by Julie Rowe
Just looking at him made her want to fan her face.
No one else was looking at him now, as if afraid of attracting his attention.
“Raymond ran into me a few minutes ago.” She made sure her tone was nothing more than conversational, as if she’d mentioned where she’d gotten takeout the night before.
Henry tried to pin her with a look. “What do you mean, ran into you?”
She kept her expression blank and slid her gaze away from his. “Nearly ran me over. I think he was scared. Of you. Something about cutting his balls off…?”
Henry swore under his breath. She couldn’t quite make out the individual words, but it was definitely swearing.
“That jackass was supposed to compile our high-containment lab inventories. A simple job. It should have taken no more than a couple of hours, but he didn’t do it.” Henry’s hands curled into fists. “I have a meeting in thirty minutes, and I need that information.”
He was worried about the Free America From Oppression terrorist group. They’d killed a lot of people using both conventional bombs and biological pathogens. Only a couple of weeks ago, one of the CDC’s own, Dr. Halverson, had helped the FAFO by giving them samples of a measles virus. It had come from one of the CDC’s high-containment labs—secure facilities capable of containing and maintaining some of the worst pathogens the world had ever seen. The virus had been changed, mutated slightly, but the CDC had found a way to offer the public some protection.
Too many had died anyway.
Henry had stayed awake for more than two days to untangle the virus, confirm it had come from their lab, and figure out a response. His work ethic only made her admire him more.
Since Raymond had dropped the ball, she’d just have to pick up the slack. “Who besides you will be at this meeting, and what can I do to help?”
Henry met her gaze and said nothing for a moment. “A real mixed bag of people from a number of government departments. They’re all concerned about the security upgrades we’re making to all of our biosafety level three and up labs and containment facilities. Especially given the FAFO attacks on both the CDC and the public in general.”
“Is this a status update on the renos or a please give us more money for more guns kind of meeting?”
“A bit of both.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “I don’t think you’re going to need to provide everyone with a complete list of all the nightmares we have stashed. That might scare your meeting attendees too much. You’ve got overall numbers, though. Numbers of level one pathogens, level two, and so on. Whatever you need to prove or convince them of, that information alone should be enough.”
“Some of the people who’ll be there don’t believe what we have stored is as bad as it is.”
She shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter what they believe, only what the terrorists believe. If they think there’s some kind of super bioweapon hidden away somewhere…”
Henry blinked. “You’re…right.” His gaze refocused on her face. “Besides, if some of those…people had a complete list of our inventory, it might give them ideas.”
Both her eyebrows shot up, but he was already waving off her concern.
“Sorry.” He sighed. “Sometimes there are assholes in positions of power. Assholes who know enough to endanger themselves and everyone else thinking it’s going to get them what they want.”
“Sounds like Sunday dinner at my gran’s house.” She put a drawl into her voice, hoping to lighten his mood. If he went into this meeting wound this tight, some of those assholes might decide to ignore the overreacting lab tech.
Henry grunted, but it was close enough to a laugh to satisfy her. Especially when his shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Did you eat breakfast?” she asked. His facial hair hid a lot of his face from her, but she could tell he was a little pale underneath the hair.
“No.”
“Well, go eat something so you don’t scare the assholes.”
He stopped and stared at her like he wasn’t sure who she was. Again.
“What?” she asked. “Hangry is a thing.”
He chuckled, an actual chuckle, and shook his head. “Yes, Mom.”
She’d made him laugh—look at her go. What she really needed to do was take a cold shower, because that chuckle made her temperature rise and her panties damp. She turned back to her computer so he didn’t see the blush on her cheeks and muttered, “I’m pretty sure I’m younger than you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move closer, and a wave of heat rushed over her.
“You’re right.” His voice was low and rough as he bent down, his mouth only inches from her ear, sending a shiver down her back. “You’re definitely not my mom.”
Oh, holy shit. Her breath caught and she thought he might say something more, give her some sign he was interested in her for more than her brain.
He stepped away. “I’m going to grab some coffee, then we’ll head to that meeting. Can you be ready in ten minutes?” It was said so matter-of-factly she had to have imagined the sexy lilt to his voice.
Gah. Next thing she knew, she’d be stalking the man. Get a grip, girl.
Wait, what had he said?
“Pardon?” It came out as a squeak, but maybe he wouldn’t notice.
There was a pause.
“You’re coming with me.” He looked positively smug. Yeah, he’d noticed.
“I am?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I need someone to watch my back.”
“Wouldn’t the drill sergeant be a better choice?”
“He’s busy. Besides, I need another expert in case any of the assholes want a second opinion.”
She almost asked, I’m an expert? out loud but managed to keep the question from escaping her mouth.
“Um, okay,” she said slowly. “Ten minutes is fine.”
