Covert Threat (A Gray Ghost Novel Book 5)

by Amy McKinley

  We’d stopped inches from the shoreline, and I couldn’t help but notice how he felt against me. I was clinging to his chest, every delicious curve and dip of hard muscle pressed against me. I wanted him. Fighting my attraction to him was more energy than it was worth, and him holding me like that made me think he was attracted to me too.

  He tugged on my ponytail, and I eased my grip on his neck enough that we could look at each other. I caught my lower lip with my teeth. His eyes were dilated, intense. Will he kiss me? Should I kiss him?

  The breeze picked up, and I shivered. He closed the distance, and my eyes drifted closed. At the first brush of his lips over mine, I threaded my fingers through his hair. His tongue traced my bottom lip before he deepened the kiss. Heat spread through me with each caress, chasing the chill away.

  When he pulled back, I lifted heavy eyelids to his burning gaze. Unwinding my legs, I dangled until he lowered me to the sand. His arm around my waist kept me steady. I wanted more. His thumb caressed my cheek, and then he smiled. “That was nice.”

  I shivered again as his deep voice sent aftershocks along my sensitive skin. “Yes.” I almost groaned aloud. That’s all I can say? Yes? Kissing him was like a sedative to my racing mind.

  His hand trailed down my arm until he threaded his fingers through mine. We turned as one and began to walk back toward my house. I wanted more. “Is this going to complicate things between us?”

  He snorted. “Were they ever not complicated?”

  “True.” I worried my lower lip. He had a point. The tension between us had been high for a while, but I’d assumed it was mostly one-sided. “Was this a one-time thing?”

  “I don’t want it to be. Do you have any issues seeing where this might go while I’m working as your bodyguard?”

  “I’m not the one who hired you.” With a shake of my head, I grinned. “I don’t have any problem with us. Oh, that reminds me—”

  “What does? That I guard your body?” Mischief danced in his eyes, and he flashed that panty-melting grin.

  I understood why the other female scientists acted silly around him. At that point, I was too. “No, not that. Work. I was thinking about how the military has access to the vaccines my team created.”

  “Ah, the miracle shot your boss raved over? I was under the impression you were the mastermind behind that one.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks. Carl needed to stop telling Trev things about me. “I did, but it was a team effort to bring it to production.” I waved away his laughter. “Anyway, the military has access to it, but not private contractors like you and your partners.”

  “We used to when we were active-duty Navy SEALs. Now that we’re sort of out—”

  “Once a SEAL always a SEAL.” Even I knew that phrase.

  “Exactly. But out of direct active duty, we don’t get the latest and greatest meds any longer.”

  “I disagree with that practice. Your team does search and rescue in dangerous countries. Carl agreed that I could administer the gene-mutation injection to you all, should you want it.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What exactly does the shot do, and are there side effects?”

  Excitement ping-ponged along my nervous system. I loved what I did and could talk to him about it for hours. “The tool kit I developed targets the CCR5 gene, a protein receptor that sits on the outside of white blood cells. The genetically engineered injection precisely targets and edits DNA. The result is a mutation process to become CCR5-delta 32. The mutation grants immunity to harmful diseases such as HIV or lethal hemorrhagic fevers.” Trev’s expression glazed over, and I fought a smile. Should I have explained it another way?

  “I’m not exactly following.”

  “Do you remember about a year ago when the US embassy overseas had a sudden mice and rat infestation?”

  “Yes.” His gaze sharpened. “Several employees and soldiers lost their lives.”

  “Hemorrhagic fevers use the CCR5 as an entry point to gain access to the immune system. If they had the genetically engineered procedure done or naturally carried the mutation, their bodies would not have contracted the disease.”

  “What does the tool kit do? I mean, how does it alter someone’s genes?”

  “It’s not a definite that a recipient’s chromosomes will be altered by the tool kit and vector. But there is a high chance during the incubation procedure that they will. Think of a strand of marbles. Their surface is smooth, glassy.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then think of a pitted or spiky rubber ball. If both those objects roll through loose debris, what we’ll call the disease, which will pick up traces of it?”

