Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7)

by Lynn Raye Harris

He looked at her evenly, not saying anything for a long moment. “I’m glad we understand each other. Are you ready to go?”

  She picked up her muffin and her coffee. “Yes, thank you. I am.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FLASH WAS WAITING OUT FRONT with the Escalade. Garrett had decided it was a good idea for his teammate to drive them, just in case the protestors at the lab became an issue. He handed Grace into the SUV and then went around and got in beside her. Flash met his gaze in the rearview as he pulled away from the curb.

  “Where does your daughter live?” Grace asked after they’d merged onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway.

  Flash’s brows lifted. Jesus, by the time this mission was over, the guys would know every fucking thing about his life. Nothing he could do about it now. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to know, but he’d just never talked about it before. He’d only been with HOT for a year—and he wasn’t the kind of guy who opened up about his personal life, especially when it was so damned painful.

  “She lives in Georgia with her mother.”

  “You must miss her.”

  “I do.” He pulled in a breath and focused on the traffic in front of them. “But I see her as often as I can. And we talk every day when… uh, when I’m not out of the country.”

  “I’m sorry I thought…” She shook her head. “Well, anyway, please accept my apology.”

  She sounded so formal and starchy—and he didn’t like it. She was cool and distant, wearing the armor of her upbringing, and it bugged him.

  But it shouldn’t, goddammit, because he needed her to keep her distance. He didn’t need to feel sympathy for her, and he didn’t need to want to kiss her again just to see if he’d imagined all that fire or if it was as real as it had seemed last night in the hotel.

  “Accepted.”

  He sounded gruff, but he couldn’t help it. She took her phone from her purse and began fiddling with it.

  It took almost an hour in traffic to reach Magnolia Laboratories. It was a white building, set off the road and ringed by a huge security fence. Protestors lined the fence on both sides of the gate, holding signs about animal testing and Dr. Frankenstein, among others.

  “Oh dear,” Grace said, her eyes wide as they approached.

  One sign stood out among the rest. It had a picture of a plane dumping bombs.

  Stop Biological Weapons - Arrest Dr. Grace Campbell!

  The words were written in blood-red paint, and the man holding the sign screamed obscenities as they approached. Garrett automatically reached for Grace and pulled her head down into his lap. She tried to push away, but he held her tightly as the car stopped at the gate and the protestors tried to swarm them. Security did their best, but a few people escaped and pounded their fists on the Escalade.

  The gate went up, and Flash hit the gas. Grace had grown still, her head lying in his lap, her face turned away from him. When the gate went down behind them, he let her go and helped her back up.

  Her bun was askew, and her glasses had fallen down her nose. She pushed the glasses up and straightened her shirt. That prim white shirt that hugged her breasts and made her look like a frigging librarian who was only a couple of buttons away from loosening up and having a good time.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, “but it was necessary to hide your face.”

  She blinked at him, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. His groin tightened.

  “I understand.” She smoothed her hair with trembling fingers.

  He hated to see her rattled like that, and he cursed himself for not preparing her better. He’d been so focused on the way she made him feel out of sorts and kinda raw that he’d not told her what to expect today.

  “I think it’s ruined,” he told her, and her gaze lifted to his. “The bun, I mean.”

  “Oh.” She started pulling pins, and then her hair fell into a dark, silky cloud that skimmed the tops of her breasts.

  Fuck. He really shouldn’t have said a damn thing.

  She ran her fingers through her hair and shook it out, and his cock started to ache. It was such a sexy move, but he didn’t think she realized it. In fact, he was beginning to think that Grace Campbell thought of herself as anything but sexy.

  Flash brought the car to a stop in front of the entrance. Garrett got out and then went around to open the door for Grace. Her booted leg came out and hit the ground, and her skirt lifted as she moved, sliding up her thigh until he could see a good six inches of skin between her knee and the top of her skirt.

