The Nightmare (The Mist #2) - Regine Abel Page 0,73

envision Zain’s death. But should the worst come to pass, I wouldn’t want a replacement.

“I’ve only had a few moments to talk to Faye,” Thomson replied, “but from what little I’ve seen, I think she might be exactly what Monica wants and needs. Our wishes and desires evolve as we age. Monica wished Donna in her teens. It takes years for a Wish to become self-aware and then grow strong enough to cross over. Back then, Monica was self-centered, immature, and very much controlled by her father. She wanted a pet, not a partner, and had treated her Wish poorly. Donna’s death changed Monica—for the better. She will want a more mature and more assertive woman in her life now; one that she won’t be able to step all over. I believe Faye might be that female.”

“I see… How is she going to get in touch with Monica?” I asked. “I understand the organization’s policy is to basically let the Wishes fend for themselves.”

“Correct, but we made an exception this time,” Thomson conceded. “Monica is currently on her way here.”

My jaw dropped as I stared at him in disbelief. “Okay, what’s the catch?” I asked with suspicion. “I’m not buying that this is just you suddenly being in the mood to play fairy godfathers. What’s in it for you?”

Thomson chuckled, a glimmer of amusement and admiration in his eyes.

“Actually, we owe Ms. Sheffield a favor considering the pain we put her and others through when one of our agents went insane six years ago,” Thomson said, in a serious tone that caught my attention. “However, Monica also happens to be the heiress to the Sheffield chain of luxury hotels throughout the world. While we have no complaints about their operations, it isn’t the case with many other chains. If we could ‘recruit’ her into our services, she could provide us a backdoor entrance or use her contacts to access other venues that hold questionable events in their hotels during the Mist.”

“Why do I feel like I really don’t want to know what kind of ‘questionable’ we’re talking about?” I asked, highly disturbing scenarios already playing through my mind.

“When it comes to greed, there are no limits to just how repulsively creative certain people—who do not deserve to be called human—can get,” Thomson said in a grim tone. “It is one of the many things the Squad will be able to help eradicate if we—”

“YOU DARE!” Zain shouted.

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden outburst. Although muffled, the vicious threat in his voice was unmistakable. I rushed back inside the room—Thomson on my heels—and found Anika and her assistant cowering away from Zain. Leaning on his elbow and holding his side with the other hand, my man was snarling at the doctor with murder in his eyes. Had he not been hurt, I believed he would have made mincemeat out of her.

“Zain! Calm down!” I said, rushing to his side, while casting an inquisitive look at Anika.

“They touched me!” Zain hissed with outrage. “They were rubbing their hands all over me.”

My brain froze for a split second. Surely, he didn’t mean… Anika rolled her eyes like she couldn’t believe he’d actually said that. A quick glance at his body showed Zain was still wearing his undies, and the white cream smeared on his chest matched the medical ointment in the container on the tray next to his bed.

“You mean they were applying this cream on you?” I asked. “That’s… normal. They’re trying to make you better.”

Shock, outrage, and betrayal flashed over Zain’s bruised face in quick succession.

“You are fine with another female touching what’s yours?” Zain asked me in a dangerously low voice, filled with a mix of hurt and anger.

“Oh, Zain,” I said in a soothing voice. “Dr. Chandra isn’t touching you in a sexual way. I would have a problem with that. But she’s not.” I pointed my index finger at the pot of ointment. “This will reduce the inflammation and swelling, and help your bruises heal faster. The only way to apply it is by gently rubbing it on your skin. I, and everyone else here, want you to feel better and not be in unnecessary pain.”

Although my words somewhat appeased him, he kept glaring at the two medical professionals like they had stolen his lunch money.

“I don’t care. No female touches me like that, but you,” he grumbled.

This time, I couldn’t help but smile. My man was being silly, but how could a woman