by AJ Sinclair
Another cough caught Indie’s attention, loose and wet, from deep within the lungs. That’s no cold. She glanced around and spotted a woman who’d gotten off the plane with them pressing her hand to her chest, pain etched across her face. She was carrying a baby, and a young girl followed her. “Sarmi?”
The woman paused and glanced at Indie and her men, recognition slowly dawning. “Hello,” she said in English.
Eli stepped up and greeted her in her native language, and she responded animatedly, showing them Shekar, happy and healthy.
“He looks so good.” Indie held the baby, pressing her hand to his heart and warming at its strong pulse.
Some of the light left Sarmi’s eyes, and she spoke with weighted words.
Eli translated. “Her husband died during the quarantine. She doesn’t want to run the store without him, so they’re going back to India.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Indie handed the baby to his sister, Aradhana, who began chattering, but her eyes were sad too.
“The rat died yesterday.” Eli frowned.
The rat. Rizzo? A sick dread turned Indie’s stomach. “How?”
Aradhana spoke, and Eli’s face turned grim as he explained. “He’d become listless, wouldn’t eat or drink. Wheezing. Then yesterday they found him dead with a pool of blood around his head.”
God, no. Except for the wheezing, that was new, Aradhana had described all the same symptoms Indie had seen in Rizzo when she’d given him the Scarlet Infection. But how? She’d cured him. A similar virus? A mutation? I have to get to a lab.
Sarmi checked the connecting flight information then said goodbye and headed for her gate with her family.
“What does this mean?” Austin slipped his fingers under Indie’s chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
The guys had circled her, not the military company she’d met during the infection, but men who’d become her whole world. Jack pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. Cody wore a wild tropical print shirt. Austin wore shorts, and even Eli had ditched his usual khakis and polo for a t-shirt and jeans. We’re on vacation. This can’t be happening now.
“It’s mutated.” Indie’s voice trembled.
“Are you sure?” Jack slid his hand under her arm, attempting to steady her.
She couldn’t be positive without testing. “That’s the most likely scenario.” Coughing echoed in her ears. “We need to get these people to a hospital.” Cold reality gripped her. “If the Scarlet Infection has mutated, the cure will be ineffective, the vaccine useless. We need to order quarantine. Right here, right now.”
Passengers from the Denver plane were boarding flights to destinations all over the world, including Sarmi and her children. A jetway door closed as a last call for boarding sounded.
“Too late for that.” Cody stared out the wall of windows as a plane taxied toward the runway.
Austin gripped Indie’s hand. “We need to get you to a lab.”
“No.” She pulled back. “No, I ran to my lab when my mother was in the hospital. I never saw her again.” But in her lab, she’d found the cure.
A flight boarding announcement cut through their debate, AeroMexico to Cancun, adding fuel to Indie’s dilemma. “We’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“We could go.” Cody adjusted his backpack on his shoulder. “Run away from all of this.”
“Can we?” Indie bit her lip. Was any place in the world safe?
They wrapped their hands around hers, strength upon love, waiting for Indie’s decision. Lab, hospital, beach. Damn it! She knew without a doubt where she wanted to go, but she chose where she had to go.
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Under Her Covers – Death’s Relentless Dance: Book 2 coming Summer 2018.
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About the Author
AJ Sinclair was born with a pen in her hand and ink flowing….that’s such BS. I’m the creation of a twisted mind, the result of an imagination with too much time to fester. Eh, that’s overly dramatic too. Basically, I’m a former contemporary romance author who got bored with the typical formula and decided to shake things up a bit. I write reverse harem apocalyptic romance because I want to see how love lives on when there’s nothing else to live for.
Born and raised as a loyal Wisconsin cheesehead—Go Pack Go!—I currently reside in Denver, Colorado with my geek husband, sassy soon-to-be tween daughter, and a hyper Cocker Spaniel who chews on every freaking thing she can find. We plan to add a black cat to this zoo. It works for us.
Acknowledgements
The first time I published a book, I did it all on my own: editing, cover design (the results were frightening, we won’t talk about that), and virtually no promotion. I was clueless and alone. I swore I’d never do it again.
Never say never. I should know that by now. After being with two different publishers, I’m back on my own. But I’m not alone. This time I have a team, and I couldn’t have done it without them. My deepest thanks go to:
My beta readers, who are probably my most valuable resource: Lori Whitwam, Heather Cox, and Susie Francoeur. They built me up with much needed praise and then slapped me back to reality with honest feedback. Writing is a challenge, but revising is a heartless bitch.
My cover designer, Emmy at Studioenp. Wow. She does amazing work and she is a joy to work with.
My editor, Lori Whitwam, who waded through a lot of crap to present the finished product. Not just writing crap, but my emotional crap. Editors are more than error-catchers. They’re advisors, counselors, and in this case, my friend.
Most of all, I want to thank the Amelia James readers who made this journey with me. Thank you for sticking around. Not sure where this ride is taking us, but I promise it’ll be a trip.