Mystic Cowboy(75)

He laughed again.

In short order, a bored-sounding receptionist had her on hold, listening to the worst sort of Musak—easy-listening instrumentals of formerly groovy sixties hits. The effect was mind numbing.

She fought the artificial mellowness and focused on her notes. Leon Flagg. Horny troll. Be like Mellie. What would Mellie do? Mellie would flirt shamelessly. Madeline hated flirting shamelessly. But a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

“Flagg,” a surprisingly squeaky voice croaked into the phone.

“This is Madeline Mitchell.” That statement was met with a stony silence. She couldn’t do it Mellie’s way, but she had to do something. “I’m a deputy director of infectious diseases with the Center for Disease Control.”

“Yeah?” He sounded cautious. Good. He was already off-guard.

Rebel’s head jerked back in surprise. That old feeling of satisfaction grew in her chest. She was single-handedly outflanking two men at the same time. And that was exactly what Mellie would do.

“We’re tracing an outbreak in the western states, and I understand your lab has a few samples from the White Sandy Hospital and Clinic.”

“I can check on that,” Leon said. He sounded nervous. She could work with nervous.

“Do.” She heard the tapping of keys accompanied by the sound of paper rustling. Leon was hustling. That was good.

“Okay, we do have those samples here, but they haven’t been processed yet.”

“I need those results, Leon.” She took a deep breath and dropped her voice a notch. “The CDC would be in your debt if you could get me those results today.”

“I can’t do that. But...” His voice trailed off, and when he spoke again, it was muffled. Had he climbed under his desk? “I tell you what.”

Oh, Madeline didn’t like where this was going. So far, she’d only told a small lie. She could live with that. But she could feel that Leon was about to engage in a little quid-pro-quo, which would take her small lie and exponentially compound it. Her stomach began to turn. Nausea did not help the situation. “What?”

“I put in an application at the CDC a few months ago. I can process those samples by Monday, if...” This would be the total-slime-ball-troll part Mellie had warned her about. Because only an asshole would use a life-or-death situation as a bargaining chip.

Madeline choked back her disgust. After this, she was going to have to brush her teeth. Maybe with bleach. “Of course I’d be happy to move your application along. The CDC prefers to work with associates who can deliver results as promised.” She was sure the CDC did, so that was only half a lie, right?

“Deal. What’s your number? I’ll call you direct.”

Uh oh. She hadn’t anticipated that. Her mind scrambled for a good excuse. “I’m at the White Sandy now, following up on the outbreak.” Sure. That sounded good. ”You can reach me at the clinic.” And before he could question that, she rattled off the number. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you if you can get me those results.”

“It’s as good as done, Dr. Mitchell. I look forward to working with you. Maybe we can arrange a face-to-face meeting soon?”

Ew, ew, ew. If she were Mellie, she’d giggle and fawn and God-only-knew what when faced with this request. But she wasn’t Mellie. “Let’s see if you can deliver first, Leon.” She was stunned to hear her words come out as something not unlike a kitten purr.

“Oh, I can deliver.” And with that parting shot, Leon the Troll hung up.

Disgusting. The situation, that man—but Madeline was also disgusted with herself. It isn’t that bad, she tried to tell herself as she took a cleansing breath. Oddly, she didn’t feel much cleaner. So that wasn’t quite how Mellie would have handled it. Madeline was sure that alluding to a little career assistance wasn’t nearly as bad as promising a sex act. But when she turned away from the phone, she saw Rebel pouting. She’d never seen him pout before. It looked unnatural. “What?”

“What the hell was that?” He might look pouty, but he sounded nothing short of furious.

She felt like she was unexpectedly walking across a huge sheet of glass—in stilettos—and the whole thing would shatter with the wrong step. “The lab will call with the results Monday morning.”

This news brought little change to his face. She thought she saw a flicker of approval, but it was gone before she could be sure. “You lied.”

“Mellie told me to.” Excellent. She sounded childish or worse—whiney. She regrouped and tried again. “You’re the one who wanted the lab results.” Like that whole disgusting episode was all his fault. He might like it when she was mad at him, but she couldn’t say the same thing. “Besides, it’s not like I’m ever going to talk to that troll again.” The expression on his face didn’t change. “What?”