Rogue protector, p.19
Rogue Protector, page 19
“It’s…a USB drive.” I take a pair of forceps and pick it up, holding it as close to the vents as I can but still see it. A gray dust mars the shiny surface. Setting the drive down, I reach for a small vial half-full of blue reagent and a cotton swab. In a move I’ve done hundreds, if not thousands of times, I drag the cotton tip over the drive, collecting some of the dust, then flip the cap on the vial and drop the swab inside.
A little shake, and the solution turns green. But it’s not the right color green. “That’s odd.”
“What?” Austin’s on edge again, and I shoot him a look that hopefully says calm down, now.
“This tests for presence of the Blushing Note phytotoxin. But it should be a much lighter green. Closer to lime than emerald.” Opening two more of the sample compartments, I examine their contents. With a freshly sterilized pair of forceps, I pick up a leaf sample. “I need to run some more tests, but I don’t think this is the Blushing Note. Crap on a cracker. Corey said he created a hybrid. A plant that was almost identical, but hardier. One that could grow outside of the narrow altitude band the Blushing Note is restricted to. What if this is it?”
“I don’t understand. Why would it matter?” he asks.
“Because we didn’t sample any of the hybrid plants. There’s only one person who could have possibly sent this.” Turning to Austin, I wait for him to make the connection.
When he does, his eyes harden, the hazel orbs darkening and his brows drawing together. “Corey. Which means this USB drive is from him too.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Austin
Mik’s boss, Dr. Lowenstein, eyes me with suspicion as we sit across from him. She introduced me with my former title, but he’s not convinced.
“You do understand, Mr. Pritchard, that this is highly irregular? Dr. Salim’s research has the potential to change Parkinson’s treatment forever.” Lowenstein crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.
“And you understand I have Top Secret clearance and used to be in charge of military operations so clandestine, if I even whispered their names, neither one of us would ever be heard from again?” I’m not in the mood to be intimidated, or to waste time. I want Mik back home where I know she’s safe, and goddammit, I want Wren to call with news.
“Stop this stupid posturing. Both of you. Howard, Austin saved my life down in Mexico, and I trust him.” She turns to me. “And you. Calm down. We know who sent the samples, and now that we’ve decontaminated that drive, we’ll figure out what’s on it soon enough.”
Stifling my grumble of protest, I say, “This is my calm face, Mik.”
She smashes her lips together, her eyes turning dark with need and a flush creeping up her neck. “Uh huh.”
Oh, the things I’m going to do to her tonight. If she lets me. The momentary thought is all I allow myself because just then, Ronan’s voice comes through my earbud. “Wren sent me to Ripper. Something about being too close to breaking into the Federal Ministerial Police servers to stop now. He’s tracing the shipment, but says it’ll probably take him an hour.”
Ripper’s estimates are always twice as long as they need to be, and I check my watch. We’ll at least know where that shipment came from by the time we leave here. I clear my throat, the only acknowledgement I can give Ronan at the moment, and return my focus to Mikayla. Her voice cracks when she recounts her hike to Site One, and I reach over and take her hand.
The grateful look she gives me is tempered by pain, and by the time she gets to the fire in the mobile lab unit, she’s holding on for dear life. Lowenstein looks like he’s seen a ghost, and I shift my focus to him, watching every change in expression. Analyzing. Thinking. Shuffling puzzle pieces around in my head.
“I told Li and Isaiah to take the rest of the week off, and I don’t want anyone in the greenhouse, the lab, or my office,” she says finally. “Not until we figure out where Corey went and who’s behind the poaching.”
“My God, Mikayla. I can’t believe any of this,” Lowenstein says, then shakes his head. “I don’t doubt you. Not for a moment. But why would anyone steal all Blushing Notes? Even if it was only for profit, why try to kill you and the students?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” I sit up a little straighter and arch a brow at Lowenstein. “Have there been any inquiries into Mik’s research lately? Anyone with an unusually strong interest in her work? You must have a marketing or public relations department. Any chance we can speak to them?”
