by Lara Lacombe
He’s going to kill them, Paul realized with a small shock. And he’s going to enjoy it.
Chapter 15
Avery only caught a glimpse of Jesse before Grant stepped in front of her, blocking her view with his body. But she’d seen the gun and the expression on his face, and her knees began to tremble as the danger sank in.
He’s going to kill us. The thought registered with perfect clarity, a cold, logical realization that had the ring of absolute truth. She was going to die today.
But she wasn’t going down without a fight.
Determination filled her, cutting through the numbness of her earlier shock. She placed her hand on Grant’s back and felt a swell of love so powerful it almost knocked her off her feet. His first thought had been to shield her, to protect her from the threat with no regard to his own safety. It was the act of a man who was good down to his core, and for a brief second she wondered how she’d ever questioned that about him.
Moving slowly so as not to startle Jesse into pulling the trigger, Avery stepped to the side, away from the shelter of Grant’s body. If Jesse wanted to hurt her, she wasn’t going to let Grant get caught in the cross fire.
“What are you doing?” she asked quietly. Clearly, her earlier suspicions were correct. But this was one hell of a way to get confirmation that Jesse and Paul had deliberately infected people with the virus. What was their plan now? Was Jesse just going to shoot her where she stood, despite the fact that they were in a building crawling with researchers?
She glanced at Paul, but his bewildered expression made her think he hadn’t expected this show of force. Great. That meant Jesse was operating off-script. The man could be capable of anything.
Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, each beat a visceral reminder of the life that was once again in danger. A thread of anger began to vibrate deep inside her chest, the emotion growing more intense as she stared at Jesse.
He glanced at her, his expression dismissive. “Tying up loose ends.”
What did that mean? Had he come here deliberately, knowing he would find her and Grant? Or was Paul the real target, and Jesse had decided to seize the opportunity to do away with them all in one fell swoop?
“Where did you get the gun?” Grant said, his voice a little hoarse. “Weapons aren’t allowed on-base.”
Jesse’s features twisted in an ugly sneer. “Do I look like a Boy Scout to you?” He directed his gun toward Grant, and Avery’s heart caught in her throat.
“Wait!” Paul exclaimed. He took a step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Don’t shoot.”
Jesse lifted an eyebrow but didn’t lower his arm. “Why not?” He sounded genuinely curious, as if he couldn’t come up with a single reason not to kill them.
“There are too many people around.” A note of exasperation crept into Paul’s voice, making him sound like a tired parent. Plainly, there was tension between the two men, and Avery held her breath, hoping Jesse would listen to his partner.
“We can’t just let them go,” Jesse pointed out.
Paul walked around Grant and approached Jesse, apparently deciding to make his case from a closer distance. Jesse lowered the gun, and Avery felt the tight band of panic around her ribs loosen a bit. Grant’s shoulders sank as he exhaled, and she used the distraction of Paul’s movement to touch Grant’s back. He was solid and strong under her palm, and she wanted so badly to press herself against him so they could draw comfort from each other. But any movement might set Jesse off, so this hidden touch would have to suffice.
Paul and Jesse spoke in urgent whispers, apparently trying to decide what to do now. Avery let her gaze wander around the room as they spoke, searching for something she might be able to use to defend herself and Grant. Labs often had scissors or even box cutters lying around to open packaging, but the black tables were frustratingly bare. A glint of silver by the door caught her eye, and she squinted to bring the object into focus.
It was a small screwdriver, the kind that was no bigger than a ballpoint pen. It lay forgotten next to a centrifuge that looked as if it had seen better days. It wasn’t much, as far as weapons went, but it was better than nothing.
Now she just had to find a way to get it.
Paul’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Give me the gun.”
Jesse shook his head. “No. It’s mine.”
Avery almost rolled her eyes at his response. He’d seemed like such a normal guy before—how had he kept this side hidden for so long? Was she that bad at judging other people? Or was Jesse just that good at pretending to be someone he wasn’t?
