Covert Threat (A Gray Ghost Novel Book 5)

by Amy McKinley

  I waved to the security guard at the front desk and leaned against the inside of one of the large glass panes in the front of the building. Restless, I scrolled through my contacts and hit the call button for my best friend, Becs, who’d also been my roommate in college.

  “Hey, nerd,” she said in greeting. “It’s been over a week since you’ve called. I was getting worried.”

  I snorted. “Worried about what? That I’d gotten lost under a pile of research?” We were told to keep the information about the virus that had infected people in Russia contained and not to share anything outside our facility, which was hard because I wanted to talk to her about it. As a fellow scientist, I knew she would understand.

  “That’s what I was concerned about. You can go entirely too long without human interaction. What’s up? Anything new?”

  I chewed my bottom lip for a minute, contemplating. Becs and I told each other everything. “You heard about the scientist from our competitor who killed himself, right?” It had been a month before, but I couldn’t get the incident out of my head.

  “I did. So sad. Wait, did you know him?” Alarm colored her voice.

  “Yes, but we weren’t close. He was more of an acquaintance. We had talked about collaborating on a project that was giving both of us fits. Weird, I know, but he was a decent guy.”

  “Your bosses were okay with you teaming up with the competition?”

  “Noooo.” I laughed. “They didn’t like the idea of working together at all. We convinced them we’d only be sharing a few notes and helping each other in the areas where we were stuck. They were against it until they figured out it could open up a whole new marketing strategy that would benefit both businesses.”

  “Always about the bottom line.” Becs sighed.

  “That wasn’t what I wanted to tell you.”

  “No? There’s more drama? Spill, girl.”

  I filled her in on the screen-saver incident, the missing purse, and falling overboard before finally getting to Trev.

  Becs stopped me. “Let me get this straight. A man, who most of the women on your floor want, rescued you, and now he’s in your life daily, guarding you?”

  I laughed. “Yep. That’s exactly right.”

  “Do you like him?”

  I paused, nibbling on my lip some more. “He irritated me when I realized it was him. Becs, I don’t know. There’s more there than the man-candy he appears to be. When he held me on the boat, I felt safe. Protected. And there are moments where he lets me see into his past or drops his quick wit and charm to reveal so much more. Maybe I made too much of the flirting and lingering smiles between him and the flight attendant.”

  “Of course you did. I’m going to give you some advice, and I expect you to follow it.”

  I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me.

  “Stop it.” Becs laughed. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “What are you talking about?” I was lucky to have her as my friend. She got me in ways that most didn’t. We’d connected right away, even though we were complete opposites. Even at our mutual age of thirty, she was outgoing, and I was introverted. She was adventurous, and it reflected in her appearance—she had short blond hair that she styled to match her moods, spiky some days, sometimes soft waves, sometimes dyed outlandish colors. I was dark to her light—my olive complexion, long brown hair, and reserved disposition complementing both her look and her personality.

  Becs cleared her throat, and I focused on our conversation.

  “Forget that Trev initially came off as a flirt,” she said. “He’s not Brad. That was college, and that guy was a douche. Instead, focus on ending your extended stay in celibacy-land.” Her voice softened. “This is good for you, Jules. Maybe not the weird stuff that’s been happening, but you need to get back out there.”

  I had to tear my eyes from the window. Jules was in there, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and reading a book. With a couple more twists, I finished tightening the last screw on the motion-sensor light by her back door.

  Moving around, I triggered the light I’d just installed to flood the back if anyone was outside. Tools in hand, I went inside. She looked up when I approached, and I grinned, trying to hide how the sight of her affected me. “I need your phone so I can install an app to view what the camera sees.”

  “Oh, that’s convenient.”

  Our hands brushed against each other as I took her phone, making me even more aware of her than I already was. Concentrating on the screen, I downloaded the app and connected her account so that she could access the cameras. With her cell between us, I demonstrated what she needed to do.

  “That’s great.” She grinned as my stomach growled.

  “There’s a restaurant on the beach not too far from here. Want to take a walk there, grab some dinner?”

  She nodded. “Sure.” She locked up behind us, and then we made our way down the path on the side of her house to the beach.

  She dangled her sandals between her fingers as we walked along the shore while waves broke out of reach from us.

  “So, Trev, when you aren’t on babysitting duty, what do you like to do?”

  “I’m guarding you, not babysitting.”

  She smiled, and I couldn’t help but grin at her teasing.

  “I like spending time with my family. We usually find ourselves in a mess of some sort, but it’s nice when we hang out, grill, and drink some beers. Sometimes we go boating.”

  The moon shone down on us, and I caught her shudder.

  “What made you uncomfortable? The boating comment?”

  “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of that… I don’t mind boating, to be perfectly honest. It’s being on the water if the weather is bad or there’s a chance of a storm blowing in.”

  “Ah, the dunking you got from the race? Or your past?”

  “Neither are good memories. Honestly, I’m not crazy about being on or in deep water. I’d rather not talk about that, though. Tell me about your family.”

