0373401965 (R)

by Lara Lacombe

  He took a step, but his head was spinning so badly he almost fell to the ground. Seeing no other alternative, he leaned against the wall of the building, ignoring the chill seeping through his coat. It took several minutes to recover, but he finally regained enough of his equilibrium to start the trek back to his quarters. His body ached from the cold and the day’s physical labors, and he felt as though his shoes were lined with lead. The bottle of aspirin in his pocket jangled with every step, promising relief as soon as he made it inside.

  Finally, after what seemed like an endless journey, he opened the door to his quarters and stepped inside. It was a few more steps to the kitchenette, and he poured himself a glass of water. His hands shook as he opened the pill bottle, and he dropped several tablets on the floor as he fished out a few. No matter. He could pick them up tomorrow.

  The bitter taste of the pills barely registered as he washed them down with a gulp of water. Then he stumbled over to the bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes before he pulled the blankets over himself.

  Tomorrow, he promised, shivering slightly as he waited for the bed to absorb his body heat and warm up. I’ll feel better tomorrow.

  Chapter 6

  Grant smothered a yawn and took another sip of coffee. It was the only thing keeping him going this morning, as he hadn’t slept much the night before.

  It was his own fault, really. What had he expected after kissing Avery?

  More important, what had he been thinking?

  He’d meant to take a little more time, for them to get to know each other again before trying to make a physical connection with her. But she’d looked so damn appealing standing there in her sweats, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and her makeup smudged from the long day. Seeing her look so unpolished and real had hit him right in the gut and ignited a need that had burned through his self-control.

  Even so, the relative public nature of the hallway had been enough to hold him in check. But then she’d invited him inside her room, where there were no prying eyes...

  He knew she hadn’t asked him in to seduce him. And truth be told, he had found her discovery interesting. It hadn’t taken her long to find a possible break in the case, which was further proof of Avery’s intelligence. It wasn’t a surprise, of course. He’d always known how smart she was, and seeing her in action now made him feel proud of her all over again. She was a truly remarkable woman, and he’d been lucky enough to be a part of her life.

  Once.

  He might have been lucky a second time, but his amateur, fumbling attempt had likely cost him any chance he might have had with Avery. She’d kissed him back, at least initially, and her body’s response had made his heart soar and given him hope that she still had feelings for him. But then he’d tasted her tears, and the unexpected dash of salt on his tongue had made him realize the magnitude of his mistake. Avery might enjoy kissing him, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  As he’d lain awake in bed last night, staring up at the ceiling, he’d been tempted to suggest they enter into a no-strings-attached affair. They’d been good together in college—things would likely be even better between them now, if the kiss had been any indication. But almost as soon as he’d had the thought, he rejected it. He wanted Avery so much it made his hands ache to touch her. But he wanted all of her, not just her body. He was willing to offer her his heart and soul again. If she couldn’t do the same, he’d rather live without any part of her.

  He reached for a stack of patient charts, wanting to check on the three men still in the hospital before Avery got started on her interviews. He’d promised to accompany her, and even though that had been before the kiss, he still meant to be there while she talked to the last three surviving men. Hopefully, she would be willing to overlook his mistake so they could continue to work together. And as soon as time allowed, they could sit down and clear the air. Even though she hadn’t said anything, he could feel the weight of their past hanging over his head. It was time to put things right between them.

  It didn’t take long to complete his rounds. The three men were the only ones staying in the hospital, and fortunately, they were growing stronger by the day. They were also growing impatient to leave, which was another good sign. He promised to spring them all tomorrow, provided the results of a final blood panel were within normal limits. He left them grumbling about the offerings of daytime television and headed to the staff break room to meet Avery.

  His heart drummed hard in his chest as he approached the doorway. How was she this morning? What should he say about last night? Should he apologize again, or pretend nothing had happened? Maybe it was best to let her take the lead—the last thing he wanted was to cause her any more distress. Her tears had always twisted him up inside, and he hated to be the reason she cried.

  He paused in the hall and took a deep breath. Just be cool, he told himself. If only he knew what that meant!

  He stepped inside and found Avery standing at the counter at the far end of the room, her back to him as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Hello,” she said, not turning around.

  “Morning. How’d you know it was me?”

  The spoon chimed against the porcelain of her cup as she stirred in cream and sugar. With a final tap on the rim of the mug, she placed the spoon in the sink and turned to face him. “I smelled you,” she said simply.

  He flushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Do I stink or something?” He sniffed discreetly at his shirt—he’d showered and put on a fresh-ish pair of scrubs this morning, but maybe he wasn’t as clean as he thought.

  She smiled, clearly amused at his discomfort. “No. But you’ve used the same body wash and detergent for years. I could wear a blindfold and still be able to pick you out of a lineup.”

  “Well...” He trailed off, at a loss for how to respond. Part of him was thrilled that she had noticed such a personal detail; surely she wouldn’t have commented on it if she was still upset with him for last night? But he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and spoil the moment. “Uh, no sense in changing something that works,” he said with a shrug.