  “The spiky one. Okay, I understand the difference caused by the mutation, but the process is mind-blowing.”

  “I get that. Several years ago, this process was stumbled upon, more or less. Genes have been edited to resist diseases in a few scenarios. There was a lot of controversy about how ethical the practice was. Some of the cases reported were done on human embryos. That’s not what this vector is for. It’s for consenting adults only.”

  “I heard something about that. A doctor tampered with an embryo.”

  “Yes, he performed gene editing before a baby—twins, actually—were born. That’s not how this formula is to be used.

  “There is another case of a man who went through many rounds of chemotherapy. When his immune system was severely compromised, he was given large doses of antibodies that contained delta-32. He survived, and his DNA then carried the mutation.”

  “With this injection, do we have to go through chemo?” Trev frowned.

  “No. It’s a targeted injection. It’s not the most comfortable procedure, but there won’t be any chemo involved.”

  He nodded. “Good. I wasn’t even a little on board if there was.”

  I laughed. “You’re good. But there are a lot of factors into bringing about the chromosomal mutation, and it doesn’t work for everyone. We have had some resistant cases. And since it’s a relatively new procedure, we aren’t positive of long-term effects for the next generations. Although if we look at history in Europe, the mutation naturally occurred in about one in every ten thousand. Over time, that number increased to one in ten.

  “The science behind the injection is sound. The technique utilized is called CRISPR.” I loved talking about that stuff—it settled any nerves I had. It was my thing. “I have every faith that there will not be issues due to the forced genetic alterations. Faced with what our soldiers have been attacked with, the risk of the procedure seems worth it. Of course, the choice is yours and your team’s. I could go into a lot of detail if you need me to about the injection and what happens when it’s introduced into the bloodstream.”

  My gaze lingered on his lips. He listened, making me feel important even though he had to be bored to tears while I essentially geeked out—I want to kiss him. I shook my head and dove back into my long explanation for my current work.

  “That’s not necessary right now. I’m impressed.” He squeezed my hand. “Would you mind sharing the details over a call with my team? I’m not sure I’ll be able to repeat everything the same as you said, and I’m sure they will have questions.”

  “Of course.” I couldn’t help it—my mind wandered again to the kiss we’d shared. I had a feeling that our relationship was going to become even more complicated.

  The next day dawned brightly, and the sun pierced through wispy white clouds and bounced off several reflective pairs of sunglasses worn by the people walking in the opposite direction. My stomach growled again, and I glanced to the right to gauge how far I was from the sandwich shop. Becs chatted in my earpiece, and I waited for her to take a breath so that I could share my news. We’d planned to catch up during our lunch breaks that day. I wished she was closer, but chatting on the phone was the next best thing.

  Suddenly, the toe of my flat caught on a raised sidewalk edge. Shit. My arms went out to brace my fall as I stumbled. A hand shot out and steadie
d me, the grip so tight on my elbow that I knew it would bruise. As quickly as I’d been grabbed, the person released me. I took a non-stumbling step forward then looked to my left to thank whoever had saved me from a very unfortunate face-plant.

  Pedestrian traffic flowed at a fast clip while I scanned the faces. Not one person caught my gaze or gave any indication that they’d helped me, which I found odd. After a glance behind and to the right, I gave up. Good thing, too, because Becs’s tirade about her coworker had finally ended.

  “Okay, that sucks. I hope she gets demoted.” There was nothing worse than a colleague trying to claim your work as their own. “But I’ve got to tell you this before I burst.”

  “What?” Dread coated Becs’s voice, not that I blamed her. My life had been a series of horrible events, from the company breach of my screen saver to Fran’s death.

  What I was about to share was different. “Trev kissed me.”

  “The hot bodyguard? The same guy you went away with for a weekend and nothing happened? That one?”

  “Hilarious. But yes, same guy.”

  Becs squealed. “It’s about damn time!”

