Lock, Stock and Secret Baby

by Cassie Miles

  Still, she wrote down her e-mail address and passed it across the white linen tablecloth toward him. When he took it, their fingers touched and a spark raced up her arm. This wasn’t sexual energy like she had with Blake. Vargas felt dangerous, as though their shared DNA gave him too much access to her inner thoughts. Of course, that was untrue. He couldn’t know what she was thinking or feeling, unless…unless he’d also taken a look at the psychological information obtained by Blake’s father during their annual interview. He must have done so; he wouldn’t leave that stone unturned.

  She asked, “What did you find when you hacked into Dr. Ray’s records?”

  “Very little.” He didn’t bother denying her implied accusation. “Blake’s father wasn’t a high-tech person. He didn’t keep information on his computer.”

  But he’d used a laptop which had been stolen from his office, indicating that the killer thought it had value. “Maybe you didn’t look in the right files.”

  “Not a chance. I’m thorough,” he said. “Think about it, Eve. When you did interviews with him, he made notes on a yellow legal pad. Right?”

  “That’s true. And the annual surveys we filled out were always in printed form.”

  She leaned back in her chair as their meal arrived. Her chicken salad was excellent.

  In her ear, Blake said, “I hear you crunching. You’re eating, aren’t you? Damn, I’m hungry.”

  She made yummy sounds to tease him. “Mmm. This is the best chicken I’ve ever had.”

  Blake moaned. “You’re killing me.”

  “Perfectly seasoned.” She smacked her lips. “Tasty.”

  With a puzzled expression, Vargas studied her. “It’s nice to see a woman who enjoys her food.”

  “I bet you date a lot of skinny supermodel types who don’t eat at all.”

  “Good bet,” he said.

  In her ear, Blake muttered, “Get back to the topic.”

  Purely to annoy him, she said, “I could eat all day. I could order some dessert, maybe cheesecake or chocolate brownies or everything on the menu.”

  “Whatever you want,” Vargas said.

  Looking across the table at him, she gestured with her fork. “You said there wasn’t much on Dr. Ray’s computer. Tell me what you found.”

  “A statistical abstract with all the areas of study encoded. Without the key, all I could discern was that Dr. Ray discovered some correlations between DNA and certain behaviors.”

  “Like what?”

  “Psychological traits, like introversion or extroversion. Or skill sets, such as our shared proclivity for numbers.”

  “Or talents,” she said, thinking of the musical abilities displayed by Vargas, Latimer and Pyro. “But these traits weren’t labeled?”

  “If you like, I can send you the abstract.”

  “Great.” Once she had these numerical samplings, she might be able to learn more about the study results. She was good at cracking codes. “I’d like to see Dr. Ray’s personal analysis. To see what my behaviors said about me.”

  “I’m surprised that you trust psychology. Genetics is more scientific.”

  “True enough, but I believe that we make our own decisions. Genetics might have given me an ability in math, but I chose to study it.”

  “Our lives start with DNA. It’s the most important factor in determining our course.”

  “I can’t blame genetics for my personal choices, which happened to include watching every single episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I had a huge crush on Commander Data.”

  “The android who longed to have human feelings,” he said. “An interesting choice.”

  “I wanted to help him. To be the woman who made him smile and laugh and fall in love.”

  “You’re a romantic,” he said. “Looking for a soul mate.”

  Before she met Blake, she would have scoffed at the idea of soul mates. Now, she wasn’t so sure. The way she responded to him didn’t make logical sense. “With all the possible mating combinations, it’s statistically unlikely that one particular man and one particular woman are destined to be together.”

  “What about you and Blake?” he asked.

  Am I that obvious? “What about us?”

  “Genetically, it seems likely that you’d be well-matched.”

  His questions and perceptions were throwing her way off balance. In her ear, Blake warned, “Don’t respond. Keep the focus on him. And the study.”

  “Enough about me,” she said. “What about your secrets? What did you tell Dr. Ray?”

