Virat had seen the fear in Fin’s big blue eyes. He’d always hated when a woman was afraid. It probably came from having four younger sisters, all six or more years younger than he was. He had been their protector for as long as he could remember.
Fin had definitely been afraid of something. Most of the time, she was a bubbly font of cheerfulness, but sometimes, there would be a look of almost terror that would cross her face.
He’d made a point of studying her before. He studied everyone he worked with, male or female.
He had to admit the females in his sphere were his favorites. He spent most of his time with Lacy Deane and Nikkie Jean Netorre, surgical residents in his department.
The two of them were the best parts of his day, and he’d freely admit that. Both had strong personalities, though. Much like the woman walking next to him.
She only practiced part-time, spending the rest of her day helping the chief of medicine run the best hospital in the region and one of the best teaching hospitals in the country.
Fin was very good at the human side of running a hospital, and she filled in where the chief of medicine needed her. She’d run the entire hospital when the COM had nearly been killed several months ago.
“Did you hear the news about Jillian and Rafe?”
She looked at him and smiled, sending tiny dimples flashing. “Yes. She’s beyond thrilled, but he looks a little green.”
“No doubt.” His question had done what he’d intended. Some of the fear was leaving blue eyes. Virat fell into step next to her.
Fin was small.
It wasn’t always evident—she zoomed around so much it had often made him sea-sick just to watch her. But when he got close to her, just how small she was sank in.
She and Nikkie Jean, his favorite pediatric resident surgeon, weren’t much over five feet, and maybe one hundred ten pounds—on extra-heavy days. Nikkie Jean had big hazel eyes and glasses, and caramel-brown hair that she usually had braided. Fin had blue eyes that were almost unreal looking, small delicate features, and straight almost white-blond hair.
Whereas Nikkie Jean was extremely timid until she got to know someone—and then she was a little holy terror with pranks and constant good humor—Fin was a breezy little elf type.
But they both had that same fear in their eyes from time to time that stabbed right through him.
He didn’t know Nikkie Jean’s story, but Fin’s was part of that ever-growing pool of common gossip.
Fin and two of her friends had left a college party and run into a killer. He’d attacked all three young women. Only two had survived.
The pain she must have gone through was something he didn’t want to contemplate.
She was heavily involved with the women’s charity W4HAV that operated out of the building across the parking lot from where they were.
As was Nikkie Jean. Every woman involved with W4HAV was involved because of past trauma.
The mere idea of those two women, and other women he cared about—Lacy, Jillian, Annie Gaines and Izzie MacNamara—who were in and out of W4HAV all the time, being hurt sickened him.
It was the protector in him.
They approached her car first. He wasn’t leaving the parking lot until she was securely in her car and on her way home.
She stopped walking.
Virat looked at her.
She’d paled. And utter terror covered her face. “Fin? What’s wrong?”
He turned toward her car. Underneath the windshield wiper was a folded piece of paper. And a single white rose.
Nothing overtly threatening from where he stood.
But it had obviously terrified her. He stepped closer and grabbed her hand. “Hey, whatever it is, I’m not going anywhere. Ok?”