“They’re already gone for the day,” Lowenstein says. “It’s after five. But I can send them an email and have them meet you tomorrow.” He rests his elbows on his desk and steeples his fingers as he focuses on Mik. “Are you in danger?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Her voice is stronger now, and she pulls her hand from mine. “Please don’t share anything we’ve talked about today with anyone. Not the details. If anyone asks why I’m back early, just say the storms got too bad for us to finish out the week.”
“And what about the shipment that came in?” he asks.
Mik steals a quick glance at me, and I give her a barely perceptible nod. We agreed on a course of action, but it’s going to require her to keep some secrets, and she’s so open, so trusting of those she works with, I know it’s going to be hard for her.
“All of the sample cases were empty. The Chiapas police apparently boxed up all the cases in my hotel room and put them in the mail. That’s why none of the standard protocols were followed.” She stares down at her hands, and if Lowenstein is at all trained in reading body language, he’ll know she’s not telling the truth.
The older man nods and when he scrubs his hands over his face, there’s a tremble in his fingers. Parkinson’s, Mik said. He needs this cure, and though I can’t get a read on him—at least not one I’m confident in—I don’t think he’s involved. “Call the PR department in the morning,” he says. “Let them know I said they should give you any information you need.”
Rising, Mik threads her fingers with mine. “Thanks, Howard. As soon as we have any more information, we’ll let you know.”
Ten minutes later, we’re back in the SUV. “Ronan, we’re headed back to Mik’s house. As soon as I confirm the interior’s clear, you can head out for the night.”
“About damn time,” he mutters. “It’s hot as fuck out here. I need a beer and a shower.”
Chuckling as the air conditioning hits us full blast, I turn to Mik. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Not really.” With a sigh, she closes her eyes and rests her head against the seat. “I hated lying to Howard. And tomorrow? When I analyze those samples? I don’t know what I hope to find. I just hope soaking the USB drive in bleach to kill the phytotoxin didn’t destroy any message Corey wanted me—or someone—to have.”
The sadness lacing her tone makes my own heart hurt, and I reach over and brush my knuckles along her cheek. “Whatever happens, Mik, we’ll be okay. Because we’ll be together.”
Leaning across the SUV, I pull her in for a kiss. It won’t fix everything, but she seems to draw at least a little comfort from the contact. “Take me home, Austin. I want to be home. With you.”
If I thought we’d be safe, I’d take Mik out for dinner. Woo her properly. Despite never once in my life having use for the word woo, with Mikayla, I want to do this right.
But as we park in her driveway, she stifles a yawn, and I take a good, hard look at her. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.” She’s out of the car before I can help her, and headed for her front door.
“Mik, wait. Let me go first.”
Freezing with her hand on the knob, she stares back at me, a haunted look in her eyes. “The cameras…?”
“Are necessary. But as good as Wren and Royce are—and they’re the best—no piece of technology is completely tamper-proof. Let me clear the house, and then we can relax. I can draw you another bath?” With a quick wink, I open her door and pull the Beretta from the holster. Now that I know the layout, it only takes me two minutes to verify we’re alone, and once I send Ronan back to his hotel, I flip the deadbolt and scoop Mik into my arms.
“Austin!” she protests with a weak laugh. “Put me down.”
“Nope. You’re going to relax if I have to take you to bed and worship your body until you don’t know your own name.”
Her mouth opens and shuts so quickly, her teeth snap together. “Oh.”
Carrying her into the bedroom, I lay her down on the bed and straddle her, sealing my lips to hers and offering her everything I am. Watching her handle deadly poison was almost more than I could handle, but it was also sexy as hell. Her confidence. Poise. The way she took control of her space and her work and just expected me to listen.
“Mikayla, I need you,” I manage as my dick strains against my zipper. “But—“
“But you also need to know what’s on that drive,” she says, reading my thoughts so easily, I wonder if I’ve lost my edge. The tight control I’ve always kept over my thoughts, fears, emotions.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask, sliding off her and getting to my feet.