  “I always felt different,” he said. “Which was fine with me. I expect others to come up to my standards.”

  “If they don’t?”

  He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he sipped his wine and changed the subject. “Now that I’ve found you, Eve, I want to spend more time together. I want to know you.”

  “And if I don’t measure up to your standards?”

  “You will,” he said.

  If she’d set out to choose a half brother, she would have looked for someone more empathetic and forthcoming. Vargas drew her toward him with his natural magnetism, but he was the opposite of warm and cuddly. If she wasn’t worthy of his standards, she had no doubt that he’d throw her under the bus.

  “How’s your relationship with your parents?” she asked. “By parents, I mean the people who raised you.”

  “Positive. As you know, I’ve been financially successful. I’ve taken care of Mom and Dad, bought them a house in Florida.”

  “What about your genetic parents,” she asked, returning to another topic he’d skillfully sidestepped. “Have you made a search for them?”

  “How could I? All I have is their DNA.”

  She didn’t believe him. Vargas believed that genetics determined behavior and achievement. He would have desperately wanted to find his biological parents, would have spared no expense in hiring experts and hackers. “Did you look into the DNA databases?” she asked. “The military has pretty extensive records. Or CODIS.”

  “I hired a researcher. He didn’t find anything.” Dismissively, he brushed away that topic. “Are you ready to hear my proposal?”

  “Sure.”

  “Like you, I support ecological causes, and I appreciate the work you’re doing at Sun Wave on alternative energy sources.” When he grinned, she noticed that he had a dimple in his right cheek. Just as she did. “Being green might be a family trait.”

  “Most intelligent people realize the importance of saving the planet.”

  “True,” he said. “I’d like to offer several of my properties to be used as Sun Wave alternate energy prototypes. And I’ll cover the cost for the installations.”

  “That’s very generous.”

  “And not a bad tax write-off.” He raised his glass to her. “Here’s to working together.”

  Though she felt as though he was manipulating her, she couldn’t refuse. At Sun Wave, they’d run into obstacles when it came to setting up prototypes for solar energy. She raised her water glass and clinked her rim with his. “I can’t say no.”

  “We’re partners,” he said. “Brother and sister.”

  He seemed to be claiming her as a possession. Her shoulders tensed. Vargas might be involved in Dr. Ray’s murder. He might even have pulled the trigger himself. She had to get out of there before she blurted an accusation. “Much as I’d like dessert, I have somewhere else I need to be. As I’m sure you do.”

  When she rose to say goodbye, he hugged her. “We’re family, Eve. If there’s anything you want, anything at all, call me.”

  Outside, the bright afternoon sun warmed her face and thawed her tension. She felt like a fly that had escaped the spider’s web. Vargas might be her half brother, but he wasn’t necessarily her friend.

  She looked down the two-lane street with cars parked on both sides. An hour ago, she’d left Blake outside a specialty tea shop. He was nowhere in sight. “Blake? Where are you?”

  In he
r ear, he responded. “Turn left and keep walking. Don’t worry. I’m nearby.”

  “Where?”

  “Play along with him,” Blake instructed.

  “Who?”

  “Just do it.”

  Why was he so cryptic? Just once, she’d appreciate an explanation from him instead of a terse command. Just do it? She pivoted, went to her left as he’d ordered and walked. There wasn’t much of a crowd on the sidewalk—a couple of business types, shoppers who were visiting the boutiques, tourists—nobody who appeared to be dangerous.

  She’d only gone a couple of steps when Latimer’s driver, Randall, stepped out of a doorway and blocked her path.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blake had been aware of Randall’s presence for the past half hour. He’d been watching from the opposite side of the street when the stocky, balding man had come around the corner, stopped at the entrance to the Gilpin Grill and peeked inside. After speaking on a cell phone, Randall had gone to a stone bench beside a planter filled with orange and yellow geraniums where he’d sat, waiting and making no attempt to hide.

