Read BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn for Free Online Page B

before he could be subdued.”
    “Was the man hurt?” Bronwyn asked.
    “Minor scrapes and bruises before one of the S.S. took him down.”
    “James Schulte,” Wynth said, looking at Bronwyn, “is the sociopath who murdered everyone in his real estate office one morning then started taking potshots at passersby on the street. When they went to his home to inform his wife that her husband had been dispatched by the SWAT team, they found her and the four children murdered and stuffed in the family freezer.”
    “I remember reading about him,” Bronwyn said with a shudder.
    “Is he back in his pod?” Wynth asked.
    “The captain is seeing to it personally, sir,” Sage responded. “He said to tell you he’d be along as soon as things are settled.”
    Wynth nodded. “Do we know how it was possible for Schulte to get out?”
    “Apparently he jammed something into the locking mechanism and the door didn’t close properly. He was able to hook his fingers around the door’s edge and pull it back.
    The captain issued an order to the S.S. to check all the pod doors.”
    “I want to see Midlin in my office within the hour,” Wynth ordered, then turned to Bronwyn. “Dr. Midlin is the resident physician on Four East.”
    “Each of the nine floors has two resident physicians attached to it,” Sage stated.
    “One on East and one on West. They work an eight-hour, eight on/eight off schedule.
    30
    BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn
    Baybridge has a generous staff of physicians, nurses and orderlies, as I’m sure Dr.
    Wynth has told you.”
    “Plus an additional staff of specialty physicians on call from the local area,” Wynth added.
    “What about the North and South wings?” Bronwyn inquired. “Are those sections run in the same way?”
    “No,” came an answer from behind.
    Looking around, she watched the tall man in black walk to the far side of the table and sit across from her.
    His uniform was as black as a starless winter night and just as crisp. The creases down the pant legs and long shirtsleeves were knife-blade sharp. A thin, black silk tie at his throat matched the thin, black belt threaded through the loops at his waist. His collar insignia was a set of silver ravens. The only color on his ensemble was a blood-red triangle with twin silver slashes bisecting the center, near the shoulder seam of his left sleeve.
    Bronwyn was impressed with the man, although he bore no resemblance to any law enforcement or security officer she had ever seen. From his neatly clipped goatee, to the shoulder-length black hair tied in a queue at his neck, to the small gold hoop in his left ear, he looked every inch the part of a ruthless pirate. All he needed was an eye patch to complete the picture.
    And what eyes! she thought. Such an unusual color and so striking, especially on a man. They were golden, a rich cast of amber and glistening as hotly as that precious material. Framed behind long, sable lashes, the man’s eyes mesmerized her.
    But it was the strange design on the right side of his face that intrigued her most.
    Sweeping back from the corner of his eye into the thick strands of hair at his temple, the dark blue tattoo reminded her of Celtic artwork she had seen on the Internet, like a tribal tattoo.
    “Bronwyn, this is Captain Viraidan Cree,” Wynth grated. “He is head of our security services division.”
    Bronwyn did not expect the man to offer his hand, so was not disappointed when he made no effort to do so. Before she could mention that he had broken into her apartment the night before, he reached into his pocket and took out a badge.
    “For the old one,” he said, the right side of his mouth lifting in what might well have been a carefully controlled grin. He put the badge on the table and pushed it across to her. “I hope I spelled ‘Cedric’ correctly.”
    Bronwyn felt heat gathering in her cheeks. She looked at the badge, stunned to see a photo of a black cat. She raised her eyes to his and