“Excellent.”
He turned and left the lab.
As soon as he was gone, the place felt like it was twice as big as it had been when he was in it, like he was a reverse TARDIS or something.
…
8:10 a.m.
Henry returned to the lab nine minutes later while Ruby was ensuring the spreadsheet of all the pathogens the CDC had in storage was as up-to-date as it could be. She was missing a few, but that couldn’t be helped. Some of the specimens had been in storage for decades.
She put her computer to sleep and grabbed her tablet, his expression just as irritated as when he’d left. This was a meeting he didn’t want to be at and she shouldn’t be at. It was above her pay grade, since most of the other attendees were high-level government people.
“Are we just answering questions about pathogens?” she asked as she stepped around her desk to join him.
He immediately started walking, fast enough she had to almost trot to keep up.
“No.” He said the word like it tasted bad. “Rodrigues wants me there to answer questions about recent security upgrades to the CDC’s high-containment labs and storage facilities. I was involved in the upgrades more than most people realized.”
“Why?”
He tapped his hand against his prosthetic leg. “I provided real-world experience in how our facilities might be attacked and breached by a hostile force.”
“Oh.” Guilt twisted her stomach. “I’m sorry, that was a dumb question.”
“There’s no such thing as a dumb question.” Henry’s voice was certain. Composed. “You didn’t know. Now you do.”
She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He walked tall, not with a swagger, but as a man comfortable with himself. That tightly wound worry in the pit of her gut uncurled and faded away. That self-confidence was hella sexy.
What would all the politicians, bureaucrats, and other decision makers they were about to meet see in Henry? The self
-assured scientist, the injured veteran, or the dangerous man?
They got into an elevator and headed down to the first floor, where the largest conference room was located.
Dr. Rodrigues was standing a few feet away from the door, talking with the CDC director. She waved them over and introduced them.
The director smiled. “Thank you for attending, Mr. Lee. We value your input.”
Henry nodded. “I’m glad I can help.”
The director turned to Ruby. “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Toth. Thanks for coming.”
“Happy to, sir,” she said, nodding.
“Shall we go in?” The director waved them in ahead of him. Inside was a square table large enough to allow six people to sit on each side. Every spot was occupied. The low hum of conversation ceased as they took their seats.
Ruby sat next to a corner with Henry on her other side. Members of the military, State Department, law enforcement, and various government departments were all already seated.
The CDC director was the last person to sit down.
He called the meeting to order and turned it over to the director of Homeland Security.
“The FAFO is continuing to put pressure on the CDC, causing outbreaks as well as physical attacks, bringing the fight to its gates. Everyone in this room is wondering if the security protocols are going to hold up if they turn up the heat any higher.”
Most people nodded in agreement.
“Instead of starting a relay of questions and answers, I thought it would be more efficient and effective if we were able to talk directly with those in the CDC whose job it is to ensure the safety of your facilities and the custody of your pathogens, agents, and toxins.”
Custody? That was an odd word.
“Do you believe another agency or department is better qualified to maintain custody of our most dangerous agents?” Dr. Rodrigues asked. “Because I assure you”—she turned and did her own eyeball to eyeball tour of the room—“there isn’t.”
“Not even the facility at Fort Bragg?” the Homeland director asked with a glance at the army general sitting across the table.
“Fort Bragg’s facility is twenty years out of date and about five times too small,” Henry said before the general could answer. “The security of our high-level containment facility here in Atlanta has been recently upgraded and modernized against outside attack and internal accident.”
The man sitting next to the general leaned over and said something to him.
The general cleared his throat. “Were those upgrades vetted by an outside party?”
Rodrigues leaned forward. “What outside party is more qualified than us to evaluate the necessary containment and security needs of our most dangerous agents?”
“I have to agree with Dr. Rodrigues,” the CDC director said. “Our people are exceptionally well trained.”
“A second opinion is often required for evaluation purposes, to ensure all factors have been taken into consideration,” the general said, his tone cool.
“Training aside, several members of our staff have the variety of backgrounds to provide that second opinion.” Rodrigues glanced at Henry.
He didn’t hesitate. “We ran a number of ops against the authentication process, as well as the passive and active resistance to force.”
“In-house only?” the general asked.
“Yes, sir,” Henry said. “Myself, several Special Forces veterans, and a semiretired drill sergeant.”
“It’s been suggested,” the general said, watching him with a shrewd gaze, “that a few veterans, even with a drill sergeant to keep them on track, aren’t fit for such a task.”
A smile flashed across the face of the suit next to the general, and Ruby knew that’s where the question was really coming from. He looked like an accountant, dressed in a suit and tie that didn’t flatter his plain face and balding head.
