by Julie Rowe
She washed her hands and face, then unbuttoned her uniform shirt to reveal her bra and a multitude of bruises around her neck, arms and sides. She gave herself a bit of wash all over her torso, then contemplated the bruises. None of them looked too bad. Though the only time she’d seen worse was before she went into remission.
“Holy fuck.”
Connor stood behind her. He must have come in while she’d been examining herself, but she hadn’t even heard him.
She spun around and tried to pull her shirt back on, but he was there, taking it from her, putting his hands on her wrists to keep her arms from covering up what she could.
He looked at one bruise in particular on her upper arm, the shape of fingers very clearly marking her skin. He put his hand over the mark. A perfect fit.
“I did this to you?” Connor’s horrified gaze met her own. “Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”
“Because it didn’t hurt...much. Remember, I told you, I have funny platelets. I get bruises.”
“I didn’t think it would get this bad,” he said incredulously. “Is it like this a lot?”
“Well, no. It’s not usually this bad, but I’ve been manhandled quite a bit in the last few days.” Her sarcasm was lost on him. He was too busy staring at her black-and-blue body.
“This isn’t normal.” He traced a bruise circling her neck. “How did you get this one?”
“A guy grabbed me by the collar and tried to drag me off, but I pointed my gun in his face and he let go.”
Connor’s gaze turned dangerous. “Where and when did this happen?”
“While I was still in the hotel, during the fire.”
“What did he look like?”
“Like any other local. He yelled at me in a language I didn’t understand.”
Connor’s mouth tightened, but his hand was gentle on her neck. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“You didn’t.”
The door behind Connor opened and Smoke and River walked in.
“I’m pretty sure,” Sophia said wryly, “the sign on the door says women.”
“Who ran you over?” River asked, staring at her.
Smoke didn’t say anything, but he looked very, very angry.
“A whole bunch of people,” she snapped. “Now get out, all of you.” She glanced at Connor to include him in the order.
He left, but there was something in his expression telling her she hadn’t heard the last from him about her bruises.
Stupid terrorists. They’d already made her reconsider her sexual explorations with Connor. If they screwed up her plans to accomplish something worth dying for she was going to shoot someone.
* * *
Connor’s stomach wasn’t happy. Hell, he was fucking furious with himself. Sophia was covered in bruises. Deep, large, black ones indicating substantial bleeding.
“What. The. Fuck?” River said to him.
“She says she has some kind of clotting problem, but that is...”
“Sick,” Smoke said.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“No. She’s sick.”
Con stared at him. “She said it was under control.”
Smoke shrugged.
“Would she tell you if she wasn’t?” River asked.
Sophia came out of the bathroom. “What wouldn’t I tell you?”
Con sighed. “If you were sick.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am not sick. I’m special, but I’m not sick.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I told you, my platelets are screwed up, so I get bruises. Sometimes they’re pretty scary looking, but they’ll go away eventually.”
“What the hell is taking you so long?” Max yelled.
Sophia walked away.
Con watched her and couldn’t help feeling he’d just been lied to.
Max was on the phone when Con, Smoke and River got back to Eugene’s desk. As he was talking, Eugene came back with Jones in tow.
She looked around at all the men, weapons and Sophia then said, “You weren’t shitting me, were you, ‘Gene?”
“No.”
Con looked at Eugene. “Hair dye?”
Jones held up the bag in her hand.
“Did Eugene explain everything?”
“No,” the man said. “I thought I’d let someone with some authority do that.”
“The short version,” Connor said, “is that you’re going to become Sophia, and we’re going to stick you on a plane heading back to the States with Eugene.”
Jones looked at Sophia. “What did you do?”
“Nothing, I mean, Max thinks someone is trying to kidnap me for my, what did you call it?” she asked Max, but he was on the phone. “Creativity in working with viruses.”
Max nodded.
“So,” Jones said. “Shit’s going down?”
“That’s what we think,” Max said as he hung up the phone. “Are you prepared to take on Sophia’s identity and act as a decoy?”
“Yes, sir,” Jones replied.
“Good. Time for your makeover. Your plane leaves in three hours.”
“I’m going to need your uniform, Doc.”
“We can change in the bathroom.” Sophia led the way.
Con waited until the two women were inside the bathroom before speaking to Max. “Sir, Sophia looks like a train hit her.”
“What does that mean?” Max asked.
“She’s badly bruised all over her body.”
“You saw her entire body?” Max asked in a dangerous tone.
Sophia wasn’t the only one who didn’t always know how to talk to people. “No, sir. I saw her arms and torso. She says it’s her medical condition that’s to blame, but the last time I saw someone bruised that badly, they’d been beaten half to death.”
