The Ortega Project

by Linnea Alexis

  Someone pounded on the back door of the van. “Open up. I can’t breathe.”

  Recognizing Alex’s voice, Roman pushed open the door.

  Alex dove inside, gasping for air as he dropped his bag of samples and flashlight. “That smell. What the hell is it?”

  “I can’t tell. The stench wasn’t this strong before, was it?”

  Alex began coughing. He shook his head “We would have noticed. What the fuck is going on?”

  Roman grabbed a water from the cooler. He twisted off the cap and handed Alex the bottle. “Damned if I know. Here. This will help.”

  After splashing water on his face, Alex finished the bottle in two gulps. “Thanks, got any more?”

  Roman gave him a second bottle.

  Doc opened the driver’s side door, flashlight and sample bag in hand. He glanced at Roman and Alex and his mouth went slack. “What the hell happened to you two?”

  “What’s that stink?” Roman asked.

  ”Where?”

  “Outside. Shut the door. Can’t you smell it?” Alex wiped his eyes.

  Doc closed the door. A few seconds later, he climbed back inside, settling behind the wheel.

  “Smell anything?” Roman asked, hoping Doc could solve the mystery of what had caused such a violent reaction from Alex and him.

  Doc shrugged. “Garlic?”

  “Garlic,” Roman and Alex said in unison. Of course.

  Doc snorted. “Oh, come on, that’s an urban myth. Garlic doesn’t really repel vampires, does it?”

  “Until a few months ago, you thought vampires were also an urban myth,” Alex said.

  “True.”

  “I’m willing to bet garlic, by itself, is probably safe,” Roman said. “But what if it’s mixed with a toxic ingredient?” Had something as obvious—and archaic—as garlic killed his vampires?

  Doc shifted in the driver’s seat and turned to face them. “You might be onto something. I read a blurb in a science journal about an environmental lab at ISC that’s working with a company back east to come up with a non-toxic pesticide. And garlic is a natural insect repellant.”

  Alex downed the rest of his water. His eyes flashed at Roman. “You once mentioned Grace was working on a project for her Master’s in Environmental Sciences. Did she ever say what she was working on?”

  He shook his head, embarrassment burned his cheeks. “We never discussed her project in any depth. But then, I never discussed details of what I did either.” Whenever they were together, they focused on their relationship and each other—not their work.

  “I can’t believe it. Weren’t you even the least bit curious about her project or what the hell she did at the college?” Alex said.

  Roman narrowed his eyes and tried to recall any specific discussions about her work. “We talked about a lot of things. And if I brought up the subject, she bragged about the project being top secret,” he said, making air quotes. “She mentioned running tests, collecting and analyzing data, but never anything specific. I’ll make a point to find out.”

  “You think?” Alex snapped.

  Doc turned on the headlights and cranked over the engine. “Let’s get these samples back to the lab. I’m anxious to test our theory.”

  “Not as anxious as I am to talk to Grace.”

  34

  Grace

  Grace looked forward to her appointment with Dr. Shelby, her handsome, young, ginger-haired OB/Gyn. Following a routine examination, she sought answers regarding cramping she’d been experiencing lately. Well into her fifth month of pregnancy, she feared something may be wrong.

  But the doctor assured her that cramping or occasional light spotting isn’t unusual during pregnancy. “But if spotting becomes heavy, or if you experience lightheadedness, or pain, call my office immediately. After hours, go to the ER. For right now, eat balanced meals, stay hydrated, and take things slow for a while.”

  “What if I fall or do something that might hurt the baby? I’m so clumsy.” She fought back tears, worrying about the wellbeing of her unborn child.

  “Babies are well protected in the womb. Learn to relax, take a nap, put your feet up, and avoid stress.

  She had a dilemma. Avoid stress? Impossible. She wanted to see Roman, who didn’t want to lead Crawford to her, so meeting him tonight was risky, not to mention stressful. And what about slayers who sought her to get to Roman?

  “Grace?” Dr. Shelby asked, tearing her away from her thoughts. “Are there any other concerns you’d like me to address?”

  “None I can think of.” Or that she was willing to disclose.

  He made notations on the computer and closed her file.

  Grace patted her stomach. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?”

  “Most of the time, an ultrasound will reveal—”

  “No! No ultrasound.” Besides the baby’s sex, what else would an ultrasound show?

  * * *

  Roman

  * * *

  Roman requested, and Doc agreed to disable the institute’s security system long enough for him to slip away undetected. Roman knew that by leaving the property he risked being seen by the priests and Crawford, but he had to take that chance. He needed a face-to-face with Grace to question her about her research project.

  Previously, whenever they were together, what she did at the college didn’t seem important—until now.

