No one had tried to access the car.
He dropped to his knees and checked the undercarriage.
All clear too.
He stifled a grin; he could imagine Sofia rolling her eyes at him.
Kyle pushed back to his feet and waved her over before sliding into the driver’s seat. He turned the key in the ignition and adjusted the controls until heat blasted through the air vents.
Bundled in a heavy winter coat, she emerged from the town house and locked the door behind her. She climbed into the passenger seat and tossed him a narrow-eyed glance. “Did you honestly expect the car to blow up?”
“Happened once or twice before. Wasn’t pretty. If you survive it, the ringing in your head lasts for days. Here, keep warm while I check the door.”
“I locked it.”
He ignored her. Locking the door was not the same thing as securing it against evidence of entry. He worked quickly before the tips of his fingers became clumsy from cold. He was back in the car within two minutes.
“Got everything you need?” he asked. He searched her face but could not find any evidence of the miserable woman who had sat beside him in the room where her parents died.
Sofia’s eyes were clear and her mouth set in a firm line. She patted the pocket of her denim jeans. “Yup.”
He programmed the address for Johns Hopkins Hospital into the GPS and pulled out of the parking lot. For several minutes, they drove in silence until Kyle broke it with, “What do you think we’ll find there?”
“Answers.”
He shook his head. “If we do, this will go down in history as the easiest case I’ve ever been on.”
“Easiest? Four people are dead.”
“That’s a small number, considering the Rue Marcha’s involved.”
She pressed her lips together. “Do you think more people are going to die?”
He shrugged. Lies were easy, but he did not want to make promises he could not keep.
“I don’t want people to get hurt,” she said.
“I think that’s inevitable now. The only question is who is going to get hurt.” A muscle twitched in his scruffy jaw. “I won’t lie to you, Sofia. It’s probably going to be touch-and-go for a while until we figure out what’s going on, but I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”
She turned to him and flashed a smile. “Us.”
“What?”
“Do everything you can to keep both of us safe.”
Heat crept under his skin. Did she trust him that much?
The glow in her eyes told him she did.
He nodded and said the only thing he could, even though the guilt of the lie tore at him. “Yeah. We’ll both get out okay.”
Chapter 7
The bright and sunny day in Washington, D.C., conceded to heavy clouds by the time Sofia and Kyle arrived in Baltimore. The gray sky, nevertheless, did not detract from the majestic sight of the Queen Anne-style domed administration building in front of Johns Hopkins Hospital. Built of red brick and trimmed with blue sandstone and molded terra cotta, the core of the hospital was surrounded by towering modern buildings linked by aerial bridges. The hospital sprawled over twenty-two acres, but like many first-time visitors, Sofia and Kyle marched up the steps of the administration building and entered its bustling lobby.
Kyle dug out his smartphone to connect with the Hopkins contact provided by Danyael Sabre. Meanwhile, Sofia stared up into the serene face and outstretched arms of the eleven-foot Christ statue placed on a pedestal in the center of the lobby, beneath the apex of the dome. A woman and child paused in front of the statue. The woman genuflected, tugging the child down beside her. Her fingers tapped her head and chest in the sign of the cross; her whispered prayer was too soft to hear.
The tears that leaked out from beneath her closed eyelids, however, needed no translation.
A thin line separated hope from desperation.
The line that separated courage from stupidity was no thicker.
Sofia could only hope that it was the former and not the latter that inspired her search for the data, and the truth embedded in the microchip.
“Miss Rios?”
She spun around as a middle-aged African-American man strode toward her. His graying hair was cropped short, his stomach slightly pudgy. He wore a genial smile. “Dr. Keith Henderson.” He cast an affectionate look at the statue. “I see you’re getting acquainted with ‘The Divine Healer.’ Carrara marble. It’s an exact copy of the ‘Christus Consolator’ sculpture in Copenhagen.” With an absent-minded gesture, he rubbed the statue’s toes with one hand and extended the other to Sofia. “Dr. Sabre called and said you’re a first-year graduate nursing student.”
Sofia smiled. “Yes, I’m at UNC.”
“Excellent program. So, Danyael mentioned you’re looking for access to a genetics research terminal to analyze a microchip?”
“Yes, I am. Oh, and this is Kyle Norwood.” She turned to introduce the man hulking behind her.
The doctor offered his hand. “Glad to meet you. Please come with me.” He led the way down a maze of corridors, weaving with ease through endless streams of people headed in every direction. “And how is Danyael doing?”
“Uh, fine. We just saw him this morning. Are you a geneticist? Is that how you know Danyael?”
“Oh no. I’m head of the cardiology department and a faculty at the medical school. Danyael was one of my students. I had always hoped he would specialize in cardiology, but he chose family medicine instead.” Henderson’s shoulders heaved. His huff of breath was tinged with regret. “He was one of my best students.”
Kyle cut in. “Wouldn’t he be, just based on the things he can do with his mutant powers?”
Sofia shot him a narrow-eyed glance. Surely it hadn’t been rancor she had heard in Kyle’s voice. Why did he hate Danyael?
