chat, and exhaled—her breathing unsteady.

"God, what is this?" she said quietly.

Jhonie walked out of the staff room and headed down the hall to the elevator. She stepped into the lift, her heart pounding wildly. She exited at the second floor and walked to the door with the words 'Consultant' in silver writing. Just above it, the number 10 was etched from similar material. She knocked on the door and heard the heavy dragging of a chair, and a low grunt. 

The door lock clicking open sounded more like a chain tightening around her neck. She tried to breathe as the door opened. 

Dr Scofield, a middle aged man with male pattern baldness, and thin, blue rimmed glasses, stared at her. He stepped back and gestured for her to step into the room. He returned to his chair and shuffled up to his desk. 

Jhonie stood, looking around her. 

He looked up at her, his eyes assessing her for a minute. "Have a seat, Dr Barnes," he said, his voice crisp, business-like, not the typical tone he used when he spoke to her. Her hands balled into fists.

Jhonie took a breath then sat down on one of the two chairs in the room. His eyes drifted down to the stack of files before him. She sat there quietly waiting for him to say something, but as she waited he resumed reading a patient's case before him. 

'What is this now?' Jhonie wondered.

She cleared her throat. He didn't look up. If this wasn't so nerve wracking she would have laughed. "Dr Scofield, you... you wanted to see me, sir?"

Finally, he lifted his head and stared at her. What she saw caused fear to grow in her gut. She clasped her hands together and waited.

"Thank you for seeing me on short notice, Dr Barnes," Dr Scofield said.

He reached his hand into a drawer on the right side of his desk and retrieved a file. He extended the document to her. She took it from him, a slight frown on her lips. She opened it. Her eyes widened with shock and disbelief.

The words 'Effective Immediately' were in large, bold letters, then the script below read: Primary care of patient Mr Zavier Anthony Sterling will be managed by Dr Jhonie Renee Barnes." 

She read further as the file broke down Mr Sterling symptoms: difficulty breathing, erratic heart rate, sudden dizzy spells, problems with balance, etc. It also noted the myocardial infarction experienced by the patient. 

She looked up at Dr Scofield, her eyes wide, mouth parted in shock. "Dr... Dr Scofield, I-I don't understand." She cleared her throat. "Mr Sterling has a serious health condition. I'm just a regular doctor. He needs a Cardiologist, not me."

"There's no one else, Dr Barnes, just you," Dr Scofield said.

"What do you mean?" Her heart was doing back flips in her chest. "What about Dr Scott? He has over ten years experience in that field."

"He's on leave," Scofield said calmly.

That sinking feeling was getting stronger.  Who else? Think Jhonie! Who else is there? She bit her bottom lip.

"Oh, what about Darby? Over fifteen years of experience. Ooh! Dr Brooks is good. He's been doing it for five solid years now. His skills have grown."

Dr Scofield shook his head. "Dr Darby's schedule is full."

"And Dr Brooks?" Jhonie asked, leaning forward. She hoped she would hear a positive response.

Dr Scofield closed the file in front of him. "Dr Barnes, you're it," he answered tersely.

She tilted her head to the left as she looked at him. Something fishy was going on. "Am I it because everyone is busy, or because no one wants to deal with this gangster?"

Scofield gaze hardened. "The decision has already been made," he said, his tone flat.

"And if I refuse?" she challenged. Her heart was pounding. She swore she could hear her pulse roaring in her ears.

"How much do you want to remain a doctor?" Scofield asked.

"What? What are you saying?!" Jhonie asked, fear tightening her chest..

"It is very important that this man..." Scofield cleared his throat. "This man, Sterling, must  survive long enough for a trial. Based on his condition, he may have a year before his heart gives up completely."

Jhonie's eyes flew wide open. She hated the bastard. She didn't want a bad heart to be his ticket out of this life, before he got what he deserved.

"But why would the courts need to take so long to call his case? We already know he's evil."

Dr Scofield's lips curled into a cold smile. "Evidence must be gathered, very solid evidence. The government doesn't want to risk him going free because of sloppy investigations and poor case management."

Jhonie leaned back in the chair. What have I gotten myself into? I only volunteered that first time because I wanted to look my father's killer in the eyes. But now, I want nothing to do with him. I don't want him to die before he faces judgement, but I don't want to help him either!

"With all due respect, sir,  I'm just a regular MD, and not a very experienced one," Jhonie said.

"You're young, but you're brilliant," Dr Scofield countered.

Jhonie nearly scoffed at that, but she remembered the man before her signed her performance review forms. The fingers of her left hand moved to press into her forehead. 

"In the memory of my dad who was your Consultant, please answer me truthfully." She dropped her hand in her lap and looked him squarely in the eyes.

Dr Scofield took a deep breath and released it loudly. "Ask your question," he said.

"Is it that no one wants to take his case?"

Dr Scofield reached for a small notebook at the corner of his desk, just below a stack of files, and wrote something on the margin of the page he opened. He turned the book towards her.

It read: No one wants to treat him. They are afraid.

Jhonie's hands became fists. Anxiety made her skin crawl. "Why me? I don't want to be in the same room with him either. He's a criminal." 

Her vision blurred at the edges as she tried to keep calm, and not hyperventilate. It was something only her family knew about. She bit into the inside of her mouth to keep herself grounded.

Dr Scofield sighed. "I can understand your concern for safety, but you seem to have developed a rapport with the patient. Last week when he went in for his electrocardiogram exam he enquired about you."

She grabbed the arm of the chair she was sitting on. "He asked about me?" She licked her dry lips. 'Father God, what have I gotten myself into?'

"Yes, he did. You seemed to have left an impression on him," Dr Scofield answered.

'I'm just a lamb to the slaughter at this point,' Jhonie mused ruefully.

Dr Scofield continued: 

"As part of your application you wrote that you have interest in studying heart disease, and training under the top specialists in the country. The administration of this hospital are aware of this. Also, being the legendary Dr Barnes' daughter, expectations are high. So far, you've proven to be very proficient in your duties." 

He put down his pen and removed his glasses. He inspected the lenses then carefully placed them on his desk. "I would say your talent is being wasted if you remain a general physician." He bent forward, his intense gaze pinning her to the chair. 

"Consider this a once in a lifetime opportunity. You will go in and monitor the patient's vitals, and report directly to Dr Brooks who will make himself available to guide you," Dr Scofield said.

"But—"

This is non-negotiable," he warned.

Jhonie clamped her mouth shut. Her left hand closed around the arm of the chair. She was about to explode with the injustice of the situation.

Dr Scofield clasped his hands together, his gaze not leaving her face. "For safety protocols, Mr Sterling will be brought here under the monitoring of two guards. He will be accommodated at our hospital's private wing for the purpose of running several tests. The wing will be temporarily cleared out before he arrives.

"Dr Brooks will guide you concerning appropriate medication and dosage, and will monitor any regimen you create to manage Sterling's cardiovascular health."

Jhonie's mouth went dry. 'This is madness!' she thought.

"Will Dr Brooks be in the examinations with me?" Jhonie asked. 

"No," Dr Scofield said. His gaze flicked down for just a second to his desk then shot back up. His eyes narrowed as he watched her. "Do you have any other questions?" he asked, his voice curt.