  It wasn’t a lot, but damn if he couldn’t quite take his mind off that skin or how much farther the skirt needed to go to show him what he really wanted to see.

  Grace put her hand in his and let him help her up. Her fingers were long and slender, and her skin was cold. He didn’t like that she was cold.

  They moved toward the entrance, and he opened the door for her. When they stepped inside the lobby, she stopped and faced him, her chin tilting up.

  “I’m afraid you can’t go beyond this point. I have to badge in to go any farther. Guests are not authorized.” She pointed at a row of white leather seats in the waiting area. “You can stay here. There’s also a lounge, and Carla can show you to it.”

  The receptionist sitting behind the long white counter looked up and smiled. Behind her, television screens ran informational videos about the lab. He assumed this was Carla. He gave her a halfhearted grin and took Grace’s arm, moving her away from the desk.

  “Not a guest, Grace. And I’m going with you.”

  Her eyes flashed for just a second before she smoothed her expression. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about it. It’s policy. This is my job, and I have to go inside.” She looked at the slim gold watch—worth more than his car, probably—on her wrist. “I’ll leave at five, I promise.”

  He took her arm again and walked her toward the door where she had to badge in. She jerked from his grasp as they stopped.

  “You really can’t go inside,” she told him primly. “If you think I’m going to badge in and let you follow me through, you’re wrong. I’d get fired for that, and I won’t do it. It’s a security breach. And Carla will call security the instant you follow me through, so why attempt it?”

  He really loved letting her get so worked up, but he figured he’d tortured her long enough. He pulled a badge from his jacket pocket and held it up.

  Her jaw dropped. “How did you get that?”

  “Cupcake, I have access to things you can’t begin to imagine. And I’m cleared, so lead on. I’ll badge in behind you.”

  She gaped at him for a long moment. And then she dug into her purse and took out her badge. Her cheeks were flushed, and she shoved her hair behind her ears as she met his gaze again. Her eyes flashed angrily.

  “Do not call me ‘cupcake’ when we’re inside, you got that? I’m Dr. Campbell to you. If you embarrass me in front of my colleagues, I’ll scream to my daddy so loudly you’ll never work again in this town—do you understand me?”

  Her tone was all superior and hoity-toity again. It ought to piss him off, but he knew Grace Campbell just a little too well now to get angry with her. He knew that she was shy and that she paid a heavy emotional price for pretending otherwise when necessary. He knew that she was vulnerable, and he knew that she kissed like a woman starved. And he knew that she loved pizza and action movies and got horny during the sex scenes.

  He also knew that she was guarding her territory right now, marking her place and letting him know there was a line not to cross. He admired that about her. Grace Campbell was strong when it counted—and it didn’t hurt that she was going to be pissed at herself later for invoking her daddy like a spoiled princess.

  No need for him to get all pissed at her when she was going to do it herself.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin, and her face flamed a little more than before. Sweet… she was already regretting the daddy comment. He lowered his voice and looked her strai
ght in the eye. “I’m here to protect you with my life, Dr. Campbell. Never doubt my commitment to the job.”

  *

  Usually, Grace could hide in her laboratory and enjoy blessed peace for hours on end. Today was not going to be one of those days—and Garrett Spencer was only part of the problem.

  No matter how many times she tried to sit down and work, someone came into her office and wanted to see her. She’d been at work for over an hour and had yet to get inside the lab. Garrett sat on the couch in her office, doing something on his phone, and every time someone knocked, he stood and went to answer the door for her.

  At least he didn’t pull his weapon while he did it, though she knew he was armed. She suspected he didn’t go anywhere unarmed, in fact. Maybe not even to the shower.

  Grace’s cheeks heated as she pictured that scenario. Garrett Spencer and his tattooed body—she had to imagine the naked legs and groin since she hadn’t seen those, and her imagination definitely had ideas about his penis—walking into the shower, a pistol in his hand that he set on the counter or on a high ledge where it wouldn’t get wet.