  “You’ve met my brother, Chris. Then there are five other guys I grew up with who are more family to both of us than any blood relative ever was.”

  “That’s a big group of guys. Do you see them often?”

  “Yep. Our base is in Maine, where we get together the most. We expanded our group when we went into the military and added a few more to our team.”

  “Hmm. I wish I had something like that. My best friend and I work long hours and don’t live very close. We can’t get together as often as we’d like. You’re lucky.” I paused. “I was super close to my mom.”

  “It was just the two of you living here in the States? I’m not detecting an accent.”

  “Yes. We moved to the beach house when we came over from Italy. Her family was from there, but she was the last of them. As for the lack of accent, we spoke both Italian and English daily. In Italy we spoke English at home. When my mom and I moved here, we rarely spoke Italian, even at home.

  “She passed away from ovarian cancer two years ago. There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t miss her. She was my biggest champion and best friend.”

  “I’m sorry. It must be hard for you.”

  She smiled, looking as if she was going to cry before a forced smile curled her lips. “I miss her. I have her cookbook. It’s silly, but it’s like she left little pieces of herself on the pages. When I cook, I can almost feel her at my side, guiding me.”

  “I’m glad you have that to remember her by.” My stomach growled loudly, and I frowned. “You need to stop talking about food. I don’t think my poor deprived stomach can take much more of it.”

  She laughed again, and I relaxed. A sad Jules was not good—she made me want to comfort her, and that was crossing a line.

  “I’ll cook for you, and I promise, no more talking about food.” She winked, and I growled. She did that on purpose.

  “You know, you possess a very dangerous weapon. You must be keeping your culinary skills hidd
en, or you’d have stalkers and marriage proposals by the dozens.”

  “Because the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” She stubbed her toe on a shell and stumbled. I caught her elbow then slid my hand down, lacing our fingers together.

  “That’s one way.” I couldn’t help but tease her, and she jumped right in and played along. It was fun. My thumb brushed back and forth over the inside of her wrist. When I felt the raised skin, she paused, pulled up her sleeve, and showed me a long T-shaped scar.

  “Before you ask, I don’t remember anything about this. Must have happened when I was young.”

  I nodded, dropping the subject.

  “Back to what we were talking about… Sadly, I don’t have time for socializing. I usually run in the morning, go to work, eat, and then crash. Rinse and repeat.”

  I’d noticed that there weren’t any pictures of her family in her home except for a few of her and her mom. “What about going out with friends? You don’t work every weekend.”

  “When I’m not working more than five days in a row, I’ll get together with my friend Becs from college, but that’s usually for a longer weekend. Or Fran and I will grab a drink or dinner after work sometimes.”

  “And Fran is?”

  “My assistant. The one I walked out with the other day.”

  “Right, the one who called you Brainy. Does that make her Pinky?”

  “What?”

  I turned to her in shock. “You mean to tell me you never watched Pinky and the Brain?” She shook her head, and I laughed. “You’re missing out. We’ll have to watch an episode some night. The Brain is all about world domination.”

  We made our way up the wooden planks to Seaside Grill and placed our orders at the take-out window.

  “Becs comes and visits when she can, but she lives over an hour away. We talk on the phone once or twice a week.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s a scientist like me and has similar hours.”

  Our food came up, and we grabbed our trays. Food in hand, we found seats. I bit into my cheeseburger and groaned. God, I was hungry.

  She held a fry delicately between her fingers, pausing halfway to her mouth. “This is almost like a date.” Her face went beet red.

  I grinned. She was sexy, and I was going to cross that line with her eventually. I wondered whether she was after a date—I had no problem with that. “Would it be so bad”—I leaned across the table and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear—“to go on a date with me?”

  It was late afternoon, and the happiness from spending time with Trev the night before had shifted to confusion and outright irritation. My day needed a do-over already. My head was pounding as I listened to my assistant. Fran stood in front of me and swore I’d told her to do something that I had not: “You told me to add in tea tree right after lunch.”

  I threw up my hands in frustration. “There is no way I would have said that. It would have compromised the integrity of the baseline experiment. The tea tree was for the second strand, which we already cultured. Seriously, you know that.” With twenty percent of our time spent on our other projects, we had switched from studying the viral strains of the ancient hemorrhagic fever to the healing salve we were manipulating for military use.

  We were testing lavender oil to speed tissue regeneration and increase collagen to decrease healing time. The second batch had various herbs, like tea tree oil, which we hoped would help to combat bacteria. We tested them separately in combination with key ingredients to speed regeneration by seventy-five percent over traditional methods.

  “I know, but you said”—she made air quotes and mimicked the snotty face I made when I was frustrated with people not understanding—“‘just do it. Don’t question me.’”

  Shoot, that was a pretty good impression. Still, what the hell? “Are you sick? Or high?”

  Fran’s lips peeled back, and she practically growled, “Are we done for the day? I’ve got an awful headache.”

