Rogue protector, p.20
Rogue Protector, page 20
“How did he die?” Austin leans closer to the tablet and lowers his voice. “I stabbed him in the chest before…”
“Austin, I was there. Remember?” I elbow him gently in the ribs. “Not saying they’re fond memories, but you whispering isn’t going to take them away.”
He lets out a heavy, resigned breath and nods. “I know, sweetheart. I just…”
“Want to protect me. I know.”
Somehow, in the last few minutes, I no longer care that Wren can see us—or hear us. Or that she’s clearly a little impatient to tell us the rest of what she’s found.
When she clears her throat, though, we tear our gazes away from one another and stare back at the tablet.
“You didn’t kill him, Austin. His neck was broken. The stab wound to his chest would have been fatal though, because the coroner’s report shows he had…” Wren furrows her brow, “a tension pneumothorax. I looked it up, and basically, air gets trapped in the chest cavity, compresses the lungs, and can eventually end up stopping the heart. Super painful. Ultimately, someone put an end to him. Quickly.”
I’m not sure what answer Austin was hoping for. That he killed Martín or that he didn’t, but I can feel the tension radiating off of him.
“What about Arturo Garcia?” he asks. “Any evidence of his whereabouts?”
“No. The smaller airports around Chiapas don’t have surveillance cameras I can tap into, and facial recognition is only getting me so far. I am running scans on all of the main entry points to the United States within two hours of Edgewater, but if he came in like you did, on a private plane, there might not be any record of the flight.”
“Fuck. So we have no idea if Mik is still in danger. None.” Pushing to his feet, Austin starts to pace, and Wren huffs.
“First of all, Mr. GrumpyGus, I’m not done. Second, Ripper got some info on that crate that showed up at Mik’s lab, so you sit your butt down and listen.” Despite her words, she winks at me and mouths, “Men,” before Austin takes a seat again.
“I’m running full bios on every single member of Nozanita’s board. Friends, family, recent travel…all of it. Plus, searching for any patents they’ve filed recently. If they’re after that phytotoxin stuff, I’ll know about it. Soon. But my computer power’s limited right now because Ry has half of my home office torn up and there’s not enough electrical in the main room. Ripper’s at Hidden Agenda setting up a server farm so we can work faster, and he’s been on this with me since this morning.”
“And third?” Austin asks. “There’s a third, isn’t there?”
Wren’s expression softens. “There’s always a third. Mik, how well do you know a guy named Walter Ulreet?”
The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it, and tell her so.
“He works at Johns Hopkins. With Dr. Brian Branch.”
“Oh!” How could I have forgotten about him? Probably because Brian always called him Wally and I never made the connection. “He’s a research assistant, I think. Right?”
“Yep. But here’s the thing that worries me.” She leans closer to her screen, her expression grim. “Over the past seven months, he’s flown down to Lima, Peru four times. The last time was two days ago.”
“Goddammit.” Austin runs a hand over his jaw, then turns to me. “Mik, if this Nozanita is trying to beat anyone else to market with this Parkinson’s drug, they’ll be able to set the price and make a fuckton of money. Enough money to be willing to kill for.”
Austin
Everything’s starting to make sense now, and I don’t like it one bit. Scratch that. I hate it. With a passion I usually save for human traffickers and terrorists.
“Wren, what did Rip find out about the shipment to Mik’s lab?” She reaches for my hand, and I thread our fingers and hold on tight.
“It was sent from the hotel the morning after she was attacked. Paid for with cash.”
“Fuck.”
“Hold your horses, Austin. There’s more. It cost 5,337 pesos to get that box to Maryland. So Rip searched all the hotels in the area for withdrawals between four and six thousand pesos that same morning. He got a hit.” She taps her screen, and the image of the Nozanita board vanishes, replaced with a grainy security camera image of Corey Larkin.
Mik sucks in a sharp breath. “Why would Corey send those to me? He didn’t even know if I was alive.”