  Then he’d soap his skin and rub his hand down between his legs, over his large, hard…

  Oh my.

  Another knock at her door interrupted her fantasies. She threw her pen down with a curse. Garrett tossed a look at her as he went to the door.

  “Who the hell are you?” Tim Fitzgerald demanded.

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  Garrett sounded much too cool for Tim’s own good. Grace shot to her feet and headed around her desk. Tim stood in the doorway, looking more than a bit surprised at the sight of Garrett. And a little bit belligerent too.

  “Tim,” Grace said, coming up beside her bodyguard. “What can I do for you?”

  “You didn’t come in yesterday. I was worried about you.”

  “I’m fine, as you can see. I thought it was better if I let the attention die down a little bit first.” A ridiculous statement considering she didn’t think it had died down at all. Well, there wasn’t currently a news helicopter in the air over the building, so maybe that was an improvement.

  “Who’s this guy?” Tim’s gaze raked over Garrett.

  “You can ask me directly, you know,” Garrett said in that low growl that made little shivers skitter up her spine.

  Uh oh.

  “This is Garrett,” Grace blurted. “He works for my father.”

  Which was certainly true.

  Tim’s expression changed in a heartbeat from suspicious and irritated to friendly. He held out his hand. “Dr. Tim Fitzgerald. Sorry for being a bit suspicious, but you know, with everything that’s been happening around here, I worry about our girl.”

  Garrett took his hand. He must have squeezed awfully hard because Tim grimaced for a moment.

  “Dr. Campbell’s safety is my number one priority. No one is getting through me.”

  She loved the way he emphasized her title, as if schooling Tim on the proper way to address her. She’d have to thank him for that later… after she apologized for using her Helena Voice on him again.

  Telling him she’d tattle to her daddy—as if she couldn’t take care of her own issues—was not a high point of her day. But he just got under her skin sometimes and made her say the most asinine things.

  “Excellent,” Tim said, as if he were perfectly happy Garrett was there. She suspected he wasn’t thrilled at that moment, but since Garrett presumably had the senator’s ear, Tim wasn’t going to be rude again.

  “I haven’t had a chance to hit the lab yet,” Grace said. “Just as soon as I finish going over my notes, I’ll go take a look at the slides.”

  Tim frowned as he brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck. She didn’t like the look on his face.

  “Actually, Grace…” He blew out a breath. “Oh hell, the director wants you to work from home for a few days.”

  His dark eyes were actually sympathetic, but her stomach fell through the floor anyway.

  “What do you mean work at home? I can’t take slides home, Tim—”

  “I know that, but, er, the press… and the protestors. Since you came in this morning, it’s gotten worse. The Washington Post just called, and CNN is sending over a camera crew…”

  Her belly churned with acid and fury. Her father announced he was running for president, and all of a sudden her life was out of control.

  Except the man who’d held a gun on her the other night couldn’t have had anything to do with that announcement. The way he’d gotten past security and been waiting for her spoke of elaborate planning, not a spur-of-the-moment decision.

  Still, it had all fallen apart that evening, and the only thing that had changed was her father’s plans. Before that, she’d still been working on sensitive viral genetics research, and she’d still discovered how to combine two strands of deadly flu virus into something approximating a supervirus. Something that the human immune response couldn’t combat.

  Yet.

  But her research meant they could find vaccines before the combination happened in nature. It wasn’t harmful to anyone because there was no way that combination was getting out of the laboratory. No one here was that irresponsible—that suicidal. The lab was professional and safe.

  And she was still the only one who knew how it was done. The existence of the slides wasn’t enough, not yet.

  “My research—”

  “Work on the paper for the WHO conference, Grace. You can do that from home. When everything dies down again, you can return. Your slides will still be here.”

  She stood there in shock—and then she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. “Why can’t the director tell me this himself?”