  He slipped out of the institute and drove off the premises with relative ease. “Thank you, Doc,” he murmured. With time working against him, he raced to Grace’s apartment, and parked in the lot behind the building. Anxious to speak with her, yet fearing what he’d discover about her project, his stomach rumbled. He took the steps two at a time up to her apartment, and rapped lightly on her front door.

  When Grace opened the door, he forgot the reason for his visit. His breath hitched at the sight of her—decked out in a lilac-colored dress that made her blue eyes appear pale lavender. He pulled her close, which was becoming more difficult, due to their baby growing inside her.

  Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he whispered, “I love you.” After avoiding emotional intimacy for over two hundred years, he had surrendered himself to the beautiful woman he held in his arms. He didn’t feel he deserved to love or be loved again, especially after being forced to desert his pregnant wife two centuries ago. Now here he was once more, awaiting, anticipating the birth of another child.

  His child.

  Their child.

  He’d been blessed with a second chance for a family.

  Grace took his hand and led him toward the bedroom. “I had a doctor’s appointment today and he suggested I take it easy and avoid stress until the baby’s born.”

  “What the hell?” He dropped her hand. “Dammit, Grace. Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Only normal pregnant-lady complaints. In fact, my dear,” she said between quick kisses on his cheeks and lips. “Now that you’re here, everything’s perfect.” She held his hand again and continued to the bedroom.

  He pulled away. “No, Grace. Stop.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “We need to discuss something.”

  She paled and her eyes widened. “Sounds serious. What’s going on?”

  To put her mind at ease, he smiled. “Come, sit with me.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, he led her to the sofa. “Grace?” he asked softly and breathed in and out several times trying to steady his jangled nerves.

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Grace,” he repeated. “Tell me about your science project.”

  She gave him a quizzical look. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  “I didn’t think you were interested.”

  “Well, I am now. Tell me about it.” His voice trembled. He wanted to scream and punch the wall. But he had to keep it together. He ground his teeth, struggling to hold back the anger threatening to erupt—reminding himself she was the mother of his child. He clo
sed his eyes, trying to block out what he believed in his heart to be true—she had killed his vampires.

  * * *

  Grace

  * * *

  What Grace feared most—the end of her relationship with Roman—started to unfold. Not wanting to see the horror and disappointment on his face, she looked away.

  “Tell me about your project.” He spoke quietly, controlled.

  She stalled, fearing where this conversation was headed. “It’s no longer mine. I resigned.”

  “Grace,” he said softly. “Tell me. What were you working on?”

  Dear God, he knew. Her heart sank, taking with it every hope for their future together. “An all-natural pesticide,” she whispered as her stomach churned with dread.

  “And why did you resign?”

  She met his gaze. Her heart pounded in her ears and her body shook so violently, her teeth chattered.

  “I had to resign because….”

  His facial expression grew stoic, frigid, unforgiving. “Because?”

  “The aroma made me nauseous,” she answered, barely above a whisper.

  “What aroma, Grace? Garlic?”

  She refused to answer.

  “Garlic is a natural insect repellant.”

  “So are rhubarb leaves,” she squeaked out.

  “Did you use rhubarb leaves?”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth when I told you about my vampires dying?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t make the connection, at first, but now.…” Her words faltered and failed to make it past her lips.

  “But you suspected.”

  “Not right away.” She couldn’t stand by without defending herself and the program. She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Most pesticides harm the environment and even smaller animals. We tested our pesticide and found it safe for animals.”

  “But not for vampires. Where did you test your pesticide?”

  She winced, before answering. “In the woods.”

  “Where? What woods?”

  Why did he ask when he already knew the answer? “Along Ortega Highway.” Her voice came out in a strangled whisper.

  “So it was you.” His voice broke, riddled with disappointment.

  “Not me exclusively. Our team. It seemed like such a worthwhile project. Our pesticide works. It kills ticks and fleas and other disease-carrying insects. We’ve saved the lives of innocent animals.”

  Roman’s eyes turned black. He clenched his jaw.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Now you’re really scaring me. Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “Did I ever explain the reason we came to the lab?” His voice sounded low, unrecognizable.

  “Something about a feeding program.”

  “Did I ever tell you why we needed a feeding program?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, not sure of her answer. “Maybe. But I don’t remember.”

  He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “Grace, we found out what killed the vampires. The ones who died were severely allergic to garlic.”

  She grew lightheaded. Knowing his answer, she asked anyway. “Are you accusing me of killing your vampires?”

  Silence.

  “Say something, Roman. Anything.” Her chin quivered.

  His gaze flew to the front door. Seeking an escape? His silence roared, filling the room, pulverizing her heart.

  Unable and unwilling to experience his wrath—which would surely come—she fled into the sanctuary of her bedroom, slammed the door, and turned the lock.

