Grimm Little Obsession

Chapter Two-Part 4 Roman

Dr. Wilson was not having a particularly good afternoon.

Roman could tell by the way the man’s jaw tightened when the administrator ushered him into the office, and by the rather impressive vein pulsing near his temple as he glanced up from the paperwork spread across his desk. Whatever had been written in the incident report apparently hadn’t improved his mood, though Roman suspected the unexpected appearance of another visitor would make things considerably worse.

“Mr. Morozov,” Wilson greeted, rising halfway from his chair. “I understand there was an incident involving one of our patients.”

“An incident?” Roman repeated pleasantly, helping himself to the chair opposite the desk. “Is that what we’re calling it? Personally, I’d have gone with a delightful introduction, but I suppose we all have our own interpretations.”

Wilson didn’t smile.

“I’m afraid I don’t find the situation amusing.”

“Clearly. You look like someone just pissed in your coffee.”

The doctor’s expression hardened, and Roman settled comfortably into his seat, crossing one ankle over his knee as he surveyed the office. Framed degrees decorated the walls, an expensive-looking watch gleamed beneath Wilson’s cuff, and a photograph of the doctor shaking hands with some local politician occupied a prominent position on the bookshelf.

Roman recognized the politician.

That was interesting.

“Mr. Morozov, if you’re here to file a complaint regarding Miss Hayes’s behavior, I can assure you—”

“Oh, I’m not here to complain.” Roman waved a dismissive hand. “Quite the opposite, actually. I rather liked her.”

Wilson paused.

“I’m sorry?”

“The girl. Hayes. Funny little thing. Terrible temper, though I suppose having your dessert murdered in front of you would put anyone in a foul mood.”

Wilson removed his glasses and placed them on the desk.

“Miss Hayes’s behavior was entirely unacceptable. She’s been working toward a possible discharge, and today’s incident raises serious concerns about her ability to regulate her impulses.”

Roman’s smile remained in place, but his attention sharpened.

“Possible discharge?”

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss the specifics of a patient’s treatment with someone who isn’t authorized to receive that information.”

“Of course not. Confidentiality. Very important.”

“Precisely.”

Roman nodded thoughtfully, letting his gaze wander back toward the photograph on the bookshelf.

“Tell me, Doctor. How’s Councilman Reeves doing these days?”

Wilson blinked at the abrupt change of subject.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Reeves. Lovely fellow. Bit of a gambling problem, but who doesn’t have a vice or two?” Roman tilted his head toward the photograph. “You two look rather friendly.”

The doctor’s eyes flickered toward the bookshelf.

“We’ve attended several charitable functions together.”

“Ah, charity.” Roman smiled. “Beautiful thing, isn’t it? People giving generously to worthy causes. Makes the world go round.”

Wilson shifted in his chair.

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.”

“No?” Roman’s smile widened. “That’s unfortunate. I was under the impression you were an intelligent man.”

The silence that followed stretched just long enough for Wilson to become visibly uncomfortable.

Roman leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Let’s try something simpler. I heard your staff mention that Hayes is supposed to be getting out next week. Then I heard someone suggesting today’s little disagreement might interfere with that. Now, I’m no psychiatrist, but that seems like an awfully dramatic response to a ruined pudding cup.”

“She physically assaulted another patient, Mr. Morozov.”

“Yes, I noticed. Very spirited girl.”

“This isn’t a joking matter.”

“Then stop making it so f*****g funny.”

The words were delivered with the same easy smile, but something in Roman’s tone caused Wilson to fall silent.

Roman watched him for a moment, enjoying the way the man’s fingers tightened around the armrests of his chair.

“See, here’s what bothers me,” he continued conversationally. “I was standing right there when your people decided to stick a needle in her. She wasn’t attacking anyone at that point. In fact, she was having a rather pleasant conversation with me.”

“She had already demonstrated aggressive behavior.”

“And you felt that justified sedating her?”

“Mr. Morozov, our staff are trained professionals. They follow established protocols.”

“I’m sure they do.”

Roman reached across the desk and picked up a small glass paperweight, turning it slowly between his fingers. It was an ugly little thing, some sort of commemorative award with Wilson’s name engraved across the bottom.

“People do love their protocols,” he mused. “Rules. Procedures. Policies. All those lovely little things that make a man feel safe because he assumes everyone else is going to follow them.”

Wilson’s gaze dropped to the paperweight.

“Would you mind putting that down?”

Roman looked at it.

“Why?”

“It’s a personal item.”

“Ah.”

He set it back on the desk carefully.

Then, without warning, he flicked it off the edge with one finger.

The glass shattered against the floor.

Wilson jerked in his chair.

Roman glanced down at the scattered fragments with mild disappointment.

“Shame. Looked expensive.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Roman laughed softly.

“Oh, Doctor. If we started listing everything wrong with me, we’d be here until Christmas.”

He leaned back, his expression returning to one of pleasant amusement, although the warmth had disappeared from his eyes.

“Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Your protocols.”

Wilson stared at him.

Roman allowed the silence to stretch before continuing.

“I’ve known men who hid behind rules their entire lives. Men who thought a title, a uniform, or a locked door made them untouchable. They were always so terribly surprised when they discovered how little those things mattered outside the rooms where everyone was paid to obey them.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Roman appeared to consider the question.

