A muscle jumped in Ringleader’s jaw, and his icy blue eyes narrowed on her. “Not until we have the ring and confirm that the nanotube is in it and intact.” He leaned closer, and a fresh jolt of fear spilled more acid into her stomach. “If you and your new boyfriend have done anything to damage the bead…” His glare darkened. “It won’t go well for you.”
Trembling to her core, Paige squeezed her eyes shut and tried to slow her ragged breathing. Instead, behind closed eyes, she saw Jake slumping forward after he was smacked in the head. She heard Brent saying, “The super-virus is even more deadly than the Spanish flu that caused the 1918 pandemic.” She smelled the blood that had splattered the walls the night she and Jake had been cornered in Brent’s office. And a familiar, unsettling feeling crept over her…
When Paige was fourteen years old, her family had visited a theme park, and she’d gamely climbed on the biggest roller coaster. If ten-year-old Zoey could ride the Green Monster, so could she. But when the ride had crested the top of the first hill, a paralyzing fear had washed through Paige. Not because of the speed of the train or the height of the hill, but because she’d felt completely helpless. She’d known she had absolutely no control over the roller coaster and had been terrified. Since that day at the theme park, whenever she’d felt a complete loss of control over her life, Paige did the same thing she’d done on the Green Monster.
She threw up.
Now, scrunched between two armed men, hurtling down the highway, with the responsibility of keeping her country safe from the deadly virus her ex-fiancé created, control over her circumstances once again dangled beyond her reach. Her gut surged with the same nausea and panic she’d known when she’d seen the steep and undulating track that lay ahead for the roller coaster.
“Um…” She paused to swallow the bitter taste already climbing her throat. “We need to pull over.”
“What?” Ringleader snarled.
“I think I’m…gonna be sick.”
Her captor glowered at her, his expression pure suspicion. “Like hell.”
“I don’t know, Steward.” Beefy Guy angled his head to study her, leaned closer. “She don’t look so good. Kinda pale and—”
The sour smell surrounding Beefy Guy was the last straw. Paige’s lunch rose in her throat in a violent wave. In the last seconds of coherent thought, before she gave herself over to abject misery and humiliation, she knew she could use her moment of weakness as a weapon. A tool.
Or else her split-second decision would backfire in the worse possible way.
Turning her head and throwing her shoulders forward, she aimed for Ringleader’s lap, his hand. His gun.
“What the hell?” Ringleader bellowed, his face twisting in disgust. “Oh, my God! You bitch!” He shoved her away with a none-too-gentle thrust and yelled to their driver. “Pull over! Now!” After taking one look at his soiled gun, he flung his weapon on the floor of the car and wiped the mess from his hand on the backseat.
As the car jerked to the side of the road, Paige was tossed against Beefy Guy, who shrank away from her as if she carried the plague.
A second wave of nausea built to a roiling crescendo in her gut, and she pressed one hand to her mouth while gesturing wildly with the other.
Beefy Guy frantically fumbled to open the door.
She scrambled to climb over him and get out of the car. Again, she took advantage of her opportunity and purposely drove her knee into Beefy Guy’s groin as she clambered across his lap to the shoulder of the road.
He hollered in pain and doubled over.
Despite the heat, despite the sick pitching in her stomach, despite the odds against success, Paige knew she might never get a chance like this again. While Ringleader and Beefy Guy reeled from her unpleasant surprise attack, Paige ran.
Chapter 12
Jake tensed when the blue sedan abruptly stopped at the side of the road. This part of Lagniappe had few buildings, mostly offices for blue-collar businesses—plumbers, pest control a mom-and-pop grocery—spread out along a two-lane road amid numerous empty lots and weed-infested fields. Had he been spotted? Did the Wedding Crashers know he’d followed them?
Jake gritted his teeth and did what he did best—think on his feet, make snap decisions in high-stakes moments. Rather than pull over and wait the situation out, Jake saw what may be his only chance to act, to overtake the blue sedan and get Paige back.