Henderson looked at Kyle. “You’re referring to his empathic healing powers, of course. He hardly used it in medical school. If and when he did, it was an emergency, and all other conventional means had failed. His powers aren’t without cost—he heals by absorbing sickness, injury, and pain—and he can’t handle heart and brain injuries, not without risking death himself. In cardiology and neurosurgery, we always knew it was Danyael’s skill as a physician that carried him through, and not his fancy mutant powers.”
The doctor paused in front of a door and held his key card up against the security panel beside the door. The lock clicked. He pressed down on the door handle, pushed the door open, and ushered Sofia and Kyle in.
The room contained two computer terminals flanked by small pieces of electronic equipment. Henderson walked past Sofia and flicked switches to turn the equipment on. “This is the microchip reader. The output will display on the terminal. Do you know how to use it?”
Sofia nodded.
“All right, I’ll leave you here, then. You have my number. Call me if you need anything, and let me know when you head out. Just close the door when you leave; it locks automatically.”
“Thank you, Dr. Henderson.” Sofia extended her hand.
“Not a problem. Give my regards to Danyael, won’t you?” He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd flowing through the corridors of Johns Hopkins Hospital.
Sofia seated herself at the terminal as Kyle closed the door.
“Good, it locks from the inside,” Kyle said. “That was a lot of trust.”
“Who, the doctor?”
“Yes, leaving us alone to analyze a microchip when he doesn’t know what’s on it.”
Sofia rolled her eyes as she moved her fingers across the blank screen, activating the monitor and the terminal with a simple touch. “Not everyone in the world has paranoia honed to an art form like you do. Besides, it’s just information.”
Kyle placed his hands down on either side of her, trapping her against the computer, and leaned down. His breath was warm against her cheek. “My darling Sofia…”
A shiver, not of fear, quiver
ed up her spine.
His voice, pitched low, twisted her stomach into knots of anticipation. “There’s no such thing as ‘just information.’ With a strike, a blade kills once. A bullet takes only one life. Information is far more lethal, its range far wider. Once released, it can never be recalled.”
Damn. He was talking about blades, bullets, and information, and he had managed to turn her into a fluttering ball of female hormones. She closed her eyes, released her breath in a trembling sigh, and willed her toes to uncurl. “For-forbidden knowledge.”
She could feel him smile against her. “Yes. Forbidden fruit tastes sweetest. I wonder, what do you taste like, Sofia?” His mouth nuzzled her cheek.
A soft sigh washed out of her as she closed her eyes and sank into sensation. “I—”
A faint beeping noise intruded on her consciousness.
Her eyes flashed open. She drew back sharply and stared at the terminal. The screen was fully illuminated; the terminal was waiting for instructions from her.
Saved by the…computer?
She felt like smacking her hand against the computer’s cold, unfeeling surface. “I…uh…” Carefully avoiding Kyle’s penetrating stare, she swiveled her chair around to face the terminal. Her fingers trembled slightly against the computer keyboard.
“Sofia.” With a gentle hand, he tipped her face up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Get used to wanting me. God knows, I want you.”
His words were quietly spoken; they could have been a promise or a threat.
The unfamiliar sensation of being desired forced her to draw a deep breath. She turned away and fixed upon the monitor as if its glare shone upon a safe track away from the uncertain path that led to Kyle Norwood.
It was nearly impossible to yank her mind fully off the man who stood behind her, but Sofia tried regardless. She dug out the plastic-encased microchip from the pocket of her denim jeans, flipped open the cover, and extracted the microchip before sliding it into the slot on the terminal.
The hum of the machine was the only sound in the room.
Sofia broke through the awkward white noise. “What did the Proficere scientists say they were transferring?”
Kyle’s presence behind her shifted. He stood close, much too close. She twitched and leaned forward to increase the distance between them, but he chuckled, as if he were aware of what she was doing. “Genetic analysis. They didn’t specify what.”
Moments later, a string of four seemingly random, repeating letters appeared across the screen—G, A, T, C. Guanine, adenine, thymine, and cytosine, the four nucleobases that formed DNA.
“At least that much was the truth,” Sofia conceded. She chewed the inside of her cheek. Damn, it was absurdly difficult to focus on what she was doing with Kyle all but breathing down her neck. She shook her head and touched the screen to drag the segment of genetic code toward an icon labeled “Analyze international genomic databases.”
A message flashed across the screen, demanding proof of identity and security clearance.
Sofia frowned. “I guess we have to call the professor.”
Kyle peered over her head and pointed to another icon. His other hand landed casually, or perhaps not so casually, on her shoulder. “What about that one?”
“Local genomic databases?” Sofia tried not to give in to the thrill of pleasure that raced down her spine at his touch. She dragged the genetic code to the second icon, which accepted it without a fuss. The terminal whirred with activity. She also sent the data readout to the printer, which spewed sheets of paper covered with tiny letters.
Sofia sank into her seat. “It should be good enough. Hopkins probably has one of the largest genomic databases in the country, and we can access it locally from this terminal. The only problem is that it’ll take time to match the sequence on the microchip to samples in the database, and even then, it may not be exact.”