With an exasperated sigh, Jhonie shook her head, indicating no. "No," she said, "no more questions, only an observation."

Scofield nodded. "Go ahead."

She cleared her throat. "This is a highly irregular situation, sir."

He nodded. "Noted, Dr Barnes, but your opinion isn't needed at this time. What is needed is your talent and your ability to think quickly on your feet." 

Jhonie's eyelids flickered. She didn't expect that response. Her jaw clenched. "Understood," she replied, brusquely.

Something that looked like annoyance passed briefly across Dr Scofield's face. She swallowed hard. The last thing she wanted to do is piss him off. 

She cleared her throat. "I will report to Dr Brooks right away, sir. I will treat this as the opportunity it is," she said, softening her tone.

Dr Scofield gave her a slight nod. "You do that, doctor." He lifted his glasses and secured them on the bridge of his nose.  Reopening the file he was reading, he said, "You may leave", then focused his attention on the document.

Feeling awkward, Jhonie rose to her feet. "Thank you, sir," she said. She walked out of the office on wobbly legs, and headed further down the hall to see Dr Brooks.

Why are you trembling?

(The next day)

Promptly at 11 o'clock, a black armored vehicle pulled into the hospital compound with the words 'POLICE' boldly painted in white on the hood of the vehicle. Two steel-faced men jumped out of the vehicle and went to open its back door. 

They assisted Zavier down, who had both hands and feet bound in heavy chains. Onlookers whispered as they saw the men position themselves on either side of him, grabbed his arms and dragged him towards the entrance of the hospital. 

An orderly pushing a patient in a wheelchair stopped short as he saw the door swing open and two mean looking men with guns walked in, dragging almost carrying the man between them. His eyes grew large as saucers as his met the gaze of the man in the middle. He swallowed nervously, lowered his head and quickly pushed the patient past them.

The guards found room 201 and closed the door. "Don't try anything funny, y'ere?" CO Smith barked.

Macintosh chuckled. "Nuh worry yuhself, Dean, him know to behave himself."

Zavier kept his head bent, he was sitting on the examination table. His vision was blurry at best and 'swimming' at worst. The nausea was the next thing. He didn't know heart disease could cause that. 

At five past 11 AM, Dr Jhonie Barnes walked into the room with a medical clipboard, a sheet of blank paper attached to it. She cleared her throat and gave the guards a brief smile. 

Smith stared at her with his mouth open. "I didn't know they have pretty, young doctors working here now?" he quipped.

Jhonie ignored him and moved towards Zavier, who kept his head down. His jaw hurt from where Smith sucker punched him, then shoved him into the jail cell wall. He had a split lip, but he didn't fight back because that was what they wanted him to do. If he fought back they would deny him food and take his phone from him.

Jhonie observed his strange posture: his head bent; his right shoulder slumped forward. She touched his shoulder and he flinched. Alarm bells went off in her head. She whirled around to look at the guards. 

"What's wrong with him?" she asked, her eyes focused on Mac.

Mac shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe he's feeling sick," he said nonchalantly.

Jhonie's lips pursed in anger. "Did you guys rough him up before you brought him here?"

"Hey, do your doctoring so we can get out of here quickly," Smith said.

"A part of my doctoring," Jhonie said, her hands making air quotes, "is to ensure my patient isn't being abused."

Smith chuckled. "Miss, just do what you have to do so we can carry him back, and go on our lunch break, nuh man."

Jhonie threw the clipboard on the examination table. Zavier turned his head to look at it. She placed her hands on her hips. 

"Clearly, there's some misunderstanding here," she said. "You obviously think you can tell me what to do. I am volunteering my time." 

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Smith. "I don't have to do this and let me make it clear, if I get disrespected in any way I will leave this room and not come back. And I will report that you have been mistreating my patient."

Smith took a step towards her, his hands forming into fists, his face twisted by anger. Mac moved quickly to block him, pushing him back, his hand on his colleague's chest. "Cool it," Mac said. 

Smith looked at him, then backed off. He sucked his teeth. "I'm going for a bottle of water. Be right back," he said.

Mac nodded. "You do that," he replied. Smith gave Jhonie a death stare then left the room.

Mac turned to Jhonie. He gave her an apologetic smile. "Please forgive my colleague. He's having a bad day."

"More like having a bad attitude," Jhonie shot back. She turned away from him, so she didn't see his eyes hardening as he watched her.

She gently touched Zavier's shoulder again. This time a small intake of air indicated his discomfort. She looked at his bound hands and feet. "Can you remove these, please?" she asked without looking back at Mac.

"We do not remove restraints outside of the correctional facility, Dr Barnes," he said succinctly.

"That may be true, but my patient is injured. Or should I report what I'm seeing? The lack of regard for his safety."

Mac swore. Jhonie jumped slightly, surprised by his outburst. Zavier lifted his head and their eyes met. She swallowed. He had a dark bruise at the right corner of his bottom lip, but his eyes showed that he was not afraid. She stared into them for longer than she should then blinked away.

She turned to look at Mac. "What'll it be?" she asked.

"Strrrr!" Mac sucked his teeth loudly and advanced towards Zavier. He took a key from his trousers' pocket and opened the cuffs on Zavier's wrists. Mac removed the cuffs and pulled the chains around Zavier's waist, but left the shackles attached to his ankles. Zavier's left hand massaged his right shoulder as he observed everything.

Jhonie took a deep breath. She was going to do something risky. "Leave us," she said, making her voice clear and steady.

"What?!" Mac said. She turned her back on him. 

Zavier looked at her, his right eyebrow lifting above the left. 

"All you need to do is stay outside. I'm invoking doctor-patient privilege with Mr Sterling."

Mac looked at her incredulously. "What are you talking about? You're not even a heart doctor!"

She squared her shoulders and turned her head to look at him. "True, but you do want this man to make it to trial, right? The public is crying out for justice. Mr Sterling is a very sick man, you do want him to be around for the trial, right?"

Mac sucked his teeth again. "I'll be outside." He swung the door open and stepped out. Smith was already standing in the hallway. His eyes shot darts into the room until Mac pulled the door closed.

Jhonie took a deep breath, her shoulders rising to her ears. She exhaled, her shoulders dropping. She turned around to catch Zavier staring at her, a frown on his face. She smiled briefly at him.

"Can you take off your shirt, please," she said. He stared at her like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

He tried lifting both arms to pull off the shirt, but hot, throbbing pain ripped through his right shoulder, down his arm. The muscles spasmed and he grimaced at the pain. 

She moved closer to him. "Let me help you," she said. She put her hands on his arms stopping him. He dropped his arms and winced at the pain in his shoulder. 

The proximity of him unnerved her. She could smell the earthy, saltiness of his sweat, but also the faint scent of sandalwood. She took a ragged breath and started unbuttoning his shirt. It was a worn, faded blue dress shirt that had seen better days. Her finger nails brushed on his chest. 

Zavier flinched. 

She blinked. "I didn't scratch you?" she asked.

"No, you didn't," he said, clearing his throat.

She noticed the bobbing up and down of his Adam's Apple while he spoke and heat rushed to the back of her neck. She moved faster, pulling every button. 