“Not yet.”

Wilson swallowed.

“Mr. Morozov, I think it’s time you left.”

“Probably.” Roman glanced at his watch. “I do have a dinner reservation, and I’d hate to keep people waiting. But before I go, I want to make sure we understand each other.”

He rose from the chair.

Wilson remained seated.

Roman was a large man, and he knew exactly how to use that fact without making a spectacle of it. He moved around the desk with unhurried steps, stopping beside the doctor’s chair and resting one hand against its back.

“You know what I find fascinating about people in positions of authority?” he asked quietly. “They become so accustomed to controlling the lives of others that they start believing their own lives are beyond anyone else’s reach.”

Wilson went rigid.

Roman glanced toward the photograph again.

“Councilman Reeves, for example. Very influential man. Lots of important friends. And yet, if he woke up tomorrow to discover certain private financial arrangements had become public knowledge, I imagine he’d find himself considerably less influential by lunchtime.”

The doctor’s breathing had grown noticeably shallow.

“Or take this hospital,” Roman continued. “Fine institution. Important work. I’m sure the board of directors would be devastated if someone started asking uncomfortable questions about how certain decisions are made. Especially decisions involving patients who don’t have many people willing to ask questions on their behalf.”

Wilson turned his head slowly.

“What do you want?”

Roman smiled.

There we are.

“I want you to do your job.”

“I do my job.”

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem.”

Roman straightened, smoothing an imaginary crease from his jacket.

“Hayes was being considered for discharge before today. If a legitimate clinical assessment determines she isn’t ready, that’s one thing. But if I discover that her release has been delayed because you decided to make an example of her, I’m going to become very curious about you, Doctor.”

Wilson said nothing.

“And I’m an obsessive bastard when something catches my interest.”

Roman leaned down slightly, lowering his voice.

“I’ll want to know where you go. Who you see. What you spend your money on. What you do when you think nobody’s watching.” His smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth. “I’ll probably become quite annoying about it. Ask Kostya. He says I have a terrible habit of taking things too far.”

The doctor’s eyes widened at the name.

Roman noticed.

Of course he did.

“Kostya?” Wilson repeated faintly.

“Konstantin Volkov,” Roman supplied cheerfully. “Lovely man. Terrible conversationalist. You might have heard of him.”

The color drained from Wilson’s face.

Roman watched the recognition settle, followed almost immediately by something much more satisfying.

Fear.

There was a particular kind of silence that followed when someone finally understood who they were speaking to. Roman had always enjoyed it. The sudden recalculation, the desperate mental inventory of every careless word they’d spoken, the realization that the smiling man in front of them might not be playing by the same rules.

Wilson’s gaze dropped briefly to Roman’s hands.

Roman grinned.

“Oh, don’t look so worried. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He paused.

“Today.”

Wilson’s lips parted, but no sound emerged.

Roman gave the man’s shoulder a friendly pat.

“Relax, Doctor. I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. You’ll review her case fairly, document your reasoning, and make whatever recommendation the evidence actually supports. No personal grudges. No little power games.”

He moved toward the door, then stopped with his hand resting on the handle.

“One more thing.”

Wilson looked as though he’d rather swallow the broken paperweight than hear another word.

“If Miss Hayes suffers any unfortunate consequences because I came to speak with you, I’ll take that personally.”

Roman’s smile returned, bright and utterly without warmth.

“And trust me, Doctor, you really don’t want to become a personal project of mine.”

He opened the door.

“Pleasure meeting you. Do be careful with that glass. Nasty stuff.”

Roman stepped into the hallway, leaving Wilson sitting motionless behind his desk.

He’d almost reached the administrator’s office when he heard the unmistakable sound of something being knocked over in the room behind him.

Roman smiled to himself.

Perhaps Dr. Wilson was having a little trouble regulating his impulses.

How terribly unfortunate.

By the time Roman stepped outside, the afternoon air felt almost offensively fresh after the stale confines of Westbridge.

He pulled his phone from his pocket as he crossed the parking lot, ignoring the administrator’s hurried farewell behind him.

Kostya answered on the third ring.

“Tell me you got something useful.”

Roman smiled.

“Oh, I got something useful.”

“Then why do you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve found something entertaining and I’m about to regret asking.”

Roman chuckled as he reached his car.

“You know me too well, brother.”

“Roman.”

“Relax. Mikhail talked. I’ll fill you in when I get back.”

A pause.

“What else happened?”

Roman glanced back toward the hospital.

Somewhere inside that miserable building was a five-foot-two menace with haunting blue eyes, a mouth that should probably come with a warning label, and absolutely no appreciation for the artistry involved in maintaining silver hair.

He touched his earlobe absently.

Then he grinned.

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Bullshit.”

Roman laughed.

“I’ll see you soon, Kostya.”

He ended the call before his friend could demand an explanation.

As he slid behind the wheel, Roman found his thoughts returning to the woman who’d launched herself at him without a moment’s hesitation.

Jacqueline Hayes.

Jax.

Vredina.

Seven days.

He wondered what kind of trouble she’d get into once someone finally opened the doors and let her loose on the rest of the world.

For the first time in a very long while, Roman found himself genuinely looking forward to finding out.