Who was that man? She lifted her tablet as if checking some information on her screen and snapped a picture of the general and the man whispering in his ear.
Next to her, Henry assumed the emotionless mask of a soldier under inspection. “Are you questioning my military service, my degrees in microbiology and virology, or my age, sir?”
The general stared at him blank-faced for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. “Why don’t you give us the highlights of the upgrades? Perhaps a review and an inspection will be sufficient to reassure all parties.”
Small nods and other mild acknowledgments circled the table.
Henry gave the short overview he’d prepared, ending with the number of pathogens stored at the facility.
After he finished speaking, the various people around the table conferred with their neighbors for a few moments. Ruby took that opportunity to show Henry the photo of the man advising the general.
“Do you know who he is?”
“Hoffman. His family owns one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world. They have antiviral medications in various stages of development. They tried to convince the government to buy one of their antivirals to combat the measles. If the vaccine hadn’t helped, the whole country would be in debt up to its eyeballs to pay for it.”
Ruby watched Hoffman talk, his gestures getting larger and larger. “Looks like he’s still trying to land that sale.”
“Greedy asshole.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” the general said, raising his voice and catching the attention of everyone in the room. “I’d still like to physically inspect these high-level containment facilities.”
Great, they’d planned to stick their noses in, no matter what anyone from the CDC said.
“Of course, sir, it would be my pleasure,” Henry said, disdain coloring his tone. “But, due to the sensitive nature of the upgrades, the inspectors should number no more than three and have an equal and appropriate expertise in security technology and implementation.”
That’s brilliant. Ruby had to fight to keep a smile off her face as the one on the whisperer’s face was drawn into a frown. She took another photo with her tablet then angled it so it captured images of all of those present she could see. The only ones she couldn’t get a picture of were the surgeon general and the chair of the federal Infectious Disease Task Force on the far side of the CDC director.
The room was silent. Ruby let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
“I’m sure those conditions can be met,” a man said.
They can?
She followed the gazes of those around her, craning her head around Henry’s wide shoulders.
The surgeon general nodded at the army general then at the CDC director. “My office will accept names from your respective organizations and departments.” He flashed a smile to everyone. “Once we verify their qualifications and security clearances, we’ll forward the list to the CDC. A round of inspections can be swiftly scheduled and carried out.”
Okay, that did sound reasonable, but it still meant a bunch of strangers were going to know exactly how the CDC’s security worked. If they started suggesting new measures, would they understand how those measures would work within the necessary infection-control processes?
Next to her, Henry tensed up until he was all but vibrating. He didn’t like this accommodation. Not at all.
“We need to focus on our top goal,” the surgeon general said, the smile gone now. “Identifying and capturing the members of the Free America From Oppression terrorist group.”
A murmur went around the table. She couldn’t hear distinct words, but the tone of everyone’s voices implied agreement with the surgeon general.
The SG leaned over and said something quietly to the CDC director, who then leaned around Dr. Rodrigues and said something to Henry, too softly for Ruby to make out.
Henry nodded and stood, his body still too stiff for her liking. Something ha
d upset him, but she wasn’t sure what.
He met her gaze. “Time to go.”
She got her to feet, following him out of the room and closing the door behind her.
They walked in silence back to elevator and up to the level of their office and got back to their desks.
His jaw was so tight she feared for the condition of his teeth, and his eyes were twin thunderstorms. But she couldn’t figure out what had set him off.
She pulled out her personal phone, expecting to see a text from her brother, but there was nothing. She tried to call him again. Nothing.
What the heck was he doing?
She was going to kick his ass for worrying her like this.
“What did you think of the meeting?” she asked, hoping the open question might get him talking about what was bothering him.
“Fine.”
No one ever used the word “fine” because anything was actually fine.
“That bad, huh?”
He stopped typing to look at her. “They questioned our competence to design and implement appropriate security for our facilities and safeguards for our most dangerous pathogens.”
Ooh, he was pissed. “You shot down large group inspections.” She smiled. “Now we only have to deal with a limited number of people for a quick inspection.”
He did not return the grin. He held himself stiffly, the storm inside him a barely contained monster.
The danger in him fascinated her. So much power, passion, and persistence. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t retreat, couldn’t resist the intricate puzzle he presented.
“Why is that not good?” she asked, because she could see he thought the idea was terrible.
His fingers hit the keyboard harder. “Their so-called experts aren’t going to be satisfied with what we’ve done.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve been down this road before. In the military, some idiot in government decides things aren’t good enough and brings in a ballistic expert or weapons manufacturer for a tour. They look around, and the next thing you know, you’re using inferior weapons that cost twice as much at the weapon you’ve customized and know inside out. Weapons that fail after getting rained on or sand in them.” His gaze was so hot she was sure the room was going to catch fire.