"My shoulder. I can't move it," Zavier said, staring at her. 'She has beautiful eyes,' he thought.

She swallowed hard. Getting closer to help him take off his shirt was an invasion of personal space, but in order to complete her examination she had to. Taking a steadying breath, she held on to the shirt's lapels and carefully drew it off his shoulders, and down his arms. He gasped. 

She helped one arm out of a sleeve then the other as gently as she could. She stared at him. Wearing the shirt, he appeared to be on the slim side. However, his slender frame hid lean muscle definition. Her gaze drifted up to his eyes and what she saw made her look away. 

"Eh hmm, lucky for you I did a short stint in a physical therapy course before studying to be a doctor." Her fingers gently brushed on his ribs and he exhaled a sharp breath. 

His reaction caused her professional demeanor to snap back into place. Her eyes mapped muscle, bone and scar tissue with clinical precision. There was fresh discoloration along his right side and across his shoulder blade. 

She touched his right side. "Does this hurt?" He shook his head indicating no. She cleared her throat. "Okay," she said.

"Hmmph," Jhonie said."Tsk... tsk." She walked behind him to see his back. She again noted absentmindedly that he had a fairly muscular, but lean physique. His back looked strong. There was a scar on it which looked like an old wound. She touched it. Zavier's back arched reflexively. 

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No," he said, his voice coming out rough and breathy. Her hands were firm, but gentle as she probed the muscles of his neck, shoulders, arms and back. 

Zavier closed his eyes. The gentle pressure applied by her fingers felt good. She placed her hands under his armpits. "Can you lift your arms?" she asked. 

Zavier attempted to lift them, but he couldn't move the right shoulder. He gasped. He blew out a sharp, painful breath. 

Her brow furrowed. "Your right shoulder is dislocated," she said, anger coiling in her chest. She came around to his right side. 

"Who did this to you?" she asked.

Zavier snorted. "It's not important," he said.

She looked at the bone jutting out at an awkward angle. "Are you afraid something else will happen if you tell me?"

Zavier's jaw tensed, the muscle jumping into view. "At this point in my life I'm not afraid of anything."

Her eyelids flickered. Zavier became aware of how close she was to him. He could smell that delightful cinnamon scent. The more he smelt it, the more it was distracting.

She focused her attention on his right shoulder. She gently probed the rigid cords and sinews. "Feels like you have some torn ligaments also. She noticed the sweat beading on his forehead.

 She smiled to herself. 'You deserve all the pain you're feeling,' she mused. She sobered her features as she came around to face him. "Lay on your back."

Zavier lay back. She adjusted the exam table down to the level of her waist. "Stretch your feet out." He did as she instructed. She could see he was uncomfortable. 

"Not used to being the one taking instructions, eh?"

His eyes sharpened as he looked at her. She smiled at him. "You may feel a pop." 

She lifted his arm and cradled his elbow. Slowly, she rotated his forearm outward away from his body while applying a steady, gentle downward pull. When she felt the muscles spasm, she exhaled softly.

Patiently, she held the position and continued the action, waiting for his body to yield to the tension. A moment later, resistance gave way. A smile appeared on her lips as with a slight nudge from her thumbs, the bone slid into the socket with a sickening thud.

Zavier grunted. His eyes fluttered closed, and Jhonie grinned with satisfaction. 'Serves you right,' she thought.

"Better?" she asked, her face neutral.

"Mhm," he hummed softly.

"Sit up. Let's see what's going on with your bad heart."

Zavier sat up slowly and tentatively flexed his shoulders. He was staring at her in that unreadable, unnerving way again. She cleared her throat and removed the stethoscope from around her neck.

"Put your feet flat on the floor, please." She walked behind him and stared at his back as he placed his feet on the floor.

"You have quite a scar," she said, trying to hide her curiosity.

"Knife wound. Rival gang," he said. She noted that he sounded better. More relaxed.

"Hmm, is that so?" she said. 'That person took the phrase back stabber literally,' she mused, her lips curving upwards.

"Just breathe casually. Like how you normally would." She placed the stethoscope between his ribs. The cold metal made him shiver a little, and she observed the muscles in his back tense. Her eyes narrowed. 'Focus, girl!' Jhonie tucked the earpiece in her ears and listened.

Ta-tatat-taka-tak-ka-tat-tat-k-tatat-ka-tat.

She leaned forward as she moved the device lower. "Breathe in slowly, then breathe out slowly," she said, her tone polite.

She closed her eyes and listened. Her fingers brushed lightly on his back when she moved her hand to the left. A small part of her registered the warmth of his skin. Zavier took a sharp intake of air.

Taka tak-ka-takaka tat tat ta kat ta taka taka ...

His heart rate had accelerated. She frowned. "Are you feeling any pain? Chest feeling tight?"

"No." Came the husky, gravelly reply.

She opened her eyes and looked at his back. She walked around the examination table to face him, and placed the chest piece on his breast bone. He barely had any chest hair, but there was a smattering of tightly coiled hair trailing down his belly into the waist band of his black trousers. She cleared her throat to recalibrate her thoughts.

Zavier stared at her. His eyes followed the delicate lines of her high cheek bones and smooth, graceful neck. She's gorgeous. He was hyper-conscious of her body's proximity to his and the fact that for some reason he was making her nervous.

Jhonie caught his intense stare, but focused her eyes on his chest. "Breathe in and out as before," she said, her voice shaky.

His chest lifted—expanding. She became aware of the pectorals stretching as he inhaled and contracting as he exhaled. She held her breath for a beat and tried to conquer the stray thoughts that were creeping into her mind.

Nice physique for a man in his forties. I wonder if he used to hit the gym regularly or worked out at home. What the hell?! None of your business, Jhonie! This man hurt your family. He killed your father. Who cares if he's built?

"Not bad conditioning for a forty-five year old," she mused aloud, exhaling quietly.

His body shifted slightly and she looked up to see a mocking smile on his lips. "Was I meant to hear that doc, or was that an intrusive thought?" he asked.

"Just stating a fact," she said, quickly turning sideways. Damn it!

Zavier chuckled softly. "If you say so," he said, his voice lightening with humor.

Jhonie's lips pressed into a thin line. She hated herself for noticing that little change in tone. She stepped away and perched the stethoscope on her neck.

Zavier saw that her hands were shaking. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked. He leaned towards her and stretched out his feet to test her boundaries. She recoiled, her heel catching the leg of the chair behind her. Trying to correct her balance, she stumbled backwards. Zavier's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist—slamming her against his chest.

Her hands splayed across his abdomen to steady herself. Beneath her palms, his muscles instantly hardened, the ridges locking tight. Zavier released a sharp breath. She looked up at his face, her mouth parting slightly as she found him staring down at her with darkening eyes.

"Why are you trembling?" he asked, his voice dipping to something soft, but rough around the edges.

Jhonie did not answer him. She swallowed hard, her eyes guarded even from being this close. Instead, she deliberately stilled her hands against him and curled them into fists. She yanked her wrists out of his grasp, stepped back, and took a steadying breath. Moving purposefully, she went to her bag on the desk—where she had left it prior to the examination—and unzipped it.