“Maybe he did, sweetheart. All we know about Arturo and Martín’s whereabouts that day are that they kidnapped Li and Isaiah at noon. What if they checked the cliff at dawn and didn’t find you?” I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb along a fading bruise. “It makes sense. They went after your students when they thought you’d survived. One person’s easy to shut up—or discredit. Three? That’s a hell of a lot harder.”
I pull the USB drive out of my pocket and hold it up so Wren can see it. “This was in the box with samples from the hybrid orchids.”
“And?” Wren asks. “You haven’t plugged it in yet?” When I shake my head, she mutters, “Amateurs. Hang on.” She types for a full minute, and a black box with green type flashes on my screen for a split second before disappearing. “Okay. Plug it in. I just installed a secondary firewall in case there’s some sort of virus on there.”
Mik gapes at the screen. “How’d you learn all of this?”
“How’d you learn the proper way to handle toxic orchids?” Wren challenges, but she’s smiling. “My brain works a little differently from everyone else’s. Upside? Computers make total and complete sense to me. They’re logical. Easy to predict. To understand.”
“And the downside?” Mik frowns. “I mean, if you want to tell me.”
Wren runs her hand over her wrist, and a faint clicking carries over the call. “Massive, almost uncontrollable anxiety with some OCD—obsessive compulsive disorder—mixed in. I don’t leave home much. Heck, before I met Ry, the only places I felt truly comfortable were my apartment and Second Sight.”
“And now?”
“Our apartment, Second Sight, Hidden Agenda, a few friends’ places. My hair dresser.” She inclines her head, a hint of resignation in her voice. “I’m not agoraphobic. Not by a long shot. I go to the grocery store, we’ve taken a few weekend trips, that sort of thing. I take my meds every day and just…hope for the best.” Brightening, Wren adds, “I wouldn’t change it. Any of it. Anxiety sucks the big one, but I love what I do, and with Ry…everything’s…easier.”
“Okay, Wren. The drive’s plugged in. You want to take the lead?” I ask.
“Yep. Let’s see what Larkin sent you.” But when she tries to open the file, nothing happens. “Fudgsicles.“
“Fudgsicles?” Mik asks. “What the heck does that mean?”
“It’s Wren’s code for fuck. You two have that in common,” I say nudging Mik’s shoulder. “She doesn’t swear either.”
“I do,” Wren says as she narrows her eyes at her screen. “Just very, very rarely. My mom was a teacher.”
“My parents are Muslim,” Mik says quietly. “They never allowed swearing.” From her tone and the tension in her shoulders and back, she’s worried about Wren’s response, but the redhead just glances up at her.
“I have all sorts of replacements. Spit-snacks, crackerjacks, son of a biscuit, fudgsicles… Last time we were in Boston though, we went to this coffee shop and I heard a brand new one that might be my favorite so far.”
“What is it?” Mik asks.
“Son of a motherless goat.”
Mikayla chuckles and relaxes against me slightly. “I like it. All I ever use is dang and crap on a cracker.”
“Don’t discount the effectiveness of a good crap-cracker.” In the next breath, Wren says, “Shit.”
“Wren? What is it?” I’ve never heard her swear before, and according to Ry, she only lets loose with the s-word when she’s either royally pissed off or terrified.
“The data’s corrupted.”
Mik drops her head into her hands. “We had to disinfect the drive with a chlorine solution. Did we ruin it?”
“No, no, no.” Wren waves her hand, dismissing Mik’s worry. “If anything, I’d suspect heat damage. That’s about the only thing that’ll damage one of these drives. Hang on.” A few more keystrokes, and she sits back with a sigh. “I’m sending a courier to your house, Mik. He’ll be there in an hour to pick up the drive and fly it out to me in Seattle. Make sure you ask him for the password. It’s ‘Cracker Jack.’”
“Seattle? Why?” she asks.
Wren runs her fingers through her red curls. “I could try to repair the damage from here, but honestly, having to do that over an encrypted cell connection is going to be slower than molasses in January. Even with a five hour flight, it’ll be faster for me to work on it directly.”