He was outmanned and unarmed now—unless…
Jake fumbled on the floor under the driver’s seat. His fingers closed around the familiar grip of his P226. Thank God!
He snatched the pistol off the floor, where he’d dropped it when he’d been knocked out, and sped forward. As he approached the blue sedan, the passenger-side back door flew open, and Paige stumbled out.
Jake’s heart missed a beat. She was alive, appeared unharmed.
He didn’t question, only reacted.
As Paige ran from the sedan, Jake wheeled the rental car in front of her and slammed on the brakes. With a scream, she came up short and sent a frightened, disoriented look through the windshield.
“Get in!” he yelled to her, making his head throb in protest.
“Jake!” She hesitated one startled second before sprinting to the passenger door and quickly climbing in. “How did you—I thought—”
He stomped the gas pedal before she could finish, before she even had the door closed. She fought to hang on and shut her door as they peeled away.
When they passed the blue sedan, Jake aimed his SIG Sauer at the rear tire, fired and hit his mark. “Buckle in. This could get dicey.”
“Get dicey?” She barked a humorless laugh, then clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, man. I’m gonna be sick again.”
As he rocketed down the narrow two-lane street, thankful the traffic was sparse, he shot her a glance. “Sick?”
She nodded and leaned her head back. “That’s how I got away. I…threw up on Ringleader.”
Jake chortled. “Oh, that’s rich! Brilliant!”
“I tend to do that when I get really upset, really stressed out.” She glared at him, apparently not seeing the humor in the situation that he did. “They pulled over so I could finish my business on the side of the road, and I saw my chance—”
Jake slapped the steering wheel and tamed his laughter to a broad grin. “Darling, that is a prime example of the kind of in-the-moment, tactical strategizing that would have made my CO in the SEALs proud. You worked with what you had and used it to your advantage. Simply brilliant!”
She gaped at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I didn’t plan to get sick! I couldn’t help it! That’s how I respond to having my life threatened!”
“My point exactly. You can’t plan for the unexpected. You have to know how to go with your gut…” He cut a sly glance and a wry grin toward her. “No pun intended.”
She returned a sour smile.
He checked his rearview mirror and saw no sign of the blue sedan behind him. The grip of anxiety squeezing his chest loosened, and the drumbeat of pain in his head eased. But he knew better than to assume they were in the clear.
Rather than head straight back to the campground and risk an unseen tail following them, Jake headed toward the city limits, out to the countryside where long stretches of flat farmland allowed a clear view of the traffic behind him for many miles. Only when he was certain they had no one tailing them would he head back to the opposite side of town and their campsite.
Paige fell silent, and she rode with her eyes shut, her complexion pale, her breathing deep. He gave her the time she needed to calm her ragged nerves and work past the stress-induced nausea.
Pride swelled in his chest for her quick thinking, whether she could see the significance of her actions or not. For someone who claimed to be all about planning and organization and contingencies, she’d shown she could handle herself under fire.
He set the rental car’s cruise control and settled back, rolling the tension from his sh
oulders and realizing the sharp throb in his skull had subsided to a dull ache. Progress.
With a lingering side glance, Jake drank in the image of Paige beside him. With her tangled hair, rumpled shirt and makeup-free face, she reminded him more of a wild adventuress than the pressed-and-pleated society bride he’d met last week. He liked this Paige. She had a raw sensuality about her that she kept hidden with her buttoned-down shirts and stiff formalities.
“Jake?” she said without opening her eyes, and he wondered briefly if she had felt his scrutinizing gaze.
“Yeah?”
She had more color in her cheeks now, and he took that as a good sign. Her breathing had steadied, but new worry lines creased her forehead.
“I told them…that the bead was hidden in my engagement ring.” She opened her eyes now and angled her head toward him. Her troubled green gaze arrowed through him.