Max looked thoughtful. “I’ll speak to her.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“In the meantime, get prepped to leave. There are two separate outbreaks I want investigated. At this point I don’t know if either is the result of a possible biological weapon, but the speed and mortality rate of both has me nervous. One is in Northern Iraq, the other is in a refugee camp just outside Syria. I’m sending Sophia and you three to the refugee camp.”
“That might be the best thing to do, but I have a concern,” Connor said.
“Oh?”
“How the hell is Akbar getting his intel?” For him to know what he did, he had to have someone helping him from the inside.
Chapter Fifteen
“That is a question I’d like answered as well. We don’t know. We’ve done security checks on every contractor on base, as well as every person who comes on base. We found a couple of questionable people and threw them out, but tonight’s events make it clear that we have a bigger problem than we realized.”
“Sounds like you need to go deeper.”
Max was silent for a long moment. “Bruises, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was several seconds before Max spoke again. “Did you lose any gear in the fire?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Eugene, get them emergency replacements for whatever they need. I want them ready to go in two hours.”
“Yes, sir.”
Max nodded at Con and walked down the hall toward the washrooms.
“How do you want to play this?” River asked Connor.
“Very carefully, gentlemen. Sophia isn’t going to meekly follow instructions, especially if they’re for her own safety.”
“That could be a problem,” River said.
“I think it’s guaranteed.”
Smoke grunted. “Make it about our safety.”
<
br /> A grin relaxed Con’s face. “Now that is an excellent idea.”
With a plan in place to deal with Sophia’s resistance to being babysat, Con was able to focus on their preparations for this new mission. In addition to some replacement gear, they also picked up four marines for additional security. A refugee camp could be a lawless place and the likelihood of needing a few extra people with firepower was almost guaranteed.
They’d also need help with moving the supplies, Sophia’s fancy lab tent, her lab-in-a-bag, and solar rechargeable batteries to power her analyzing equipment. Not to mention food, water and additional medical supplies.
By the time he, Smoke, River and their security team returned to the lab the sun was up. As they walked smoke hung in the air, clinging to their clothing and hair.
“Anyone know if there were casualties?” Con asked the marines.
“Yes, sir,” their unit leader, Farrell, said. “At least six, but several others are missing, so the count will probably go up.”
“Son of a bitch,” River said.
Max was on the phone again when they walked in, but Eugene and Jones were there, standing in the middle of a sea of duffel bags.
“You’re taking all this with you?” Con asked.
“Nope,” Eugene replied. “You’re taking all this with you.”
There was enough gear to supply an entire Forward Operating Base. “We’ll be lucky to get it all in the helicopter.”
“You’ll be in a Super Stallion so you’ll be okay. We’re sending some additional food for the refugees,” Eugene explained. “You can also request food drops if things are dire in the camp. No one wants a riot.” Eugene glanced at Max’s back.
“Makes sense.” Con looked around. “Where’s our Sophia?”
“She’s in Max’s office getting a unit of blood plasma.”
“Thanks.” Con glanced at the men with him. “Let’s get this shit to the helipad.”
“You got it,” River said.
Con knocked on Max’s office door then went inside.
Sophia was lying on a cot, a bag of straw-colored fluid dripping into her arm. Her newly dyed brown hair looked out of place.
“Hey, this stuff going to stop the bruises?”
She glanced at him only briefly, like he was a minor irritation. “Hopefully.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yep.”
Shit, she sounded pissed.
“Are you going to give me more than a one-word answer today?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“You’re angry...at me.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“I already told your boss, I’m no Sherlock Holmes. You’re going to have to explain what I did wrong, so I don’t do it again.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Use small words.”
“You told Max about my bruises.” Her flared nostrils and pronounced frown told him she wasn’t angry. She was furious.
“In my place, you’d have done the same thing.”
Her glare nearly stripped a layer of skin off his face. “I was going to tell him.”
The look of betrayal on her face gutted him, but forced himself to appear unaffected, and shrugged. “You took too long and we don’t have time to spare.”
She pressed her lips together. “Asshole.”
“We’ve already established that.”
“I’m a big girl, you know. I can take care of myself.”
“Doesn’t matter. I won’t compromise when it comes to your safety.”
She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, like she was counting to ten in her head, then asked in a calmer tone, “The fire?”
“Six dead so far.”
She gritted her teeth. “If I get my hands on Akbar, I’m going to rip him a new one.”
“Cool, but only if I can help.”
This time when she looked at him, worry had painted lines where there shouldn’t have been any on a face as young as hers. “What we’re going into, it could kill us.”
“So can a bullet or a bomb, but that’s what we do—the shit no one else will, because it has to be done.”