“Yep.” She reaches out and cups my hard length with one hand and my cheek with the other. “Both parts.”
I’m shocked at her new-found confidence—even more than I was last night. “One day, Mik, things will be…normal.”
She catches my mistake before I do and offers me a weak smile. “But then, Austin, we’d have to move to Alabama. Or Kentucky. And my work is here.”
We. She said “we.”
The idea that she’s decided there’s a “we” staggers me, and I rub my hand over my chin, the day and a half of stubble rasping against my palm. “No, ma’am. There’s no need to move to Alabama or Kentucky. Maryland’s just fine by me.”
Neither of us move or speak for a full minute. Maybe two. Even though we haven’t said the words, I feel them. And from the sparkle in Mik’s eyes, she does too.
“Did we just…?” she asks.
“I…” Before I can figure out the right words to say, my phone beeps with an incoming text message. “It’s Wren. She wants us to call her.”
“She found something.” Mik swings her legs over the side of the bed, but before she gets up, she flexes her left foot a couple of times. Dammit. I should have known she was still in pain.
She protests when I pick her up again, but I shake my head. “We’re calling Wren from the couch. After I get you an ice pack and a pillow so you can elevate that ankle. I’m being a piss-poor boyfriend at the moment.”
With her cheek against mine, the heat of her blush seeps into my skin. “I didn’t know we’d picked a…label.”
“Honestly,” I say when we reach the bottom of the stairs. “I never really liked the word ‘boyfriend.’”
“You, Austin Pritchard, are definitely not a boy.” Mik’s smile and teasing tone reassure me, despite the exhaustion rimming her eyes. “And ‘manfriend’ makes you sound like a male escort.”
“Partner’s getting pretty popular these days.” I can’t see her face anymore. Not while I’m rummaging in her freezer for an ice pack or bag of peas or something I can use to help with the swelling.
“Partner. You realize what that means, though. Right?”
I toss a bag of frozen corn kernels into the air on my way back to the couch and shake my head. “Besides the obvious? That we’re…together?”
She lets me pull off her shoe, check her range of motion, and lay the bag over the swelling. Before I turn my tablet on, she rests her fingers over my wrist. “It means we’re equals. That you respect my skills. My passions. And I respect your instincts. Those gut feelings that have been so on point the past week.”
“Mik.” I cup her cheeks, staring into her warm brown eyes and finding an emotion neither of us is willing to name, but we agree on, nonetheless. “Seeing you today, in your element? It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. You know your shit, and if I ever make you feel like you don’t, if I ever step over you, talk over you, ignore your expertise, I expect you to give me hell for it. And put me in my fucking place.”
“So, partners?” she whispers, her eyes glistening.
“Partners.” If I could tell her right now, I would. If Wren weren’t waiting for us to call. If worry over what’s on that USB drive wasn’t eating a hole inside of me. If I didn’t need to know how safe we are more than I need to breathe. I’d tell her I love her. That I’ve fallen so hard and so fast for her, even looking at her takes my breath away. That she sees all the broken parts of me and somehow…she’s starting to put them back together.
“Call her,” Mik says with a light kiss to my cheek. “Maybe she’ll have good news, and we’ll be able to enjoy the rest of our night. In bed.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mikayla
Austin drapes his arm around my shoulders after he taps Wren’s contact card to start the video call.
I glance up at him, but he shrugs. “Wren’s…family.”
“And she’s married to—“
“Ryker,” Wren says on screen. She holds up her left hand and wiggles her fingers. “It’s been nine months and I still can’t believe he actually proposed.”
Austin scoffs. “Pretty sure Ryker McCabe’s heart started beating again the day he met you.”
Wren’s cheeks turn bright red and she stares down at her keyboard. “You have some explaining to do, Austin. Once we untangle this mess.”