With heightened awareness, Zavier watched her trembling hands take out a sphygmomanometer to check his blood pressure. He had the sudden urge to touch her—to break her false wall of control. A guttural sound rumbled in his chest, making her body flinch. He smiled to himself. 'Gotcha.'

She turned to face him, her eyes guarded as she lowered her head to avoid eye contact. "Uh... thank you for breaking my fall," she said. After a tense beat, she added, "Please don't do that again. Don't touch me."

Jhonie forced herself to ignore the sensitivity of her skin where he touched her, and wrapped the gray nylon cuff around his bicep with stiff, robotic movements. She pumped the rubber bulb, the gauge needle jumping with each squeeze as she listened intently through her stethoscope. When the air hissed out, she noted the numbers, determined to project professional detachment.

Zavier didn't move an inch, his eyes focused on the tight set of her jaw. "Why are you acting like this towards me?" he asked quietly, the smooth tone contrasting with the earlier rough inflection of his voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She removed the device, sat down on the chair and wrote out her observations on the paper pinned to the clipboard. Zavier's mouth curved into a half smile, his back straight while he watched her.

"You took a risk earlier standing up for me," he said. "Why did you? Clearly you hate me for some reason."

She wanted to say: I hate you for killing my father. But decided to take a quick breath. "I'm a doctor first and foremost. My job is to see to the welfare of my patients."

A suppressed emotion moved across his face. He adjusted himself in the sitting position. "So why do you act like you hate me?"

She raised her head, but still couldn't stomach looking into his eyes.. "I hate what you represent," she said calmly.

"What do I represent?" Zavier asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Evil. Exploitation. People like you take and destroy."

"People like me?" he asked, his voice dropping in register.

A chill passed through her. The air thinned, and tension pulsed like a living thing between them. She averted her eyes from his gaze.

"Yes," she said, standing to her feet. He stood up also, his eyes searching her face. "Why do I feel like you want something from me?"

"I want nothing from you," she said, anger burgeoning in her belly. She tilted her head up to quickly meet his eyes. "I'm just doing my job." She looked away.

"You're very good at it." He flexed his shoulders while clenching and unclenching his right hand. A frown materialized as he stared at her.

She nodded. 'I want justice to be served and you to go to prison for my father's death,' she thought. "Thank you," she said.

"Tell the guards to pick up your meds at the pharmacy downstairs. You are to take them two times a day right after a meal." She took out a prescription pad from her coat and scribbled on it, pressing her pen into the smooth surface of the paper. She tore off the sheet and gave it to him.

"As for the bruise on your right side, there's an ointment I've also included on the paper. Apply that three times daily."

Zavier looked at the words. "You're penmanship is atrocious," he said, a smile forming on his lips. A slight twitch at the corner of her mouth made him know she was amused, though her eyes did not show it.

'Interesting,' he thought. She gave him a brief nod and touched the handle of the door.

"Thank you, Dr Barnes," Zavier said, thinking he ought to say it. 'Definitely something fascinating about you,' he mused.

She stared at him for a minute, taking in his dark eyes adorned by thick lashes and pronounced eyebrows. She observed his sharp cheek bones and the obstinate shape of his jaw. He was freshly shaved. His full lips were the only soft thing about his facial features. She noted that he wasn't wearing his glasses today. Her gaze drifted down to his chest and abdominal muscles.

Zavier's eyebrows lifted and his body tensed when he realized how boldly she was checking him out. Again, he thought of reaching out and touching her, just to see what she would do. He cleared his throat.

She blinked and squeezed the door handle. Inclining her head slightly, she opened the door and closed it behind her. Zavier looked down at the paper in his hands. He wanted to see her again.

Shortly afterwards, Mac stepped into the room. Zavier ignored him and moved to put on his shirt.

"You alright?" Mac asked.

"Where is that fool you brought with you?" Zavier asked.

Mac cleared his throat. "He went to lunch," he answered. "I can handle you by myself."

"Can you now?" Zavier asked, smiling wickedly. He pushed the last button in its hole and adjusted the shirt over his shoulders. He turned to look at Mac.

Mac hissed his teeth. "Let's get out of here." He took the chains and hand cuffs out of a bag over his left shoulder, and motioned for Zavier to come forward. He complied. Mac placed Zavier's hands in the cuffs and chains, and connected it around his waist.

"I need another favor from you," Zavier said.

"I'm listening," Mac said, bending down to secure the chains to the ankle shackles. He straightened up and looked at Zavier.

"I need some information," Zavier said.

"What kind of information?" Mac asked.

"The kind that solves a puzzle."

Mac grunted. He grabbed Zavier by the arm and led him to the door. "Okay," he replied.

Three days later

Intel

"What did you find out?"        

Mac had a smirk on his face as he leaned on the lock-up's bars. 

"Find out about what, Mr Sterling?" Macintosh asked.

Zavier was laying on an old cot that was wrapped with a blue fitted sheet Zahir had brought from the house. The sheet that original wrapped it hadn't been changed since the day he walked into that jail cell. That was months ago. 

Zavier took matters into his own hands. He loathed the thought of catching anything in this place. He sat up slowly and glimpsed a tan colored file jacket behind the guard's back. He spread his legs apart and leaned forward.

"What's that behind you?" he asked.

Macintosh's smirk turned into a full blown grin. "What is it worth to you?"

"I don't know what you have with you. How will I know if it's worth anything?"

Mac chuckled. "Oh, it's worth something to you. Trust me," he said.

Zavier frowned. "Is it the information I asked you for?"

Mac nodded. His grin made Zavier uneasy. "Pass it here," he said, stretching out his hand.

"No... uh," Mac said. "I had to pay someone to do some leg work for me. You know I can't leave when it's my shift."

"So what about on your day off?" Zavier retorted, his eyes narrowing.

"Psssh!" Mac shook his head and gave a quick laugh. "You expect me to work for you on my days off? My days off are my days off." He brought his right hand from behind his back and slapped the file in the palm of his left hand. "Give me ten grand and we're square."

Fury rose in Zavier's chest. "You greedy mother..."

"Ah... uh!" Mac said chuckling. "No curse words will be tolerated. Remember?"

Zavier ran his hand over the growing hair on his head. "Mac, I gave you what you asked for the last time. You got your money. I sent you a text to remind you of this thing. I also told you that I would pay you another time and add this on any other charges I rack up with you, but I need this info."

Mac laughed. It was a hollow sound. "You don't need this info. What use is Dr Barnes' background to you? No matter. I have it here." He opened the file jacket and read, flipping through printed pages. 

With eyebrows raised, Zavier watched him. "How many pages is that?" he asked.

Mac grinned. "You want to know? Well, pay me." He made a step as though he would walk away. 

"Okay! Okay!" 

Mac stopped his movements.

"I will get my son to bring the money to me during visiting hours tomorrow," Zavier said hurriedly. 

The sudden tightening of his chest made him feel nauseous. He lay back and closed his eyes. He reached for the pills in his shirt pocket, pulled the lid off the prescription bottle and popped one in his mouth.

"I'll make sure you get your money," he said.

Mac smiled broadly. "Exactly what I want to hear," he said. He walked back to the metal door and opened it. "I don't think you should be taking those things without food." Mac said grinning.