  Tim shook his head slowly. “He’s trying to contain this thing, Grace. It’s a PR nightmare and you know it. The shareholders are demanding answers. The media is whipping this thing into a frenzy. It looks really bad right now… and it would be best if you weren’t here.”

  She swallowed, her throat aching with the effort. “All right. I’ll get my things and go.”

  She turned away, going back to her desk to put her paperwork in her briefcase. Tim cleared his throat. She whirled around. Garrett was standing behind Tim, frowning hard. His gaze flicked over her, sympathetic and concerned.

  “If you could leave the, er, brief on the findings.”

  She stiffened. They wanted to send her home but wanted the road map for how she’d done what she’d done. It belonged to the lab because they’d funded the research. And yet it made her sick inside that he could ask.

  “Of course. I’ll send you an e-mail.”

  Tim nodded. “Great. And Grace, I’m sorry. But this will blow over soon and you’ll be back. We’ll go to Rome and present your findings. The world will thank you for it, you’ll see.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He still didn’t leave, still stood there looking at her with that combination of sympathy and speculation. “I’ll call you,” he said. “For that drink.”

  “Please do.”

  He threw a look at Garrett and then turned and left the room. Garrett’s mouth turned down in a frown.

  “Seriously, cupcake, you can do way better than that guy.”

  *

  Grace was quiet. Garrett had called Flash and told him to pick them up, then he’d hustled Grace into the Escalade and made sure she was lying down in the back with a blanket over her before he got up front with Flash. They drove away from the laboratory with only a few words hurled at them by protestors. No one realized Grace was in the car, which was precisely what he wanted.

  After they’d gone a mile or so, he’d told her she could sit up. She had, her face dark and her eyebrows lowered. He knew pissed when he saw it, and Grace was definitely pissed. And probably hurt as well.

  They returned to her town house in Alexandria. It was quiet, but he wasn’t certain how long that would last. The media would figure out she lived there soon enough, though h
e supposed her father was running interference from his end. The town house was a Campbell property, but it was part of a trust that wasn’t immediately identifiable with the Campbells. Not because they were hiding anything, but mostly for privacy.

  He took Grace in the back way after checking for any intrusion. She flung her purse and briefcase on the counter and stalked over to the refrigerator to yank it open. When she pulled out the pizza box and took out a cold slice of pizza, he grinned at her.

  “Not even going to heat it up?”

  “Cold pizza is the nectar of the gods—or didn’t you know?”

  “Of course I know. It’s practically a bachelor staple.”

  She ripped off a piece with her teeth and chewed. “Were you married to Cammie’s mother?”

  His gut clenched. Yeah, she was pissed and hurting, and he was the lucky recipient of her wrath. But she’d just been dealt a blow back there at the lab, and he knew she was upset.

  “Yeah, I was. Almost nine years.”

  She choked on her pizza, then grabbed a bottle of water and twisted off the cap. After she had a swig, she gaped at him. “Nine years? Wow.”

  He sighed as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over a barstool. Then he leaned on the counter and met her wide-eyed gaze. For some reason, talking to her about his marriage didn’t seem so wrong. Maybe it was because he didn’t know her all that well, or maybe it was because she was upset and he wanted to take her mind off it. Though he still wasn’t sure why he even gave a fuck.

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t blissful. Not all of it. We gave up when Cammie was five, I think. Then we tried to make it work for her sake. It didn’t.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Wasn’t meant to be. Would have been nice if we’d figured that out before Melissa got pregnant. Never forget the condom, cupcake. You’ll end up with a treasure beyond price, but you’ll also get stuck for life with a person you can’t stand.”

  She licked her lips, and he found himself paying way too much attention to the movement of her tongue.

  “So you’re recently divorced, then.”

  “For the past six months, yes.” One corner of his mouth lifted in what he knew was a sardonic grin. “It wasn’t the most pleasant of divorces. We fought over everything—and she won custody.”