“You’ve used this courier service before?” I don’t like letting the drive out of our possession, but I trust Wren, and if she says she needs it, then she needs it.
“Yep. All the time.” She looks directly at the camera, her expression as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “Austin, you’re family. Like it or not. What you did for Ripper...then Trevor?”
“Wren, I—“
“Don’t,” she says. “Dax is getting a full report, and if need be, Trevor can be there in under two hours. I don’t think it’ll come to this, but Ry, West, Inara, and Graham are on standby.”
Mik sucks in a sharp breath. “Do you really think there’s that much danger? Are we safe staying here?”
“As far as I know? Probably,” Wren replies. “But probably isn’t good enough for family. I have to go. Rip’s been trying to get a hold of me for ten minutes so we can finish setting up the servers at Hidden Agenda. Stay safe, and I’ll be in touch soon.”
The video call ends, and I pull Mik into my arms. She’s shaking, and I rub her back gently, but I don’t have any words to reassure her. Things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Austin
Mikayla’s hair tickles my shoulder, and she curls her arm around my waist and makes a soft, contented sound. Peering down at her—or trying to in our intertwined position—I watch for signs she’s waking up, but she doesn’t move again, and her breathing evens out.
I’ve been awake for an hour, but this feels so perfect, so right, that I won’t disturb her if I can help it. Trevor’s already messaged me, even though it’s barely 8:00 a.m., and he wants to come to Edgewater. I guess I’m not getting out of that talk he demanded we have.
At least Mik will be able to meet him. Last night, after a solid two hours in bed discovering each other, Mik curled against me and trailed her fingers over my chest, tracing scar after scar. “I’m scared,” she said.
“Of what?”
“That this is all too perfect. That I’ll wake up in the morning and you’ll be a dream. Or worse. What if I’m still out on that ledge? What if the past few days have been all in my head? I could be dying. Dreaming of what could have been.” Her voice took on a sultry tone—the result of several screaming climaxes—and she tipped her head up to meet my eyes. “I want this to be real.”
“It’s real, Mik. You keep saying I’m too good to be true, but you’re wrong. You’re the one who’s perfect. You see all this darkness inside of me and you don’t care.”
She propped herself up on an elbow and stared down at me. “I care, Austin. If I could take that darkness away, I would. Because I know you hate it. But I don’t. Everything you are, that’s what led you to Mexico. To me. How can I not accept it when it gave me…this?” She pressed her lips to mine, and after that, neither of us felt much like talking.
“You’re thinking,” she murmurs now, snuggling closer. “So hard, I can hear the wheels turning in your head.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. Trev texted a little bit ago. He wants to meet up later today. I owe him one hell of an explanation for going dark for so long.”
She sits up, and her well-worn t-shirt clings to her breasts in a way that makes me want to shut out the world and worship her for twenty-four hours straight. Though, that’d probably kill us both.
“You’re going alone?” Fear roughens her voice, and she fiddles with the sheet.
Fuck. “Some of the shit we have to talk about…what Trev went through in Venezuela… I want you to meet him. Hell, I need you to meet him. But give me an hour with him? There’s a Dunkin’ Donuts ten minutes away on Solomons Island Road. And Ronan will take over surveillance. Either inside the house or sitting in the car out front.”
She worries her lip between her teeth, and shit. I feel like a total asshole. “Forget everything I just said. I’ll tell Trevor he has to come here.”
“No. Trevor needs you. And you need to talk to him, too. I’ll be fine with Ronan.” Her hands aren’t totally steady, but she smoothes the covers back before she gets out of bed. “I need a shower. Want to join me?”
Hell yes. I’d join her anytime, anywhere if it means I get to see her naked, touch her, take care of her. When we’re done, I’m going to call Trevor and tell him we’ll have to meet here. There’s still too much we don’t know about the men who are after her.
By the time I join her in the bathroom, she’s naked, the spray cascading over her back. The deep purple bruises have started to fade, turning a sickly yellow, but they don’t pain her as much as they did. Small victories.