"F**k off," Zavier said with a low growl. Mac chuckled. He walked in and dropped the file at the end of Zavier's mattress. Zavier's eyes watched him with hate, but he masked it with a blank expression.  

"No more of those favors for now. People will get suspicious," Macintosh said.

Zavier nodded. "Fine," he said. He needed to find Mac's weakness and rein him in or he would ruin him.

Mac closed the cell door and left Zavier in a brooding mood. He raised himself on his elbows and reached for the file placed beside his left ankle. Opening the file jacket, he started reading, a scowl forming on his face as more information was revealed to him. A name popped out at him: a name he was familiar with. 

'Interesting,' he thought. He continued reading.

Six Days Later

The shrill sound of her phone's alarm dragged her out of a deep sleep. She turned and reached out a hand to grab the phone. Her thumb flicked up to quickly unlock the phone's touch. 

The yellow clock icon dancing on the screen clearly showed an alarm for 4:30 AM. She hissed her teeth. 'Daniel must have toyed with my phone again.'  

They had the same smartphone model. The only thing was that she had hers longer. It wasn't the first time he mistook her phone for his when they both lay idle on the coffee table, but she changed her screen saver. Hers was a picture of a yellow hibiscus flower laid on a rugged piece of hard wood. "Cyaa bother enuh, strrrr!"

She sat up and slowly stepped off the side of the bed. She moved towards the bathroom on sluggish legs to pee. When she returned to the bedroom she picked up the phone, and slid under the warm covers. A yawn pulled at the corner of her jaws. She opened her mouth allowing it to happen.

 May as well stay up until it's time to bathe. Rubbing her eyes, she scrolled through a few social media posts until a text came into her Messages App. 

"Who this?" she asked. She opened the text and instantly her hands tightened around its frame. 

The Next Day

Jhonie walked into the kitchen her shoulders tense and a knot in her neck. She moved her head left to right, stretched her arms over her head and sighed. Her mother had come home early and was already making breakfast.

"Mommy, good morning," she said going over to her to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Morning baby." She gave her daughter an air kiss. She glanced at Jhonie briefly then focused on the frying pan on the stove. 

"Fried dumplings?" Jhonie asked, looking over her mother shoulders.

"Mhm," her mother answer. "Are your brothers up?"

"Don't know, but I need to see Danny," Jhonie said, her tone terse.

"What happen now?" her mother asked, amused.

"Mommy, I know you love your son, and I love him too, but him annoying man!"

Marlene chuckled softly. "So what him do now?"

"Him tek up mi phone an' put alarm on it for 4:30!"

Marlene started laughing.

"Mommy, that's not funny!" Jhonie said, crossing her arms. Even as she watched her mother's face light up she found herself smiling too. Marlene's smiles were few since their father's death, so her children considered it a privilege to make her laugh or smile.

Marlene took three crispy dumplings out of the skillet and laid them in a large ceramic bowl lined with paper towels. Jhonie watched her, her mouth watering. "What are we eating with that?" she asked.

"I got some callaloo from a colleague so I'm cooking it this morning." Jhonie came up behind her and put her arms around her waist. Her mother worked as a night caregiver at nursing home. Healthcare was not something that she ever had in mind. 

She was in the corporate world for many years until Winston convinced her that she had the emotional empathy to be a great nurse, but Marlene didn't want to do the four years required for that qualification.

She decided to do a certificate course to be a caregiver instead. The hours were grueling and sometimes the patients were difficult to deal with, but it was rewarding work. She worked the night shift because it paid more money. Jhonie and her siblings were hoping to retire her from working very soon. 

Danny was still in college, studying to be an engineer, but Orlando and Michael were already employed. Orlando was an accountant following in his mother's footsteps, while Michael was a Risk Analyst for a top investment firm. Jhonie was the only doctor in the family, and the baby. Daniel was the third child, but two years ago he deferred his university studies to travel and work for his best friend's dad. Now that he was back he had a lot of catching up to do. 

Jhonie would begrudgingly admit that though folks saw her as brilliant, Daniel was the real bright spark. From as early as fifteen, Danny completed all his CSEC exams and breezed through his CAPE courses as if they were nothing. 

The problem with Danny was he was ditzy and would get easily bored and distracted. It was a wonder Orlando managed to get him to come back to Jamaica to study. Because of his scatterbrained behavior, Jhonie and Danny clashed often. She loved him but wished he were more responsible.

She drew out a chair and sat at the kitchen table, watching her mother stripping and cutting up the callaloo. "Need help?" she asked.

Marlene smiled. "No, baby, just relax. I'll be done before you know it."

Jhonie smiled back, loving the comfort of being near her mother. Her mind, however, replayed the text messages that had come in last night:

Unknown: Detainee 685701 has made inquiries about you. He has asked me to investigate where you live, who your family is, and any other item of interest in your life. He is a dangerous man. You need to stay away from him

She remembered how she had replied: If you're so concerned, why give him this information?

Unknown: Because my superiors are looking for any opportunity to bury him. If we can prove he's not only a criminal but unhinged in another way—a predator—we can make sure he never leaves prison. 

Jhonie: Why does it sound like you want something from me?

Unknown: Meet him tomorrow night and plant something on him.

Jhonie: What?

Unknown: We need you to get someone to take pictures of yourself and hide them in his jail cell.

Jhonie: No 

Unknown: Don't you want to avenge your father's death?

Jhonie: ???? How do you know about my father?? Does Mr Z know about my father's death? Is that in the info you gave him?

Unknown: Yes

Jhonie: Who are you?

Unknown: Are you in or not?

Jhonie: This is crazy

Unknown: So you don't want him to pay for what he did to your father?

Jhonie: What do I need to do?

She remembered what 'unknown' told her to do. Take some pictures of her going about her business. She would ask a friend to snap a few pictures of her going into the hospital and going out to lunch and get them printed. She felt very uneasy about the whole thing, but now that Sterling knew who she was, maybe he would be willing to answer her questions.

A shadow passed over her face. She blinked and refocused her eyes. "Honey, you okay?" her mother asked. 

Jhonie looked at her and smiled. "Yeah, mommy I'm good. Just thinking about my duties today."

Marlene squeezed her arm. "Wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head. "Nah..." Something else was on her mind. "Mommy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I know it's really hard for you to talk about this," Jhonie said, her voice tight, "but I need to ask about Dad's killer. Or the incidents that led up to him being killed."

Marlene took a deep breath and sat down on the ornately carved wooden chair. While the rest of the family sat on metal chairs, Marlene preferred the old wooden chair because it was from a set of chairs her husband bought with his first paycheck.

"It's okay," Marlene said, placing her palms flat on the table. "Ask your questions."

Jhonie reached out and squeezed her mother's hand. "Mommy," she started tentatively. "This Mr Sterling guy... tell me again how Daddy met him."

Marlene sighed. "Your dad considered himself a business man. He was a doctor yes, but he loved doing business like his own dad. After he saved enough money from paychecks, and after we bought this house, we discussed it together and he decided to import some sports paraphernalia. Football jerseys, footballs, sneakers, basketball gear, etc. He also wanted to get into the fitness niche, so he bought a few dumbbells and exercise garments. You know: sweatpants, leggings, sports bras, and things like that."