  “Where are we meeting for our first interview?” She took a sip of her coffee and leaned back against the counter.

  “I thought we could talk to him in here,” Grant replied. He nodded at the table. “There’s room for the three of us to sit comfortably, and you have plenty of room to spread your stuff out and take notes.”

  Avery nodded. “Excellent.” She bent to pick up her tote bag and set it on the table along with her coffee. Grant watched with a growing sense of amusement as she pulled out her notebook, several pens and a small recorder, and arranged them all just so on the table.

  When she was done, she glanced up and caught him staring. Her cheeks went pink and she looked away. “What?” she said, sounding adorably defensive.

  “Nothing,” he said, not bothering to hide his smile. “All set?”

  She nodded. “I’m ready. Are you going to bring him in?”

  “Yeah.” Grant checked his watch. “He should be here any minute. I’ll go grab him.” He stepped back into the hall and headed for the entrance, hoping to snag Dave, their first interview of the day, as he walked in. Sure enough, the door opened as he approached, but it wasn’t Dave who entered. Instead a man stumbled inside, nearly falling as he crossed the threshold.

  Grant reached for him instinctively, grabbing his arms to keep him upright. The man turned his head to the side and let loose a torrent of coughing, and the deep, wet sound made Grant’s guts turn to water. He’d heard that same cough before.

  The disease was back.

  *

  Avery took a sip of coffee and flipped to a clean page in her notebook, ready to jot down anything that struck her as important during the interview. She recorded the responses to make sure she didn’t miss anything, but taking notes helped keep her focused.

  Anticipation made her stomach flutter, overcoming the brief spurt of awkwardness she’d felt at seeing Grant.
She’d spent most of the night thinking about his kiss and imagining the million different ways things might have progressed if she hadn’t started crying.

  But in the end, it didn’t matter. “What might have been” was nothing more than a pointless thought exercise that caused her to lose sleep, and given the situation on-base, she needed her rest. The lull in cases of the mystery disease was too good to be true, and experience had taught her it probably wouldn’t last. Virulent pathogens didn’t just suddenly disappear—whatever was the cause of this ailment was probably lurking in the base population, and it was only a matter of time before a new case emerged.

  Which made talking to the survivors all the more crucial. If the first group of patients had all visited the bar in the days prior to falling ill, she could start to narrow the focus of her investigation and hopefully hone in on the source of this bug. She needed to find where it came from and where it was hiding so she could protect the other people on-base.

  Avery made a mental note to stop by the lab after the first interview. Jennifer, the lab technician, had been working with blood and tissue samples, and Avery wanted an update on her progress. Was she getting any closer to identifying the pathogen? Even knowing something as simple as whether they were dealing with a virus or a bacterial organism would help her channel her energies in a more productive way.

  She took another sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon. It was shaping up to be another long day—

  A shout rang out and she jumped, spilling coffee over the rim of the cup and onto her fingers. She shook off the hot droplets and rose to her feet, glancing cautiously behind her. Footsteps pounded as someone—or someones, she realized—raced past the door. Something was going on, and given the response, it couldn’t be good.

  She poked her head out into the hall to find a cluster of nurses standing in the entryway of the hospital, all focused on the floor. Someone was clearly in need of attention, but who? Was it Grant? Her heart lurched at the thought, and she started walking toward the commotion before her brain had a chance to catalog all the reasons why he was probably fine.

  As she approached, she heard his voice, urgent and low, rise above the scrum. Relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. He glanced up as she neared the group, and the look on his face made her stop dead in her tracks.

  “Stay back,” he warned. His mouth was set in a grim line and the worry in his eyes was plain even from a distance.

  Only one thing could trigger such a reaction from Grant. Avery craned her neck to see through the crush of bodies and caught glimpses of a man being loaded onto a gurney. He moaned as they lifted him, and his body shuddered as he coughed over and over again in a racking spasm that sounded incredibly painful. Something fluttered to the floor, and she spied what appeared to be a bloody tissue, apparently dropped by the man as the staff arranged his body on the bed.

  She glanced back at Grant, who read the question in her eyes. He nodded, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach.

  The reprieve was over.

  Her first thought was to rush over and try to talk to the man while she still could. Given the fatality rate of this disease, it was entirely possible he might not survive. If she were to have any hope of figuring out how he might have been exposed, she needed to speak with him now, before he could no longer talk. She took a step forward, determination making her heedless to the danger. But before she could get much closer, Grant held up his hand and scowled at her.

  “Don’t come over here.” His tone brooked no argument and her body obeyed before she could think twice.

  “I need to talk to him,” she insisted.

  He nodded, resignation entering his eyes. “I know. But I want you suited up before you get anywhere near him.”