  Blake had concluded that Randall was the messenger. But what the hell was the message? Obviously, Latimer’s driver had come to the Gilpin Grill to see Eve. How did he know where to find her? Had Vargas tipped him off to the location? The idea of Vargas and Latimer working together worried him.

  Instead of a direct confrontation, Blake had decided to hold off and see what unfolded. As he had listened to Eve’s conversation with Vargas through his earpiece, he had stayed out of Randall’s sightlines. His military experience had schooled him in methods to make himself invisible. Less than a month ago, he’d led a covert rescue operation in a Pakistani city. Dodging through those narrow streets had been easier than blending into this upscale warren of shops and restaurants.

  He had maneuvered into a position where he could study Latimer’s chauffeur. Randall was heavy but not flabby. His broad shoulders and upper arms stretched the seams on his lightweight sports jacket. When he had turned his face upward to catch the sun, Blake had noticed his misshapen nose, a couple of scars and a cauliflower ear. At one time in his life, Randall might have been a boxer, and he would have been the kind of fighter who put his head down and came at you like a tank—unstoppable, capable of taking punishment and of dishing it out.

  When Eve had come out of the restaurant and followed his directions, she was face-to face-with Randall. She smiled and said, “This is a coincidence.”

  Blake was close enough that the sound of her normal voice harmonized with the tinny echo from his earpiece.

  “Good afternoon,” Randall said. “Will you come with me, please? Dr. Latimer is waiting.”

  They crossed the street at the four-way stop sign and walked north. They made an odd couple. Beauty and the beast, Blake thought as he watched the sway of her hips. Eve seemed to get prettier every time he saw her; she was definitely growing on him. His desires were complicated by her admission that she was a virgin. If they made love, he’d be damn sure that was what she wanted.

  Within a block, the shops had faded into an expensive residential area with massive private homes and classy town houses. Through the earpiece, Blake warned her, “Whatever you do, don’t get in the car.”

  Still on the opposite side of the street, he narrowed the physical distance between them.

  Through Eve’s listening device, he heard Randall ask, “Do you know where Blake is?”

  “I can honestly say that I don’t.” Eve sounded annoyed. “Do you mind telling me what we’re doing?”

  “Dr. Latimer would have come by himself, but he’s having a bad day.”

  Blake wasn’t surprised. After they had left his house last night, Latimer had seemed panicky. The stress couldn’t be good for his illness.

  Randall approached the heavy bronze Cadillac that they’d seen him driving last night and opened the door.

  From this angle, Blake couldn’t see the interior of the car. He watched as Eve braced her arm against the roof and peered inside. “Hello, Dr. Latimer. What’s this about?”

  Latimer responded, “Please get in.”

  She stood up straight. “It’s such a lovely day. Why don’t you step out here and we can talk.”

  “I need to conserve my strength.”

  Blake saw Randall move into position. One shove from him and Eve would be in the car. He had to prevent that action. Stepping into the open, he shouted, “There you are.”

  He jogged across the street.

  Quietly, Randall stepped back. For a husky man, he was talented at fading into his surroundings. Blake reminded himself that silent threats were often the most deadly.

  He approached Eve and gave her a little hug, subtly removing her earpiece. “I thought you were going to wait for me outside the Grill.”

  “Well, I ran into Randall.”

  Blake leaned down and greeted Latimer. “Nice to see you.”

  “Please,” he said, “get in the car. Both of you.”

  Latimer looked like hell. Behind his thick glasses, his eyes were sunken. Greasy strands of blond hair plastered across his forehead.

  Blake nodded to Eve. “You sit back here. I’ll stay up front with Randall.”

  If the driver tried anything, Blake would be ready for him. Once situated in the passenger seat, he turned and looked into the back.