  * * *

  Roman

  * * *

  Roman should have followed her. But he didn’t. Grace may not have been directly responsible for killing his vampires, but she certainly had a hand in it. He needed time to digest what she’d just revealed, and decide what to do with the information. But he couldn’t come to a decision with her in the next room. He needed to get away from her.

  35

  Grace

  With everything out in the open regarding Grace’s involvement in the pesticide project, she needed to do what she could from her computer.

  She still had offsite access to the software program tracking the experiment. Shortly after Roman stormed out of her apartment, she powered up her laptop and logged on.

  As she scanned the project notes, Ryan’s entry dated yesterday jumped out:

  “When re-treating a previous site, a problem arose when the sprayer malfunctioned and spilled the remainder of the pesticide in a concentrated area near the highway. Immediately, the team saturated the affected area with water in an effort to dilute the solution to make it safe for animals.”

  To ensure nothing like this happened again, Grace needed to weaken the formula immediately. Tweaking it on-line was a breeze. But there was still the problem of any formula already mixed. To alter the pesticide already prepared, she needed to get into ISC’s science building.

  She quickly changed into a pair of black maternity slacks and an oversized black, long-sleeved T-shirt. Evening classes were over at ten o’clock, and she waited an additional hour to make sure the classrooms were cleared out. Except for security guards, janitors, and a few professors, the building would be empty. If security discovered her milling around inside, she’d explain she was there to clean out her locker before going out on maternity leave. The late hour would be justified by her not wanting to disrupt classes.

  To avoid detection, she parked her Sentra among the couple dozen vehicles still in the lot. She stepped onto the pavement. Keeping her gaze forward, she swung her backpack over her shoulder, and hurried through the front door of the building. With her head down, she hiked through the lobby and up the stairs, moving at a normal pace to avoid drawing unwanted attention. Once upstairs, she quickened her steps before sprinting down the hallway.

  She saw no one.

  So far, so good.

  Getting inside the environmental lab unnoticed might be tricky. She headed left and stopped in front of a door with the words Do Not Enter emblazoned on a placard. Gripping her keycard, she glanced both ways and swiped her card in the reader. When she didn’t hear a click, she jiggled the handle. A second swipe of her card brought the same result. Someone must have deleted her access after she withdrew from the project.

  Damn efficient of them.

  Damn inconvenient for her.

  Afraid of sounding an alarm after a third attempt, she decided to try her next option—if she had one. “Okay, think,” she muttered and smacked herself in the forehead with the heel of her hand.

  Of course, that’s it.

  She hurried around the corner and stopped in front of Room 200—the lecture hall. When she noticed a keypad, relief settled in her gut. She remembered the code. Hopefully, no one had rekeyed it after she quit the highly confidential project. Drawing in a deep breath, she concentrated, trying to recall the combination.

  A smile curled her lips, and she punched in two-two-seven-zero-eight. A faint click and she turned the handle. The door cracked open and she stepped inside. She eased the door closed, leaned against it, and brought her hands to her chest. Relieved to have made it inside without detection, she let out a high-pitched giggle. When her knees stopped knocking and her heartbeat slowed, she scanned the deserted lecture hall, illuminated by outside lights.

  Valuable time was slipping away. Needing to get to work, she rushed past rows of desks before stopping in front of a door with a window. A quick peek inside verified the lab was also empty.

  “Please let it be unlocked,” she whispered. She held her breath and turned the knob.

  The door opened and she stepped inside. The glow from outside street lamps continued to provide enough light for her to see and move around safely.

  Footsteps sounded in the lecture hall. She froze. Was it her over-active imagination? She cocked her head in the direction of the sound and heard it again—louder this time. Was it one of the scien
ce professors? A janitor? Security? Or someone more sinister?

  The footfalls came closer and stopped outside the lab. If the footsteps belonged to security, how would she explain her presence in the dark lab? If she had a legit reason for being there this time of night, she’d have turned on the lights.

  Damn. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  The door handle wiggled. She forced her trembling legs to carry her behind a long counter near the wall. Snatching a glass beaker from a shelf next to the counter, she crouched, trying to hide from anyone standing outside the door. A debilitating cramp tore across her stomach. She hugged her midsection and doubled over. Dear God, please don’t let it be a labor pain. Not now! If she’d followed Dr. Shelby’s advice, she’d be home right now, instead of hiding in a science lab. The pain eased up and her focus returned to the person on the other side of the door.

  She adjusted her grip on the glass beaker and waited, prepared to strike.

  Alone. With no backup. If she hadn’t fought with Roman, he’d be here with her. Someone needed to know she might be in trouble.

  She dialed Roman’s cell phone. Maybe he would help her after all.

  The door creaked open.

  Inside the lab, a phone rang.

  Her stomach flipped. Her throat tightened.

  “Hello, Grace?” A familiar voice said.