Jhonie nodded to reassure her. She squeezed her mother's hand tighter. Marlene released an unsteady breath. 

"He was bringing a huge haul into the country and apparently that sparked the interest of Mr Sterling. Within a couple days Mr Sterling contacted him. The thing was Customs was giving your father a hard time to get them into the country. Sterling offered to make the problem go away. 

"Your father was happy for the help. The goods were just sitting on the port not moving. Sterling made the problem go away about classification with one phone call. After your father got the goods he offered to pay him for any inconvenience but Sterling asked to get a cut of the revenue. 

"At first, Winston refused but after meeting with him, Sterling convinced him that he was a legitimate business man who could help him with the distribution of the products. Winston thought this Mr Z was a Godsend."

"Why did he kill him?" Jhonie asked. Her heart constricted not just with her pain but seeing it mirrored in her mother's face.

Marlene cleared his throat. "Your father found out that Sterling profited from illegal activity. He had legal businesses, but he was some kind of underworld boss. Your father arrived for a meeting with him. When he got there, there were men already inside. He overheard some things he shouldn't have, burst into the room, and confronted the... the criminal." Her words came out with forced venom. 

"He threatened to expose him. Apparently, a few high profile people in society were also present."

Jhonie frowned at this last revelation. "High profile?"

"Mhm."

Jhonie licked her dry lips. She was feeling light-headed. "Did Daddy mention who they were?"

Marlene shook her head. "No. He said for the sake of our family he would not say. Later, he called Mr. Sterling and told him he would withdraw himself from doing business with him. He also told him he wouldn't reveal to anyone what he saw."

Jhonie's heart was beating fast. She wondered who was at that meeting twelve years ago. 

"A week after he confronted Sterling he was ran off the road and shot in his car. Five bullets." Marlene placed her face in her hands and took a deep breath. Jhonie hugged her mother when she heard the first muffled sob.

***

After coming getting Nurse Foster to take a few pictures of her, she went to a photo studio in Half Way Tree to get the pictures developed. She sent a text to the private number and within thirty seconds the phone rang. She looked at her screen flashing, then with a deep breath she slid her thumb across to answer.

"Hello?"

"Good day, Dr Barnes," the voice said.

Wait?! What the! "Macintosh? Is that you?!" jhonie asked, her voice becoming high pitched.

Mac chuckled. "So you have been paying attention to me," he answered.

Jhonie gripped her phone. She looked around the Photo studio's parking lot.  She wondered if she was being watched. A chill ran up her spine and prickled the back of her neck. She cleared her throat. "I-I got the pictures. Do I send them to you or what?"

"Did you have them printed?" Mac asked, amusement still in his voice.

"Yes, I..."

"Having second thoughts?" Mac asked, his voice suddenly getting serious. "May I remind you that I got your iPhone number without your permission. There are other things I can do to you without your consent."

Jhonie's heart sank, her mouth went dry. How did he know my phone is an iPhone?  "What? What do you mean?"

"You don't want to find out. Just do this and you never have to see Sterling again."

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Jhonie asked. She walked towards the main road to get a taxi, but her legs felt like she was walking through wet sand. Her chest was tightening up on her. She started counting to ten in her head.

"... Dr Barnes!" Mac shouted on the line.

"Yes, yes, I'm h-here," she stuttered.

"Do you agree? You can ask him about your father and get the answers you want," Mac said, dangling getting information from Mr Z like a juicy carrot. Jhonie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

"Yes, okay, I'll do it," she replied.

"Tonight. Come 9 o'clock. To make it look like a medical emergency bring your doctor bag."

Jhonie exhaled leaning on the wall of a building near the road. "Will do," she rasped. Mac ended the call.

She called Rachel. 

When her cousin came to pick her up she was sitting in a nearby fast-food restaurant. Jhonie slid into the vehicle, her legs feeling like rubber.

"You're lucky today's my day off, and I wasn't really going to do anything. Since you're here I'm craving some pea soup. What do you say?" Rachel looked over at her cousin and realized something was wrong. 

"Jo?"

Jhonie was lost in thought.

Rachel touched her arm. "Jhonie, what's wrong?" 

Jhonie turned her head to her. Her eyes looked watery. 

"Jo, babe, Are you okay?"

"No," came out with a sob. Rachel pressed her foot on the gas. "Okay, I'm taking you back to my place. You're going to tell me what's wrong?" 

Jhonie nodded.

Not a good idea

"So you're saying some man, a supposed correctional officer, wants you to incriminate a man who is already guilty?" Rachel asked, sipping her chamomile tea. She watched as her cousin stretched her feet out in front of her.

Jhonie sighed. "That's not the worst part," she said.

"What is?" Rachel asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Somehow he got my phone number, and I think he threatened me."

"What do you mean?" Rachel put her mug down on the small table before them.

Jhonie released a soft breath. "He said just as he could get my phone number without my permission, he doesn't need my consent to do something to me." 

Fear struck deep in Rachel's heart. She grabbed her cousin's hand. "Jo, we need to tell the police!"

Jhonie rubbed the palm of her right hand over her face. "Tell them what? That this private number called me and promised me revenge for my father's death? That someone is trying to frame Sterling? That they threatened to do harm to me? How can I be sure that the police aren't involved too?"

Rachel's eyes were blown wide. "I never thought of that." She swallowed. "And you say you know this prison guard?"

"Technically, he's a guard at the lock-up or jail if you want to call it that," Jhonie corrected.

"No matter. You're saying this guy is a guard and you've met him?"

Jhonie nodded, setting her mug down.

"Oh boy!" Rachel shook her head. "What are you going to do?" She looked at her cousin's half empty mug. "Done with that?" Jhonie nodded. She took it up along with hers and padded bare feet to the kitchen.

"I'm going to see Mr Z," Jhonie said. Sh ewas afraid but this was not the time to run away. She needed answers. 

"What?!" Rachel spun around to look at her. She dropped the mugs in the sink and marched into the room. "What yuh just seh?!"

Jhonie shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "I need to know about my father. I need to confront him. I need to know why he—"

She refused to look her cousin in her eyes.

"You need to know why?" Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, staring at her as though she had grown a second head. "Yuh lick yuh head, don't it? Jo, have you lost your mind?! These people whoever they are trying to set him up and using you as the tool! Don't you see that?"

"I know! What other choice do I have?!

"The police—"

"The police could be involved!" Jhonie shouted out of frustration.

Rachel's mind was whirling. "Wait... What about that nice police guy you told me about? The corporal? You said he was nice. You could ask him to help."

Jhonie shook her head. Though their brief encounter ended on a fairly amicable note she didn't want to see him. "I don't know if he's corrupt, but even if he isn't I don't want him involved."

Rachel moved closer to her cousin. "Why not?" she softened her tone. 

Jhonie lowered her gaze. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. 

Rachel sat down on the couch and tucked her feet under her. "Hun, it was a few times you met this guy. He explained that he was having a hard time. You knew about his ex. Didn't you tell me she was your patient?"

Jhonie's shoulders drooped. "I don't want to talk about it." Her voice was heavy with unspoken regret.