  Though the weather was pleasantly warm, Latimer shuddered inside a shawl-like sweater. His lips barely parted as he spoke. “Finding out about my biological parents was difficult for me. Devastating.” He drew a ragged breath. “My father—the man who raised me—provided me with a very good life. When I chose medicine instead of the family business, he encouraged my dream, sent me to the best schools, arranged for mentors. He’s a good man. The best.”

  “I understand,” Blake said. “Ray Jantzen is the only father I’ve ever known, the only man I want to be my father.”

  “My work with infertility involves genetics,” Latimer said. “In a way, that makes it harder for me to accept that the man who raised me isn’t my father.”

  “Sure he is,” Eve said. “Real parenting involves nurturing. Laughter and squabbles. Pain and happiness. That’s what makes a parent. Love is more important than biology.”

  He couldn’t believe the supremely practical Eve would be touting the value of relationships and love. This was a woman who relied on facts, not emotions. If his dad had been able to hear her talking about relationships and nurturing, he would have been proud.

  “I know,” Latimer said, “that you’re trying to locate the list of genetic parents.”

  “The information is pertinent to my dad’s murder,” Blake said.

  Latimer stared at him. “My father must never know that we’re not of the same blood.”

  “I don’t see a problem,” Eve said. “There’s no reason why he should be informed.”

  Blake knew the decision wasn’t theirs to make. By not informing the parents, Prentice had committed fraud. A crime. A prosecutable offense. There was an obligation to bring the truth to light. “If the police are involved, we can’t control the outcome.”

  “I’ve already spoken to Pyro,” Latimer said. “Though he appears to be delighted that his father isn’t really his father, he promised me that my family wouldn’t be brought into it. Can you do the same? Continue your search, but erase my name from the list.”

  Which would be committing yet another fraud. “I can’t make that promise.”

  “What if I made it worth your while?” Latimer shifted in the backseat. The slight movement caused him to wince as though his bones were sore. “I can arrange for you to meet with Prentice.”

  A tempting offer. But as soon as Latimer spoke, Blake knew he was dealing with a liar. Last night, Latimer had claimed that he didn’t know the whereabouts of Prentice. Dealing with all these superbabies was like playing chess with several genius partners. Latimer had his agenda. Vargas had another plan. Every move had a countermove until the f
inal checkmate. “How well do you know David Vargas?”

  “I don’t.”

  Blake looked toward Randall. “If Vargas didn’t tell you, how did you know that Eve would be at the Gilpin Grill?”

  Randall stared through the windshield. His meaty hands rested on the steering wheel as though he was driving. “I dropped a GPS tracking device in her purse.”

  “What?” Eve erupted from the backseat. “Why do people keep bugging me?”

  With a shrug, Randall said, “I thought it might be useful to know your movements.”

  “We weren’t spying on you,” Latimer assured her. “We didn’t even turn it on until after I’d talked to Prentice this morning.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed in an angry glare. For a woman who claimed to be logical, she had a lot of passion seething under the surface. She snarled, “I must have called Prentice a dozen times and he won’t pick up. Why did he take your call?”

  “I don’t know,” Latimer said.

  “I don’t believe it. And I don’t believe that you aren’t in touch with Vargas. He’s part-owner of the building where you have your offices.”

  Latimer seemed to retreat deeper into his illness. “My office lease is handled by a Realtor. I’ve never met this person you’re talking about.”

  Eve seemed to assess his response and find it rational. She still wasn’t letting Latimer off the hook. “Where’s Prentice? Where is he taking this supposed vacation?”

  “He’s not vacationing,” Latimer said. “He’s in hiding.”

  “From what?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Latimer said. “He’s been threatened.”

  “Who’s after him?”

  “He didn’t give me a name.” With an effort, Latimer straightened his shoulders. “Will you work with me? Do everything you can to delete my name from the list?”

  “I’ll try,” Blake said. “Tell me more about Prentice.”

  “He didn’t go into great detail, but he told me that he’d performed an IVF procedure for a great deal of money. Though he successfully implanted the embryo, the father turned on him.”