  “It’s weird? I mean, I shouldn’t cross that line, at least not while he’s contracted with Carl to watch over me.”

  “And how exactly is he watching over you?’

  I stifled a giggle. “Stop. It’s not like that. It was just a kiss.”

  “Are you saying all this with him beside you?” Becs’s voice rose an octave.

  “No,” I snickered. “I didn’t tell him I was going out to lunch. He committed to teaching women’s self-defense classes this afternoon. That’s important, and honestly, it’s lunchtime. It’s super busy. Nothing should happen with all these people around.”

  “Be careful, Jules. I worry about you.”

  “I am.”

  At the sandwich shop, I pushed open the door and got in line at the register. I’d already phoned in my order, so I didn’t need to wait behind all the other customers to eat lunch, which was much easier, especially given that my break was short.

  Becs chatted away, amusing herself as usual.

  “You’re crazy,” I said, rolling my eyes at her shenanigans. It was a single kiss—an exceptional one, but not a declaration of love. I found a seat and munched on my loaded pastrami sandwich while she gossiped about the new scientist, whom she’d nicknamed Clark Kent.

  “You know that’s the wrong reference, right? Clark Kent was a reporter, not a scientist. You’d be closer calling him Peter Parker.”

  “Also a reporter, I think.” Becs loudly munched on chips as she defended her name choice. “Steve fits the label. You haven’t seen him. Remember the new Superman movie, the one with Henry Cavill?”

  “Oh, dark hair, blue eyes? Super hot?”

  “Ding-ding-ding! That’s what this guy looks like, but Steve doesn’t have heterochromia. That small patch of brown on Henry’s left eye makes him unique and sexy as hell. I figured Clark Kent was better than what I wanted to call him, which was Hotness or Beefcake.”

  I choked on the sip of water I’d just taken. Coughing, I wiped tears from my eyes. Thank God the little café was packed and loud. Few people paid attention to me. “You’re certifiable, Becs.”

  “Maybe, but it takes one to know one.”

  “You’re not wrong there.” I popped the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth. “I’ve got to get back to work. Love ya.”

  We hung up, and I tossed my sandwich wrapper and headed out the door. Weaving through people on the busy sidewalk, I moved close to the buildings to avoid being jostled. Phone in hand, I thumbed through a few emails checking for urgent messages, careful not to run into anyone.

  A hard tug on my shirt threw me off-balance. I glanced up, disoriented as I was lifted off my feet, opening my mouth to yell. A hand clamped over my lips. The scream stalled in my throat as a man dragged me back into darkened walkway between two buildings. My back was plastered against his chest. I struggled, and my heart kicked into overdrive. I had to break his hold.

  We went deeper into the alleyway, away from people. No. Thinking about what could happen could have frozen me, but I kicked back. The grunt behind me provided only a short-lived sense of satisfaction. So I squirmed then went limp. Anything to escape.

  “Stop,” the man growled.

  No freaking way. I delivered another solid kick. If I could only angle a little higher, I could catch him where it counted. I wheezed. The arm banded around my waist shifted to my ribs and tightened. I couldn’t inflate my lungs to take a full breath. Tears gathered in my eyes, and another wave of panic crested.

  “Calm down,” his deep, hoarse voice hissed in my ear.

  Oh my God, he’s going to kill me repeated over and over in my oxygen-starved brain. In slow increments, the crushing hold loosened enough for me to take a full breath. My lungs filled painfully. Seconds passed, and I gulped air through my nose like a drug.

  “We have an understanding now?”

  My body shook, my back still pinned against his chest. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew it was the same guy as the one who’d pushed me. The stale smell of smoke clung to his hand and clothes. I got out a muffled “yes” as I continued to evaluate and categorize anything and everything around me, on the off chance he would release me or I could escape.

  His hand left my mouth but trailed down to my neck, where he wrapped my throat in a firm but not too restricting grip. Black hair covered his deeply tanned arm—not too much, but enough for me to know he wasn’t a blond. I couldn’t detect much else. The smell of cigarettes overpowered everything else.