  Make that two of us. “Yeah, go home and get some rest.” I needed to let it go. She looked terrible. A sliver of worry shot through me that somehow the virus had infected her, but there was no way. When we worked on the strains from Russia, we wore biohazard suits and conducted the experiments in containment rooms. “Feel better, Franny.”

  I dropped onto my chair. She yanked her purse out of her desk drawer then stomped out of the office. With a glance around the lab, I gave the scientists who had enjoyed the show the evil eye. What the hell is going on today?

  I picked up the platform of test tubes that contained the mixtures we were developing to increase the process of healing from injury. As I walked slowly to the secure chiller, I couldn’t make sense of what had happened or of the fact that Fran had left before making sure our work was put away, safe from my klutziness.

  After sending Trev a quick text saying I was done for the day, I got my purse from the drawer and headed out. I passed through the security door to our lab, rode the elevator down, and said good night to the evening guard. The sounds of the city blasted my senses as soon as I was on the sidewalk. I wanted to go home and was relieved to see Trev waiting for me, leaning against his car with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

  I gazed at him in appreciation before I passed through the doorway—even though I was tired, I could enjoy the picture he presented. I could get used to him, if only the reason he was waiting for me was real rather than a job.

  Neither of us spoke on the ride home. Trev probably sensed my mood was not good. After unlocking the door and going inside, I went right to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass. Looking over my shoulder, I lifted my eyebrows and held up the glass. At his nod, I snagged a second, and we filed out to the patio. A mild breeze swept my hair back from my face. Trev took the bottle and corkscrew from me. In a matter of seconds, I was sipping a much-needed drink. I sank fully into the chair and lifted my feet onto the seat next to me while he settled in a few inches away.

  Minutes passed while we enjoyed the wine and listened to the crash of the waves not far from my house. I loved it there—it was truly peaceful. I twisted the glass around by the stem, and spidery legs swirled at the edges. I had half a glass before I relaxed a bit.

  He must have had a sixth sense or something. “What happened today?” he asked, his deep voice tempting me to confide in him

  I turned to face him. Leaning over, I brushed a spider from his shoulder.

  He cringed. “Was it a spider?”

  Giddiness bubbled in my chest. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of spiders?”

  “Like you’re not? All those legs and creepy eyes.”

  “I’m a scientist, so no.” I laughed. “I can’t believe you, a former Navy SEAL, are squeamish about a tiny arachnid.”

  He scowled at me. “Yeah well, it’s something that lives in the back of my mind. It hasn’t been easy. Imagine being in the field, unable to move, while one crawls across your forearm or even worse, your face.”

  The faraway look haunting his deep-blue eyes caused my chest to tighten around my heart. His answer didn’t ring true. “I’m not following your reasoning. You’re a pretty tough guy. What brought about a fear of spiders?”

  He leaned back in his chair so its weight shifted onto the back legs. If I hadn’t been trying to get him to open up, I might have nudged him and played with his precarious balancing act.

  He rocked his chair back onto four legs and placed his wineglass on the table between us. “When you grow up in a home overrun with filth, insects, and vermin, it leaves a lasting impression. I didn’t like living like that, and I guess the feeling of all those legs crawling on me brings me back to when I didn’t have options for escaping that existence.”

  I ducked my head to hide my emotions. I’d seriously misjudged him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why would you be sorry? You weren’t my keeper when I was growing up.”

  Keeper? That’s an odd way for him to think of hi
s parents. Maybe he didn’t grow up with them. “I had you pegged all wrong. I assumed you were mostly fluff—you know, without substance.”

  “Ah, the surfer vibe.” He laughed. “Appearances are deceiving.”

  “I did think of you as a beach bum. You have that look.” His blond man bun, athletic body, bright smile and eyes, and the easy way he carried himself added up to make it seem as if he didn’t take himself seriously.

  “And you thought of me as a player.”

  “Well, come on! Look at you.” I grinned. “And there was the flirting you did on the plane.”

  He shot me a confused look.

  “The flight attendant.”

  “Jess? She’s a friend, and I was giving her a hard time about her boyfriend.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. It was her reaction, the blushing.” I waved at my face. “And then you turned that charm on me.” This is embarrassing. “But the spider… I didn’t think much could bother you.”

  He wrapped an arm around me and gave me a quick squeeze before he moved back into his space. “Someone had to be lighthearted. I don’t think we would have survived our youth if I hadn’t taken on that role. My brother is the serious one.”

  “Chris?”

  He nodded, his gaze turning inward, distant. “He shouldered the brunt of everything while we were growing up. It was my way of helping him to bring laughter back and lighten up the situation we were in. I wanted to take some of the responsibility off him, to shield him like he’d done so many times for me when I was much younger.”

  My curiosity was a dangerous thing with a will of its own. “Was this while you were growing up with your parents?” It sounded like foster care gone wrong, but there were a lot of parents out there who weren’t protective and loving with their kids. I was grateful for mine, or at least the one I could remember. She was one of the best a kid could have had.