  It was the right thing to do, even if it did cost her time. Not knowing what to expect, Avery had brought along several biocontainment suits to use to protect herself and her staff from contracting the disease. The bulky plastic armor was cumbersome and hot, but it made it safe for her to handle specimens, interact with patients or work with the disease agent. Jennifer had been wearing hers from the beginning to protect herself as she tried to isolate the pathogen. Avery hadn’t bothered to put hers on, since she hadn’t been around any acutely ill patients.

  Until now.

  The realization that she might have already been exposed made her stomach cramp, and a growing sense of panic gripped her heart, urging her to run, go now, put on the suit, protect herself. She fought to control her breathing, knowing the fear would only make her sloppy. She hadn’t come close to the man—the likelihood she had been exposed was small.

  But Grant couldn’t say the same.

  Her dawning horror must have shown on her face, because he smiled sadly and nodded as the nurses wheeled the patient away. “Go put your suit on,” he said quietly.

  “But what about you?” A painful lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard in a vain attempt to dislodge it. The man had been coughing violently and Grant had been right there by his face trying to help. Had his altruistic instincts doomed him to a terrible fate?

  “I’ll be all right,” he said, a little gruffly. “I’ve treated this thing before without the special getup. This will be no different.” But she saw the flash of fear in his eyes and knew he was worried about his own exposure.

  “We brought extra suits,” she said. “I want you to wear one.”

  He nodded. “Lay it out for me and I’ll get it in a bit. I have to stabilize him first.” He nodded in the direction the patient had gone, and a weight formed in Avery’s stomach as she realized he meant to examine the man wearing nothing more than a pair of gloves and a white coat.

  “But, Grant—”

  He cut off her protest with a raised hand. “I’ve got to help him,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded, knowing she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. Grant was a physician, a healer by nature and training. His patients came first, and no amount of arguing on her part was going to sway him.

  “At least wear a mask?”

  “Of course,” he assured her. Then he was off, striding down the hall after the man, already calling out orders to his team.

  Avery stood rooted to the spot, still trying to process everything that had just happened. Her professional curiosity demanded she run to the equipment crate she’d brought and don the protective blue suit that would keep her safe. But her concern for Grant overrode the urgency she’d felt moments before. Would he be all right? Had the pathogen already jumped to his body, or could he still protect himself? Anger flared in her chest as she thought about the risks he was taking even now as he worked over the man. She heard the dim sound of his voice as he spoke to his team and pictured him leaning over the patient, checking vitals and completing the physical exam.

  “Why do you have to be the damn hero?” she muttered. It would serve him right if she were to drag him away from the man’s side and insist he put on the protective suit. But did it really matter now?

  Avery turned with a sigh and headed in the direction of the crates she’d brought. She couldn’t spend any more time worrying about Grant—only time would tell if he had escaped the bug. She comforted herself with the knowledge that he hadn’t gotten sick yet. That, coupled with the fact that there had only been ten cases during the first outbreak, made her suspect the disease was not highly contagious. At least she hoped not.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the image of the man coughing with Grant standing right next to him, taking the brunt of it. Had he faced that kind of exposure while treating the first set of patients? Would today be the day his luck finally ran out?

  Stop it, she told herself firmly as she opened the crate containing the protective equipment. He’s going to be fine.

  He had to be. There was too much unfinished business between them.

  Chapter 7

  Grant stared down at the patient on the gurney, a growing sense of resi
gnation filling him as he realized the man was likely too far gone to save. It was just like before, when the first patient had come back to the hospital, coughing up blood. As if to punctuate his thoughts, the man emitted a deep, wet hack, and small beads of red appeared on his lips.

  Grant adjusted his mask, hoping the flimsy fabric barrier would provide enough protection to see him through this. He glanced up at the nurse standing opposite him and noted the sheen of fear in her eyes.

  “It’s going to be okay.” He tried to sound reassuring, but based on her jerky nod of response, he’d missed the mark.

  He opened his mouth to try again, but the man moaned, cutting him off before he could speak.

  “Hurts...”

  “I know, buddy,” Grant said. “Can you tell me where?” The man’s ID badge lay flat on his chest, and Grant glanced at the name. “Talk to me, Richard.” He needed to keep the man conscious if Avery was to have any hope of talking to him.

  Richard stirred at the sound of his name, but his eyelids slowly drifted closed again. Grant checked over his shoulder, but there was no sign of Avery. He turned back to his patient, his mind made up. He’d start questioning the man himself—better to get some information than none at all.

  “Richard, I need you to focus for me.”

  The man’s eyes blinked open again, glassy with fever.

  “How long have you been sick?”

  He appeared to consider the question. Then he let out a sigh. “Started yesterday morning,” he rasped out.

  His response made Grant’s heart seize. The first patients had initially presented with a mild illness and had taken days to decline to the point of Richard’s symptoms. Either Richard had misunderstood his question or the disease was growing more virulent.

  “Are you sure?” He hated to waste the man’s waning energy on a repetitious question, but this was important.

  Richard’s eyebrows drew together. “Got a sore throat yesterday. Thought it was from working outside.” He paused, gasped in a breath with a worrisome rattle. “Cough started last night.”