Rachel scooted closer and put her arms around her. "Okay, no prob. But hun, going to see Sterling is not a good idea. Suppose they are hoping he will assault you or something?' I don't think you should go, and I think you should tell aunty about this."

Jhonie sighed. "I won't go," she said. She clasped her hands together. Her eyes staring at nothing in particular.

"Promise?"

"Yeah," she said with a sigh, but she kept her eyes straight ahead of her. She felt Rachel's arms cover her shoulders. She sat rigidly in the embrace. 

Little Rabbit and The Fox

(That night - 9:00 PM)

Jhonie adjusted the strap of her medical bag, trying to ignore the rapid thudding of her heart as the heavy steel doors of the cell block groaned open. She was met by CO Macintosh who escorted her grim faced down the row of cells to Zavier's.

"You ready to do this?" Mac asked.

Jhonie released a rushed breath. "It's not like you gave me a choice," she retorted.

Mac looked at her, something like admiration flashed across his face then was gone. "This way," he said gesturing before him.

Johnie took a deep breath. They stopped at the cell near the end of the corridor on the left side.

Mac retrieved a key from the chain attached to his belt. "Do this well and we won't need you for anything else. You have the pictures with you?

Jhonie nodded. Mac smiled. "Good," he said.

Mac knocked his baton on the cell bars. Zavier groaned and rolled over on his back.

"Oye! Missah man! Mr Z! Wake up!" Mac shouted. They heard groans and curse words from jail cells nearby. Jhonie fingers tightened around the bag's strap. Maybe she shouldn't have come here at 9 o'clock at night.

God, what was I thinking?

Zavier stirred and swore darkly. "Weh yuh want, man?!" His voice was thick with sleep.

"Yuh have a visitor!" Mac said, openly amused.

Zavier hissed his teeth. Maybe it's Midnight coming to mock me again. Kyle loves the dark. "Midnight, weh di bumbo cl**t wrong wid yuh? Can't you allow a dying man to get some rest?!"

Mac's face crinkled into a gleeful smile. "Not Midnight," he said.

Zavier froze. "Then who?" he asked, suspicion in his voice.

Jnonie spoke up, her confidence ebbing. "It-It's me, Dr Barnes." The air grew thick with tension.

Zavier rolled onto his side. "What do you want? Why are you here at this time of night?" he asked.

"I need to check something," she said, steadying her voice.

"Something to do with me?' He remained in his reclined position.

"Yes," she said.

A beat.

"Okay," he said.

Mac moved forward, turned the key in the lock and opened the cell door.

"I can stay in the room if you want," he offered.

Jhonie shook her head. "Give us some space. I won't take long," she said.

He nodded. "Scream if you need me," he said, chuckling, but his eyes focused on Zavier's posture.

Jhonie chuckled nervously. "If I need to I will." He glanced at her, took one last look at Zavier and left them alone.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the 6 by 10 feet jail cell. There was an old cot with a mattress that Zavier lay on, and that was it.  

Zavier wore a white marina riddled with holes and faded blue jeans with no belt. At the doctor's appointment he wore black sneakers, now he was wearing a pair of black and red slippers. Jhonie released a ragged breath. Even in old clothes his aura was still intimidating.

Zavier sat up and watched her. His eyes measured every subtle curve of her body. She was wearing that large, white overcoat again, but he could tell she had a nice figure. He recalled what he read in those papers amR few days ago.

She crossed her arms. Zavier leaned forward. In spite of everything, knowing who she was, he wanted her. He decided to wait and see what she would do. A minute passed before she cleared her throat and stepped forward.

"You've been asking about me?" Jhonie's her chin lifted. 

Despite her brave facade, he could tell she was afraid. Zavier smirked and lay down on his cot. "Who told you that?" he asked.

"The same person you told to look me up," she answered. Zavier's jaw clenched. He was going to destroy Mac.

"I got a text from a private number. I wasn't going to read it, but something told me to open the message. Imagine my shock to hear that prisoner number 685701 is interested in me!"

Zavier chuckled softly. "And what? You're here to confront me? To put me in my place?" He lifted himself up on his elbows.

"No," she said coming closer. 

"Why are you here then?" Something dark briefly passed across his visage.

"I want to know why," she said softly.

"Why what?"

"Why did you look me up?" Jhonie asked, her lips trembling. 

Zavier sat up straight. "I was curious. After our meeting a few days ago I wanted to understand you."

Her fingers curled into fists. "Why?" Her voice shook.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Something about you intrigues me," he said simply.

"And?" Her whole body was shaking at this point. For some reason this pulled a visceral reaction out of him. He desperately wanted to touch her. He stood up and advanced towards her. She stepped back.

His expression sobered. "I read some details about you."

"And?" she said, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso. 

"I was curious," he said plainly. He stopped just a few feet away from her. He could see the fear in her eyes. She was right to be afraid of him. 

"So you know about my life. You don't know me," she said. 

"Why did you come?" he asked, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of deceit.

Her lips trembled. "You killed my father," she said. She stared behind him at the bare walls. 

He shook his head. "This is the second time I'm being accused of doing something I never did," he said, anger sparking in his chest.

She looked at him. A tear silently streaked down her right cheek. Murderer!

"I never killed your father," Zavier said. He squared his shoulders. "Someone else beat me to it."

Jhonie's posture became rigid. Her gaze hardened with hatred as she realized he wasn't saying he didn't kill him because of some moral code, but that he didn't get the chance to because the opportunity was taken from him. "I don't believe you," she said, uncrossing her arms. 

"Sometimes I wish I was a man," she said bitterly. "Then I can be as strong as you, or stronger. I would strangle you with my own hands."

He moved swiftly. His right hand covered her neck as he pushed her up against the wall near the foot of his cot. The force knocked the wind out of her.

"You were foolish in coming tonight. And very foolish in telling the guard to give you space."

He leaned into her, pressing his lower body on her. He increased the pressure on her throat. She shuddered and he felt the unmistakable stirring of sexual excitement in his loins. 

Jhonie tried to push him off her but failed. Her hands were useless, trapped between them as her breaths came out quick and shallow. She was helpless against his solid frame.

"Little rabbit," he said, his eyes boring into her. "Why would you come into the den of the fox all by yourself? Hmm?" He pressed himself on her, grinding slowly so she could feel his arousal on her belly. 

Her mouth parted in a sharp gasp before she squeezed her eyes shut, her entire body trembling against him. He bent his head, catching the scent of wild cinnamon on her skin. Zavier inhaled it deeply, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest. "Interesting," he muttered.

He brushed his thumb over her parted lips. Her eyes flew open. He looked into them, reading the weakness in her gaze. "Unless you want something from me."

"I don't want anything from you. You're evil," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop it. The mock amusement instantly vanished from his face. His fingers tightened just enough on her neck to remind her of her vulnerable position.

His eyes flashed with sudden, dark offense. "Dangerous, little rabbit. Ruthless, even," he hissed, his voice dropping an octave. "But do not mistake my survival instincts for evil."

He released his grip on her throat, letting her go. Her body shuddered as she sagged against the cold wall. A trembling hand rubbed her aching throat as she tentatively swallowed. He stepped back, observing her closely. Something about her perplexed him. "What do you want, Dr Barnes?"