“There have been hundreds of deaths in the camp we’re going to in the last forty-eight hours. I suspect there will be hundreds more before we’re done.”
Con looked at her, really looked. She appeared fragile, like a piece of spun glass, a masterpiece, until someone dropped and destroyed it.
“What the hell is Akbar planning?” he asked under his breath.
“Creating a weapon of mass infection?”
“Yeah, but what if the answer isn’t that simple? The guy’s wacko. We could be wrong.”
“Max thinks he wants revenge.”
“On who?”
“The American military.”
“A big target.”
“But he’s already created a biological weapon. His anthrax strain could kill hundreds or thousands. If creating a biological weapon is his goal, I’m superfluous.”
“There are two instances where you, one individual, would matter.” Con ticked them off on his fingers. “You’re part of the problem, or you’re part of the solution.”
The color drained from her face. If she’d been standing up, she would have passed out. “How could I be part of either?”
“You’re the youngest doctor to have two doctorates.”
“So what?”
“Did you do any groundbreaking research?”
“Not on anthrax. I spent most of my time on rabies and the flu, investigating genetic drift and mutation rates.”
“What was your thesis on?”
“Rabies. How it’s transmitted from animals to humans, its effect on the brain and what makes it so deadly.”
“Deadly?”
She gave him a look. “Rabies is nothing like anthrax. It’s difficult to work with and it can take weeks to kill. There’s usually plenty of time to administer treatment for it if you know you’ve been infected, but once symptoms appear nothing can save you. You’re dead.” She released a pent-up breath. “What if he’s picked me because I’m young, a woman and a doctor? What if his intent is to demoralize and get the American military to withdraw to a certain degree?”
“He could be trying to encourage the American military to send its specialists back to the States. You are a valuable and finite resource.”
“Or reduce our numbers to the point where we’re ineffective.”
“So when he does release a biological weapon on a mass of people, we can’t stop it.”
“That makes way too much sense.”
“If he’s anything like General Rommel, he’s got a plan within a plan.”
“Yeah,” Con said, standing. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He looked at the bag hanging above the bed. “How much longer?”
“A few minutes.”
“I’ll meet you at Eugene’s desk.” He turned and headed for the door.
“Connor?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“I haven’t forgiven you.”
He grinned at her. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
* * *
Sophia wanted to kiss the smug smile off his face. Or cry. Or scream the rage out of her body. There were too many emotions churning inside her, all of them looking for an exit, only there wasn’t one.
Her unit of blood plasma was finished infusing. Time to go.
Only there wasn’t much time left for her to do anything. No time left to make her mark or enjoy the full sexual experience with the aggravating, amazing man who’d just left.
Perhaps she should tell Max about her low cell counts, let him really send her home. But if she did that she really would leave him with too few specialis
ts to do the work he and the Army needed to do.
The door to Max’s office opened and Max walked in, shutting the door behind himself. He didn’t say anything as he came over and began the process of removing the intravenous line.
“I think you should request more specialists,” she said to him. “You don’t have enough teams.”
“Getting more teams put together is going to take time.”
“Then take the time.” She put her hand on his arm, bringing him to a stop as he was putting a Band-Aid on the back of her hand. “Akbar is only one man, but the threat only begins with him.”
He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
“We’re fighting terrorists. They’re going to use every weapon they can to inflict damage and terror to anyone who doesn’t bow down to them. Biological weapons are the perfect terror weapon. Killing slowly, horribly and without mercy.”
“I requested more staff and specialists two months ago, but there’s a shortage of everyone.”
“Is that why you’re not sending me home for real?”
Surprise made his eyes widen momentarily before he laughed and shrugged. “Yes.” He gestured at the bag of plasma. “You shouldn’t need this, Sophia.”
“I’ve never been within normal ranges in anything.”
“No, you haven’t.” He paused, then continued with, “I trust you to look after yourself while on this mission, because the men going with you need you.”
“You think the threat is real?”
“I do. Akbar is playing a lethal game. I need you to use that brain of yours to out-think him.”
“He’s willing to die, Max. He might even want to die. He’ll take risks no sane person would, and I think that might make the difference between winning and losing.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve been there. If you accept that death is inevitable, there is an intellectual freedom in it. No risk is too great to prevent the necessary job from getting done.” She knew, she was already risking her life.
“Where have I heard that line before?”
“Brigadier General, retired, Chuck Yeager.” Connor walked all the way into the office and shut the door. “You two were taking too long.”
Max grunted. “I suppose a test pilot needs to have accepted the inevitability of death in order to take the risks he does.” He turned to Connor. “What do you think?”