“You are jeopardizing this operation,” Paul hissed, clearly impatient. “If you shoot them here, people will come running. How exactly are you going to explain the bodies, hmm? Dr. Jones is practically a god on this base—I don’t think people will take too kindly to finding him dead.”
“What’s your plan, then?” Jesse sounded defensive, and Avery started to tense up again. He seemed to be running off emotion, which made him unpredictable.
“Bring them with us. We’ll dispatch them on the ship.”
Ship? Her ears pricked at the word, and realization dawned. A few days ago, a large vessel had docked and there had been a steady stream of activity to and from it ever since. Grant had told her it was the garbage boat, delivering the last of the winter supplies and loading up the waste from the base. It was due to sail back to the US, where the cargo would be processed and disposed.
What do these two want with the ship? No sooner had the question formed in her mind than the answer presented itself: they were going to use it to smuggle the virus back to the States.
Of course. It was so simple. No one would think to take a close look at the garbage. If they had a coconspirator at the landing dock in the US, it would be easy to retrieve the virus without anyone being the wiser.
And once the pathogen was Stateside, they could deploy it anywhere.
She made a fist, crumpling Grant’s shirt and dragging her fingers across his back as she tried to silently communicate her realization. He nodded once, indicating he understood.
Paul and Jesse couldn’t be allowed to smuggle the virus aboard that ship. They had dodged a bullet here on-base—the virus was deadly but not contagious. But if the pathogen reached the US, it would take an unprincipled microbiologist a matter of weeks to fix that flaw. And once that happened, the virus would burn across the globe in no time at all.
Avery shuddered, imagining the scenario all too easily. Millions, if not billions, of people would die. Entire cities, wiped out in a matter of days. The world’s poor would be hit the hardest—they always were—but no one would escape the effects of the pandemic. It would change humanity and the course of civilization forever, and not for the better.
Suddenly, Avery’s concerns for her personal safety seemed small and selfish. She didn’t want to die, but she might have to sacrifice herself to keep the virus out of the wrong hands. The realization stung, but what was one life compared to the millions she would save?
A flash of movement caught her eye and she glanced over to see Jesse stuff the gun into the waistband of his pants. It seems Paul’s admonitions had worked. For now, at least.
“Let’s go.” Jesse pulled the edges of his coat together and nodded at the door. “You two take the lead. And don’t try anything.” He patted his waist, the threat clear. “If you do, I’ll kill you both and infect everyone on this base. Is that clear?”
Avery and Grant both nodded, but she could tell by the set of Grant’s shoulders he was itching to make a move. She gave his back a subtle rub that was part warning, part sympathy. She understood his need to act all too well, but now was not the right time. They had to choose their moment, or it would all be in vain.
“Get the stuff,” Jesse instructed Paul. Then he turned his gaze back to Avery and Grant. “You guys, start walking.”
She began to shuffle forward, moving at an angle to get closer to the lab table with the
screwdriver. Fortunately, Jesse’s attention seemed to be fixed on Paul and the viral culture. His distraction wouldn’t last, which meant Avery would get one shot at this. She took a deep breath and glanced at Jesse out of the corner of her eyes as she moved past him. He was still watching Paul, but for how much longer?
There was no way to know. Her heart in her throat, Avery stared straight ahead and tried to walk normally. As she passed the table, she reached out and grabbed the small screwdriver, tucking it up into the sleeve of her shirt. Her shoulders tensed in anticipation of a bullet or a blow, but neither Paul nor Jesse spoke.
“Nice job,” Grant said, the words in so low a voice she might have imagined them. She felt the ghost of his touch across the back of her neck and a sense of peace began to spread through her, smothering the panic and distress that had ruled her since Jesse’s arrival. No matter what happened, she and Grant were a team and they would fight to the end.
Together.