Jhonie bent her head, staring at the floor. I shouldn't be here.

"You have five minutes to tell me what you want, or I'll call the guard to escort you out," he said, scorn reflecting in his posture.

He went to his cot and sat down. "I'm listening."

Jhonie coughed. Who do I fear more: Sterling or Mac? Or whoever it is that's pulling the strings behind the scenes? What about my dad?

Her legs felt weak when she pushed herself off the wall, but she approached him anyway. Zavier watched her. A chill like a cold blade rippled down his spine.

He put his hand out, halting her. "On second thought I think you should leave."

Jhonie bit her bottom lip. "Why?"

"I don't know what kind of game this is, but I'm not a fool," Zavier said. Jhonie looked into his eyes and was hopelessly drawn to the raw, predatory aura of him. She coughed then swallowed. 

"I-I need information about my dad," she said hoarsely.

"As I told you I didn't kill him. I wanted to, but someone else did me the favor."

She recoiled from his cruel words, her body shivering violently. "You have no soul," she said, her voice breaking. 

I can't do this! I can't do this! She spun towards the cell door. The room seemed to tilt under her feet. She staggered forward, her movements frantic and  jerky. The edges of her vision blurred, and her chest tightened, suffocating her. Her head felt unbearably muddled and heavy. 

Oh God, no! No! Not right now, please!

Zavier frowned. What's wrong with her?

Jhonie stumbled forward and tried to grasp the cell bars. Her knees gave way and she collapsed on the floor. Zavier stood to his feet. She looked up at him. He was standing but he seemed to be swaying from left to right. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to relax. Her breathing came out in short spurts.

Zavier frowned as he looked at her. "What's wrong with you?" 

"I..." A wheezy sound escaped. "I-I can't do this!" she whispered. She released shallow, audible breaths.

Zavier stooped down beside her. 

"Look at me," he demanded. Her eyes snapped open, her body turning towards him by reflex. When had he gotten close to me? I didn't hear him! She trembled, her fingers digging into the padded flesh of her hands.

His eyes darkened as he observed her dilated pupils and sweaty, clammy skin. He shifted closer and watched her. She cringed backwards. His mind adjusted, thinking of scenarios on how to handle her. A memory surfaced. Panic attack. Marcia used to have them as a child.

He walked back to his bed, bent over and retrieved a bottle of water. He opened the cork. The rip of the seal in the quiet room sounded like the crack of a whip. Jhonie's body jolted. He brought the bottle to her and put his hand out for her to take it.

"Here," he said, his voice gruff. "Drink it. It's a fresh bottle. I haven't drunk from it."

Jhonie looked at the bottle. "Take it," Zavier said impatiently. "I won't have you die on me in here."

She reached out her hand and he shoved it into her palm. He moved back, putting some distance between them. Jhonie pulled her feet up to her chest as she continued to sit on the floor.

"The floor is filthy," Zavier said. "You should get up."

Jhonie did not speak. She put the bottle to her mouth and took slow, measured gulps.

After a minute had passed, she set the bottle down on the floor. "Thank you," she said, her throat constricting.

He nodded. "Now get out," he said. His voice was cold steel.

Jhonie stood up on shaky feet. She reached for the metal bars, leaning on them for support. Clearing her throat, she bent her head. "One good favor deserves another, Mr Sterling."

She turned her head to look at his cold gaze. "You're being set up," she said quietly. "They want to bury you in here. I hate you. You killed my father, but I am not like you or these people whoever they are. I can't hurt people."

Something flickered in his eyes. "Why did you come?" he asked.

She let out a short, low, bitter laugh. "I came to set you up and to get you to tell me why you killed my dad. Though you say you didn't. Which leaves me with the question of who did. Who killed my father?"

"If I see you again I will tell you," Zavier said softly, the gears in his mind calculating. She may be useful to me beyond the physical attraction.

"I am going to recuse myself from this case. Tomorrow, I'm going to go to Dr ... uh, my supervisor, and tell him why I can't continue to look after you."

Zavier chuckled softly. "You foolish girl. I'll bet he already knows about your history and that is why you were chosen. They think you'd want revenge for your dead father." He crouched forward as he looked at her. "They didn't count on the fact that you are weak. Lucky for me, eh?"

She took out the pictures from her medical bag and threw them on the floor. "I was supposed to plant these somewhere in your room so they can find them and add stalking as a charge."

A crooked smile formed on his lips. "Is that so?" A thought crossed his mind. They'll kill her if they find out she betrayed them.

"Tell me something: Is Mac in on this?" The smile on his lips vanished and was replaced by a penetrating focus.

She nodded. "I see," he said flatly.

He lay back. "Go home, Dr Banes. Try to get some sleep and go to work as normal. Let's pretend you did frame me. Do not tell Mac you chickened out, you'll be dead by morning." A pause. "Bring those pictures here." Jhonie picked them off the floor and brought them to him. 

"Tuck them under the mattress," he said, his voice sounding bored.

She did as he said, even as she was aware of his physical proximity as a burgeoning presence to her senses. She moved away from him quickly and a tiny smile quirked up his lips.

"I think you should go before I change my mind and do something I won't regret."

"I..." Her fingers twisted together.

He lifted his head and what she saw made her step back. With her heart pounding she yelled for Mac.

"Mac! Mac!"

Zavier chuckled darkly. "Oh, little rabbit. I'll see you again. I promise you that."

Footsteps hurried towards the cell. Mac appeared within seconds.

"You done?" he asked.

Jhonie nodded not trusting herself to speak. Mac noted her flushed appearance but said nothing. He unlocked the cell and she rushed out. Zavier laughed. The sound bounced off the walls and followed her down the hall.

When they were beyond the holding area, Mac grabbed her elbow and spun her around. "What happened?"

"I planted the photos as you asked me to," she said, licking her lips. She avoided eye contact with him.

 "Why is he laughing like that?"

"I-I kissed him," she said. She remembered the hardness of him pressed against her and blushed. She yanked her arm away and kept on walking. 

When she was past the reception desk and outside the gates of the facility she took a deep breath. She bent forward, her hands resting on her knees. Gradually, her heart rate normalized and her breathing slowed down. Her bag hung low in her left side. 

She needed to get as far away as possible: from Sterling; from Mac; from this whole crazy situation. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder, pulling it across her thin frame.

'I'll tell Dr Scofield there's a family emergency and take two weeks off work,' she said to herself. She straightened up and began walking again. 

Meanwhile, Zavier looked up to see Mac watching him suspiciously. "What do you want?" he asked.

"What did you do to her?" Mac asked, his tone cold.

"Nothing, but I think I have a new girlfriend," Zavier said with a grin.

Mac hissed his teeth and walked away. Zavier chuckled.

Then he sobered. Sliding his hand under the soft sponge he laid his head on, he retrieved his phone and dialed a number. "Yeah, it's me," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "Initiate Operation Sentinel. No, not for me—for someone else. I will text you the details." He sent off a flurry of messages with details and instructions then put the phone back in its hiding place.

Reaching under the mattress, he took out her photos. He looked at each one slowly. "You are a pretty thing, aren't you." His eyes narrowed as they settled on one of her laughing, her head back—eyes dancing with life. He would definitely see her again.