Now I’m the one blushing, and I try to scoot away from Austin, but he doesn’t let me go. Wren looks like she’s staring directly at me, but…that’s not how webcams work. Is it? Usually, I feel like I’m staring at a person’s forehead the whole time.
“Mikayla,” Wren says, concern in her voice. Everything about her is…sweet. A little motherly. But, as soon as she starts tapping on the keyboard, she’s suddenly all business.
“Mik. Friends call me Mik.”
Her gaze shifts to me for a moment, and she smiles. “Family too?”
Oh, crap.
“Wren’s…family.”
Is it that obvious? That I’m falling for Austin? That we practically agreed to move in together just five minutes ago?
“Mik?” she asks.
“Y-yes. Family too. Well, my parents call me Mika, but they’re the only ones. They think Mik is a guy’s name.”
“Well, we’ve got Joey and Dani already, so you’ll fit right in.” With a wink, she returns to typing, and Austin’s tablet screen splits with Wren’s face on the left and a passport photo on the left.
A shiver runs down my back as I whisper, “Martín.”
Austin squeezes my shoulders gently. “Go ahead, Wren.”
“Well, Martín Salvador isn’t his real name. Arturo Lopez doesn’t exist either. Turns out, these two jerkwads are actually from Peru. That’s why it took me so long to track them down. The Peruvian government uses an antiquated system that…well…let’s just say they don’t build them like they used to.”
“Wren, you’re the best in the world,” Austin says. “You mean to tell me an out of date system—?“
She scowls, and Austin snaps his jaw shut. I don’t blame him. This woman has a fierce side to her I don’t ever want to mess with. “You try pulling data from a system with the speed of a 1200 baud modem.”
“Wait. That’s…ancient. We had one of those growing up. Like…more than thirty years ago. I remember my parents trying to get email messages from my grandmother in Aleppo, and they’d take half an hour just to download a paragraph.”
“See?” Wren shoots me a look I think might be respect. “Mik gets it.”
“I’m sorry. We haven’t exactly had a lot of sleep and I’m being an ass,” he says. “Go on.”
“You forget who I’m married to. Plus, family. You don’t need to apologize. Just listen. Because this is about to get interesting.”
The screen shifts, and suddenly, there are five more photos on screen. “You recognize any of these guys, Mik?” Wren asks.
“Only Arturo and Martín,” I say. “Who are the others?”
“The board of directors of a Nozanita Pharmaceuticals. They’re based in Peru. Small. Virtually unknown. The whole company is only worth two billion.”
“Only?” At my side, Austin frowns. “That’s not nothing, Wren.”
“It is for big pharma,” I explain. “The researcher I’m working with at Johns Hopkins? He thinks the drug he’s developing would have been worth a hundred times that if anyone else had realized a use for the phytotoxin first. Remember that guy who tried to boost the price of some crucial medication a few years ago? I don’t remember what it was for, but he was all over the news and went to jail eventually. His company bought the patent for the drug and the pill went from like five dollars each all the way to seven hundred bucks a dose overnight.”
Wren beams at me. “Don’t lose her, Austin. I mean it. She’s smart.”
He readjusts his arm, sliding it around my waist instead. “Not planning on it. Ever.”
Oh God. I don’t know if I can handle all this talk about forever when I’m staring at the faces of the men who tried to murder me, but Austin’s warm and solid and real and maybe this is exactly what I need right now.
“So they’re small potatoes,” Austin says. “What does that have to do with anything?”
All the pieces fall into place. “They know what the phytotoxin’s used for.”
“Gold star.” Wren claps her hands a couple of times, then zooms in on the pictures of the Nozanita board. Arturo’s real last name is Garcia, and Martín’s is Alvarez. Also, Martín is dead. So there’s one bad guy you don’t have to worry about anymore.”
She says the words to matter-of-factly they take a moment to register. “Dead?”
“Yep. His body showed up in a morgue in Tuxtla Gutiérrez this morning. At least some countries take photos. If he’d died in Peru…I doubt we’d know.”