“I had to tell them something, and…”
“Your engagement ring, not the wedding ring?”
She nodded. “But when they saw I wasn’t wearing it, I told them we’d also pawned the engagement ring. That’s probably where they’re headed now. They were making a list of all the pawnshops in town to start searching.”
“You didn’t tell them which shop we used?”
“I couldn’t remember which shop we used. I was flustered and trying to give them something to appease them without selling out my country or putting you at risk.”
“Me?”
She winced and nodded. “I put the wedding ring in your backpack before I left for the hospital. For safekeeping…in case I—” She didn’t finish the thought, only sighed and turned her face away. “I told them we pawned my wedding ring, too. At the time it seemed like the right move. If I’d been mad enough at Brent to pawn my engagement ring for the cash, it seemed logical to me that I’d have also hocked the wedding ring. I figured they’d see that logic, too, so…”
“Makes sense. What’s the problem?”
“Well, think about it. What happens when they find the right pawnshop and get my engagement ring?”
“Nothing. You said in the elevator at the hospital that Scofield confirmed the bead was in your wedding ring.”
“But they’re bound to ask for the wedding ring, too. To cover their bases. They’d be stupid not to. And these thugs may be vicious, but I doubt they’re stupid.”
He connected the dots and sighed. “And when the pawnshop tells them you didn’t pawn another ring, they’ll know you lied about the wedding ring and put two and two together…”
“And get four.” She held up four fingers. “Four words. Bead in wedding ring. And they’ll be right back on our trail, except now they’ll know what they’re after.”
Jake clenched his teeth, and immediately regretted it when another bolt of pain streaked through his skull. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he had a couple of ibuprofen tablets for his headache. “You did what you thought you had to. Don’t get worked up about it.”
“I all but told them where the nanotube is hidden!”
He winced when she raised her voice. “But—” He raised his palm, signaling her to hold her volume down. “First they have to find us. We’ve shaken their tail, and we’ll go back to the campground and lay low until we figure out our next move.”
Her face brightened, and she pivoted on the seat to face him. “I know our next move. Brent gave me a name. He had a guy in the Centers for Disease Control with whom he’d arranged a clandestine meeting. He was going to give this guy the nanotube, ensuring the virus would be safe within the strict regulations and security measures of the CDC.”
Jake frowned. “How do we know we can trust this guy?”
“Brent trusted him. He said he’d vetted him and knew his reputation.”
Jake lifted a palm in agreement. “Works for me.”
“He told me how to get in touch with this William Gates and give him the wedding ring. Gates would know how to extract the nanotube and recover the virus safely for future testing.”
“And the rest of the virus has been destroyed? You know, all of this is for nothing if the Wedding Crashers can get the virus some other way.”
“Steward.”
Jake pulled a face. “Excuse me?”
“I think the ringleader’s name is Steward. I heard Beefy Guy call him that once.”
Jake nodded and filed that tidbit of information away.
“And, yes, the rest of the virus is gone. He told me today that one night at the Bancroft laboratory, when he’d known the terrorists were closing in on him, he’d incinerated everything except what was put in the nanotube.” She pulled her bottom lip into her teeth, and her shoulders slumped. “But what’s in that nanotube is still enough to start a global pandemic if it were properly weaponized.”
Jake’s chest tightened. He’d seen the effects of biowarfare both in the flesh and in training films. “So this is no ordinary flu we’re talking about, I take it.”
“Worse than the Spanish flu of 1918.”
“That killed fifty million people.”
“Yeah.”
Jake squeezed the steering wheel harder and muttered a curse.
Behind them, the sun sank low over the horizon, and power poles cast long shadows across the endless rows of farmers’ crops they drove past. Time to head back to the campground.
He sent Paige a hard look and braced himself. “Okay, tell me everything Scofield said about getting the ring to this Gates guy.”