*
It took everything he had to remain calm and collected as Grant marched through the icy drizzle with Avery by his side and two psychopaths at his back. His instincts were screaming at him to do something—to defend himself and Avery by attacking the men when they were distracted by the cold and the slippery ground. But he knew the time wasn’t right. He wasn’t a fighter by nature, and even though he had the benefit of adrenaline and anger, he couldn’t take on two men at once.
Especially when one of them was armed.
A chill skittered down his back as he relived the moment Jesse had pointed the gun at him. Grant had never found himself on the business end of a gun before, and he didn’t much care for the experience. The fact that the weapon was now tucked in the waistband of Jesse’s pants didn’t make him feel much better; the man seemed far too eager to start shooting, regardless of any potential witnesses.
He tried not to look at Avery as they made their way to the ship. He didn’t want to draw attention to her, nor did he want Paul and Jesse to know the nature of their relationship. He’d heard the rumors floating around the hospital, sparked by his constant vigil by Avery’s side as she battled the virus. But he’d never confirmed anything, and he wasn’t about to do so now. Jesse seemed like the kind of man who would hurt Avery to get Grant to cooperate, and he didn’t want her singled out that way.
Grant racked his brain, trying to come up with a way to disarm Jesse without getting himself or Avery killed. As much as he hated the idea, it was better to wait until they were alone again—if he tried to overpower the man now, he risked a stray bullet hitting an innocent bystander.
The ship loomed large as they approached, their footsteps crunching in the thin layer of icy sludge that was growing thicker by the moment. Grant held his breath as they stepped onto the gangway; the textured metal walkway was coated in a clear layer of ice, and the going was treacherous. He concentrated on each step, knowing that if he fell and hurt himself here, he’d be unable to protect Avery once they were inside. And even though he still didn’t have much of a plan, his goal was crystal clear: keep her safe.
Getting on board the ship proved disappointingly easy. No one challenged them or asked what they were doing there. Given the weather, the crew were probably all indoors, trying to stay warm. It’s for the best, Grant thought resignedly. It would have been nice to have a potential ally, but Grant didn’t want to give Jesse any additional targets...
Paul and Jesse herded them down a series of corridors, speaking only to tell them when to turn left or right. Grant quickly became disoriented—everything was painted battleship gray, and there were no windows or other identifying markers to help him mentally map out where they were. Escaping would be difficult, but hopefully he and Avery could make enough noise to attract the attention of the crew.
Finally, Jesse pointed them through a door that opened into a cavernous room. Grant glanced up and saw that the ceiling was actually a large set of doors that could open to allow access to the deck of the ship. This must be the main cargo hold, he realized. His suspicions were confirmed as he registered the large crates lining the walls, stacked from floor to ceiling. Was this where they planned to hide the virus?
Someone shoved him from behind, and Grant took a step forward so he didn’t land on his face. Something small and hard pressed against his lower back, and he realized Jesse had drawn his gun again.
“Move.”
He forced Grant and Avery over to a large metal shipping container sitting against one of the walls of the cargo hold. So this is it, Grant thought grimly. He’s going to shoot us and stuff our bodies inside.
Grant turned to face Jesse and Paul and planted his feet. He wasn’t going to die without a fight, but he would only have one real shot at defending himself and Avery.
“Open it,” Jesse ordered Avery. When she hesitated, Jesse cocked the gun and pointed it at Grant. Grant’s heart leaped into his throat and he bit his lip to keep from showing his fear. Avery let out a small sound of distress and reached for the metal lever that controlled the doors of the container. She pulled hard and the hinges squealed in protest. The doors opened slowly, revealing a collection of tables and chairs stacked inside.
“In you go.”
Grant glanced at Paul, who had remained silent since leaving the lab. The other man met his gaze and looked quickly away, as if he couldn’t stand the contact. Interesting. Back in the lab, Paul had seemed like the mastermind behind this operation. But now he appeared content to defer to Jesse. What had changed? Was he starting to feel guilty, and could Grant somehow use that to his advantage?