  “You’ve taken something from me. Now you owe me.” His thumb caressed my skin while his palm remained firmly against my throat. “I want the vector. Keep some on you at all times. If you don’t have it next time, you won’t like what happens.”

  He isn’t going to kill me. Hope sparked to life. I knew I would have bruises, but it sounded like he was going to let me go. “Okay. When?” My voice shook, and I inwardly cringed knowing he could hear how frightened I was.

  “I don’t think so. I’ll surprise you. It’s not for you to know when, but make sure you have the military vector on you at all times.”

  Does he have an accent? I’m going with yes, though it’s so faded that it only came out once. I couldn’t place it. “How do you know about that?”

  “It’s not a closely guarded secret, sweetheart.” He pressed his face to the top of my head and inhaled.

  My fear spiked again, and dots swam before my eyes. “Where do you want me to meet you?”

  A throaty laugh stirred the hair at the top of my head, and I smelled a hint of peppermint on his breath. Gum? A mint?

  “I’ll find you.” His hand left my throat and drifted down, pausing at the top of my shirt. Two fingers dipped beneath the collar. “Remember, if I can’t get to you or if you don’t have it on you, you won’t like the consequences.”

  Tremors wracked my body, and I shook in his hold. He released me enough so that my feet touched the ground once more, and I worked to ignore the hard press of either a gun or his erection at the base of my spine. Bile inched up my throat, and my mouth flooded with saliva. I swallowed convulsively. I will not throw up. I continued to gulp.

  With a violent shove, I fell to my hands and knees. Terror held me captive. The scuffle of shoes echoed off the brick until they faded. Then there were no more. Tears splashed on the rough pavement between my hands. Gathering courage, I pushed off the ground and turned. No one was there. I was alone. A sob tore from my throat, and I walked on shaky legs to where I’d dropped my cell near the entrance of the alley.

  With the tips of my fingers, I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket. The knowledge that I wasn’t safe, even in public, shot through my body. I broke into a run. My office was only a block away. I could make it.

  My ribs screamed as they inflated with my labored breathing. Full-on sprinting, I burst through the glass doors. Rather t
han heading through security, I slammed to a stop. Gasping for breath, I slumped against the front desk. Josh, the day security guard, lurched to his feet.

  “What’s wrong?” Hand on his gun, Josh alternated from my face to the front doors.

  “Someone grabbed me.” I couldn’t stop the tears. “He pulled me into an alley.” Embarrassed, I swiped them away as they fell.

  “Are you hurt?” Josh hurried around the counter until he had my shoulders in a gentle grip.”

  I shook my head. “He’s gone but”—God, I felt like a fool—“can you…” What do I want, for him to walk me upstairs? That’s stupid. “Never mind. I—will you make sure no one gets through who doesn’t work here?” I meant outsiders coming in for meetings.

  He spoke into a handheld device, ordering security to sweep the area outside the building for anyone suspicious. “Of course, Dr. Moretti.” He ushered me through the metal detector, keying me in by hand. Thank God, because there was no way my shaking hand could have pulled my keycard from my purse.

  Another guard rounded the corner and took Josh’s spot at the desk. Concern was etched in his kind eyes. He guided me to the elevator, pressed the button, then accompanied me inside. I worked on slowing my breathing as he questioned me about what transpired. I relayed everything I could remember, and he informed me that he would call the police so they could talk to me and file a report. I didn’t want to, but it wouldn’t be smart not to document what had happened.

  After Josh settled me into a chair in Carl’s office, he talked in hushed tones with my boss before he left. Josh had tried to help, but it wouldn’t be enough for Carl. I mentally prepared to have to relay the story three more times—to him, the police, and finally Trev.

  The day dragged. I wanted it to be over, but there was work to be done, and it was a safe environment, so I would stay. I took some time to settle my nerves then got back to work. Trev would pick me up in two hours. I refused to go home earlier than that, especially when I wanted to play around with the solution for the healing salve that had come to me while running with him the day before.