As they drove back to the campground, Jake listened silently while Paige relayed everything she’d learned from Brent, everything they’d discussed. Everything. His expression remained stony as she revealed how Brent had gotten caught up in the lure of money, how he’d only belatedly realized the buyers posing as federal officials weren’t who they’d said. She repeated Brent’s instructions on how to contact William Gates, his contact within the CDC.
Whether Jake was simply overwhelmed by the information, as she had been, or if he was mentally dissecting the news and making strategic plans as she now was, she couldn’t be certain. His inscrutable face remained hard, his eyes distant.
Was he even listening? How could he hear they were in possession of a monumentally deadly, incredibly tiny virus sample that terrorists wanted to weaponize and show no outward emotion or reaction at all?
Or maybe he was just as tired from the day’s events, as stunned by the ramifications of Brent’s research, as boggled by their responsibility to protect the virus as she was. She sighed and leaned back against the headrest.
“I also told Brent it was over, that I didn’t love him and couldn’t marry him.”
Now Jake’s head whipped toward her, his face registering intrigue. “You did? How did he take it?”
“He wasn’t surprised. He seemed to be expecting it.”
Jake said nothing, but he fixed a penetrating gaze on her for several seconds before returning his attention to the road.
“Sad, huh?” She studied his profile in the warm light of the setting sun. “Until a couple days ago, everyone knew I didn’t love Brent, that our marriage was a mistake, except me. And my dad. He was so happy to see me marrying Brent. I let my dad’s enthusiasm blind me.”
“Why, do you think?”
She chortled in disbelief. “Why did I want my dad to approve of my choice of husband? Why did I want my dad to be happy?” She shook her head as if the answer should be obvious. “He’s my dad, Jake. I love him.”
“So that means his happiness is more important than your own?”
“No! I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what you were doing, isn’t it? Putting your dad’s wishes, his needs and happiness, before your own?”
She bristled defensively. “Of course not. I liked Brent well enough. Marrying him seemed logical and practical. We were well matched, and he was the heir apparent to take over the company from my dad, and—”
“Do you hear yourself?” Jake interrupted. His tone vi
brated with an edge of anger or frustration that startled Paige.
She blinked at Jake, unsure how to respond.
He dragged a hand over his face and shot her a side glance that teemed with energy and emotion. The contrast to his earlier stoicism left her breathless. “You liked Brent well enough? Marrying him was practical?” He snorted in derision. “Paige, you buy a car or a computer because it’s practical. And saying you liked Brent well enough reeks of settling for less than you deserve.”
She gaped at him. “I—”
“You don’t pick your husband according to your dad’s choice to run the company. The man you marry should be—”
“Someone who makes me happy.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve gotten this speech before from Zoey.”
“Well, Zoey was right. But I was gonna say he should be someone who gets you hot and bothered, who makes you—”
“Horny? Is that the word you’re looking for?” She scoffed, but even discussing sex with Jake made her skin feel too tight, hot and prickly. “’Cause there’s a lot more to a marriage than sex, Jake.”
He shot her a scowl. “I know that. And, yeah, horny works for me. That’s part of what I’m saying, but not everything.”
Her nerves jangling, Paige let her gaze roam over his hard, square jaw, his large hands gripping the steering wheel, his taut muscles that seemed as tightly wound as hers. Looking at Jake, she remembered her high-school physics class, and the term “potential energy” sprang to mind. He was pure strength, raw power and high-octane fuel ready to ignite. For days she’d felt the sizzle of attraction sparking between them. He’d have to have been dead to have missed it.
Her mouth dried. What would it be like to have all of his energy and intensity focused on her during sex? The thought lit a sensation like firecrackers in her blood.
Jake turned dark, hooded eyes toward her as if he’d read her thoughts. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and frowned before returning his gaze to the road. “The man you marry should be someone who loves you. You deserve that, Paige. You deserve love and devotion and all that happily-ever-after stuff. The house with the picket fence.”
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