Kyle shook his head. “Given Proficere’s tendency to dabble in illegal research, I wouldn’t count on finding a perfect match.”
“But finding a close match on a chromosome would narrow it down, wouldn’t it? At least, it should be enough for a solid guess.”
Kyle snorted. “A guess won’t get you very far.”
“Look, I’m a first-year nursing student. I’m the farthest thing from an expert, but if we have something that looks suspicious, we can probably find some kind of expert to help us take the analysis to the next level.”
“It’s a small community of experts we’d be looking at. Chances are they all know each other’s research. How badly do you want to risk discovery?”
Sofia stiffened at the note of caution in his voice. “What are you saying, Kyle?”
“That if this looks bad, we turn it over to Zara.”
She swiveled around in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, and frowned at him. “Are you afraid?”
“You’re a student, and I’m ex-military.” He gestured to the computer terminal. “We’re dealing with genetic codes here. We’re out of our league, and that’s the fastest way to get into trouble.”
“Zara’s not a geneticist, either. What makes her any more qualified than we are?”
“Her ability to manipulate both people and systems, and her talent for getting out of trouble. She can channel resources and call in favors we can’t.”
Sofia shook her head. “I don’t trust Zara. She’s only looking out for herself. What about Danyael? He’s helped us twice now.”
“I don’t trust Danyael, so where does that leave us?”
She scowled at Kyle. “You have trust issues, you know that?”
He poked a finger at his chest. “I have trust issues? You just said that you don’t trust Zara.”
She shot to her feet. Standing up helped close the height difference, but he was still an entire foot taller than she was. “I have reasons. Did you hear what she said at the clinic? She brought their daughter, a baby, to the clinic to force Danyael to defend her if someone attacked him. What kind of mother does that to her own child?”
“What sort of man needs to be compelled to defend himself?” Kyle retorted.
“Do you read the news? They say he can kill with a touch. He defends himself, people die.”
“Do you hear yourself? You just met him this morning, and now you’re coming to his defense like you’re the president of his fan club. He’s an alpha empath. He controls emotions. You can’t trust what you feel about him, or anything you feel when you’re around him.”
She thought of Danyael—his tired eyes, his weary smile. The compassion she felt for him came naturally. Heck, if Danyael had tried to influence them with his mutant powers, Kyle would have become co-president of Danyael’s fan club. But he wasn’t.
Sofia’s scowl deepened. “You’re paranoid.”
“Zara, at least, is human. Danyael’s a goddamned mutant. You can’t trust them, any of them.”
She flinched. His verbal slap was worse than a physical blow. “How can you lump all mutants into one category? That makes you no better than a sexist or a racist.”
“Why are you defending them? You’ve seen what they’ve done to society. The mutants, and those in-vitros too, have made it nearly impossible for a naturally born human to succeed. Their unfair advantages—”
“What unfair advantages? You heard what the doctor, Henderson, said. Danyael heals at a price, and other mutants—”
The computer terminal beeped.
Sofia spun around. “It found something.” She sat in front of the terminal to read the report on the screen. Her heartbeat raced. “Actually…three sections of DNA from the microchip look similar to DNA markers on chromosomes eight, sixteen, and twenty-two.”
“Three?” Kyle echoed. “What do those sections do?”
“I don’t know yet.” Sofia tapped her fingers on the touch-sensitive screen. The image changed to display close-up pictures of chromosomes marked by distinctive dark bands. Her finger traced the summary of the analysis. “Looks like all thr
ee DNA sections are tied to heart function—”
The screen turned off.
She jerked back. “What happened? I didn’t do anything.” Sofia leaned down to confirm that the terminal was plugged into the power outlet and that none of the connections were loose. She flicked the switch repeatedly, but the screen remained black.
Kyle’s hand wrapped around her arm and yanked her to her feet. “We’re getting out of here.”
“What?”
“The database is probably monitored, and your search triggered an alarm that shut the terminal down. You can bet whoever’s monitoring the database is on his way over right now.”
Damn it. She pulled the microchip from the terminal, seized the printouts from the printer, and shoved both into her backpack.
Kyle pushed down on the door handle. It did not move. He tried again—he even slammed his weight against the door—but it did not budge. He cursed under his breath. “They’ve sealed the door. We’re locked in.”
Chapter 8
Sofia stood wide-eyed and silent, clutching her backpack to her chest while Kyle searched the room. No windows. Sealed door. He looked up. The air-conditioning vent was too small for him, but not for Sofia. He beckoned to her. “Come here. I’m going to give you a boost up. I want you to stay hidden until the coast is clear.”
“What about you?”
“Your prints are on the computer, not mine. I can play dumb bodyguard and lie my way out of this.” With a low grunt, he shoved her up onto his shoulders and gripped her ankles. She straightened and pushed up on the slatted cover of the vent. “Backpack first, then you.”
Sofia threw her backpack into the ventilation chamber and clambered up. Her wriggle would have been a sexy distraction under different circumstances. He pulled wads of cash from his wallet and held them up to her. “No credit cards. Don’t wait for me; don’t try to find me. As soon as it’s clear, get out of here and back to D.C. Go to Danyael if you have to; he can protect you.”
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