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, directing his comment more toward Paul than Jesse. Paul stared at the floor, the walls, anywhere but at Grant and Avery. Jesse merely rolled his eyes.
“If we could just skip the part where you beg for your life, I’d appreciate it. I have a lot to do today, and I’m running out of daylight.” Jesse gestured for Grant and Avery to enter the container, careful to stay several feet away from them both.
The kernel of a plan began to form in Grant’s mind. He nodded to Avery, and they both stepped inside the metal crate. “No matter what happens,” he whispered to her, “stay back.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes wide. He raised one eyebrow, and she nodded once.
He gestured for her to go deeper into the container. If she could take cover behind some of the furniture, she would be a little more protected if the bullets started flying.
Grant turned to face Jesse. “What now? Are you going to shoot us both like the coward you are?” He leaned forward a bit, balancing himself on the balls of his feet. As soon as Jesse raised his arm to fire, Grant was going to spring...
“Pretty much,” said Jesse, his mouth twisting in a cruel smile. He took a step toward Grant, and Grant drew in a deep breath. One more step, just one more...
“No.” Paul spoke quietly but with authority. Jesse paused and turned to look at him, his expression incredulous.
“What do you mean, no?”
“We can’t alert the crew. Just lock them inside.”
“Someone will find them!”
“No, they won’t,” Paul said calmly. “The cargo has all been loaded. The crew won’t come here for days, by which time they’ll both be unconscious or dead from dehydration. No one will find them until the ship docks and this container is opened, weeks from now. And once that happens, no one will connect their deaths to us.” He shrugged. “It’ll be written off as a tragic accident.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Jesse grumbled. He lowered the gun but shot Grant a hateful look. “Guess it’s your lucky day.”
You have no idea...
Jesse pointed the gun at Grant again. “Step back,” he said, apparently unwilling to come closer until Grant moved farther into the container. Grant obliged, backing up until he hit a chair. He tested his weight against it and was pleased to find it held strong. Good—that would come in handy soon.
Jesse swung one door shut and began to c
lose the other, intending to seal them in darkness. As soon as Grant lost sight of Jesse, he braced himself against the furniture and pushed with all his strength, launching himself forward.
He hit the door hard, shoving his way back out into the cargo hold. Jesse hadn’t been expecting any resistance, and Grant felt a satisfying thud as the door hit Jesse’s shoulder. The other man stumbled back with a yelp and his gun clattered to the floor.
Grant’s momentum kept him moving and he grabbed Jesse, dragging the man down. They landed in a heap, and Jesse immediately began to buck and kick, trying to dislodge Grant. Grant gritted his teeth and held on, landing several blows to the other man’s ribs and head. He couldn’t let up; if Jesse managed to get away, he’d grab the gun and start shooting, witnesses be damned.
Suddenly, a loud shriek rang out and Grant felt a rush of air as something streaked past him. Avery. What was she doing? He’d told her to stay inside the container!
He glanced over, trying to determine where she was. It was all the distraction Jesse needed. The man punched him in the nose and Grant’s head exploded, a million stars filling his vision as a lightning bolt of pain sank deep into his brain. He scrabbled to hold on to Jesse, but the man shoved him off. By the time Grant’s vision had cleared, Jesse was standing in front of him, the gun pointed at his head.
“I should have done this from the start,” he sneered. “You and that bitch doctor just had to get in the way. Not anymore.” He cocked the gun and Grant closed his eyes, offering a silent apology to Avery.
I tried.
Hopefully, she had managed to escape. The idea gave him comfort and he clung to it, glad that his last thoughts were of her.
Grant tensed, waiting for the shot. He opened his eyes, determined to look his murderer in the face as he died. Instead he saw an angel.
Avery stood behind Jesse, the screwdriver clutched in her hand and her arm raised high. Her expression was one of pure determination, and her arm didn’t falter as she brought the screwdriver down, stabbing Jesse in the shoulder.