“I could get used to this,” I say as I wrap my arms around her waist and score my teeth over the shell of her ear. “Showering with you every day…”
Mik turns in my arms and smiles. “Move in.”
My mouth must drop open, because Mik laughs and nudges my chin up with the crook of her finger. “Wh-what did you say?”
“Move. In.” She rests her head on my chest, and her next words are muffled. “It’s too soon. I know. But…you said it yourself. You don’t have a home right now. No apartment. No house.”
I’d hoped. Hell, our whole “partners” talk last night…we did everything but say those three little words. But I didn’t think she was ready for me to live here.
“Now it’s my turn to ask you to forget what I just said,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of the shower. “I should have—“
“Yes.”
“Wh-what?” Hope shines in her eyes, and she holds her breath.
“Yes. I’ll move in with you.” Cupping her cheek, I touch my forehead to hers. “But Mik…my retirement pay is…good. Twenty-three years in the Air Force, retiring with the rank I did… Money isn’t a huge concern for me. Provided I find a job.”
“I don’t need to run your credit, Austin,” she says, pinning me with a hard stare. “You flew us—all three of us—back to Baltimore in a private jet.”
“No, it’s not that.” I spin her around, then spill some of her shampoo into my hands and start massaging her scalp. She moans softly, and fuck. It’s one of the sexiest sounds in the world. “What I’m trying to say, sweetheart, is that I’ll stay with you. Hell, I’ll stay with you forever if you’ll let me.”
At her tiny gasp, I worry I’ve said too much, but her smile…that’s all contentment and joy.
“If you ever want me to leave—need me to leave—all you have to do is ask. If living together is too much, I can find an apartment in town somewhere and we can slow the fuck down. Try to date like a nor—err—typical couple.”
“We’re not typical people,” she says as I tip her head back, one hand supporting her neck, the other combing through her hair to rinse out the shampoo.
“No. We’re definitely not. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Would you?” A tiny kernel of fear tightens in my gut. What if she says yes?
Draping one of her arms around my neck, she kisses me, and when she pulls back, light dances in her eyes. “Definitely not.”
Mikayla
The idea of staying here by myself shouldn’t be so scary. Ronan will be right outside. This is my home. Being alone has never bothered me. Until now.
Austin cleans up the breakfast dishes—pancakes this time—and I check my email. Li and Isaiah are staying at his place—their place now—and the surveillance detail has been discreet the one time they went to the store for groceries.
She wants to come back to the lab. They both do.
Li,
You’re not missing anything at work. I went in yesterday to talk to Dr. Lowenstein, but there’s nothing else we can do until we know why Corey did all of this. You and Isaiah will get full credit for this semester, don’t worry. You’ve earned it.
-Dr. Mik
Austin pulls his comms unit out of the case and tucks it in his ear. “I know you don’t want to wear one, sweetheart, but I’d feel a lot better if you did.”
“I don’t want to listen in on your conversation with Trevor,” I protest. The idea of wearing something that lets me talk to Austin any time is tempting, but he and Trevor need privacy.
“You won’t be.” Taking out the second device, he tucks it gently into my ear. “If you double-tap the unit, it’ll send a signal to all the other units paired to the main receiver. Listen.”
Austin taps his own earbud twice, and a single, low-pitched tone sounds in my ear. “Tap once to turn it on.”
When I do, it’s like I can hear the air conditioning twice as loud as it usually is. “See?” Austin says.
The shock of hearing his voice so quietly in my ear while still hearing him from five feet away sends me stumbling back a step. “Wow. Okay. I’ll wear it. But I want it off. In both directions.”
He grins like he just won the lottery, then arches a brow. “Why? Are you planning on singing showtunes off-key the whole time I’m gone?”
“No.” My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and I fiddle with the bracelet he gave me. Really, it was less than week ago, but it feels like I’ve worn it forever. In a good way. “I’m going to call my parents. They should know…about you.”
For a moment, Austin’s so still, I’m actively worried about him. Until something breaks the spell, and he strides over to me and hugs me so tightly, I push against his hold. “Austin, I need to breathe!”
