Nope...not looking forward to that at all.
“Are we almost there?” she asked, tossing back a few nibbles. “I have to pee again. Small bladder. Bane of my existence.”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Another half hour.”
She groaned but otherwise fell silent and Jake was glad. He needed to regroup. Get it together, he told himself. Easier said than done.
* * *
When Kat found herself humming, she nearly barked a short laugh. There was nothing remotely cheery about her current situation and yet she felt strangely content to be sitting in the passenger seat next to Jake, driving to who knows where to evade who knows who so as not to be kidnapped and forced to create a weapon of mass destruction. When she broke it down, her silly humming was ludicrous. But she liked spending time with Jake. Were all government agents as handsome as he was? She was mooning over her captor. She pursed her lips. How did she feel about that? She considered herself a relatively logical person but the way she felt about Jake was completely irrational. And possibly dangerous. A subtle thrill curled itself around her spine and she shuddered. How many times had she wished something exciting would happen to her? Too many to count. Her uncle had warned her to be careful what she wished for.
Her hormones were playing badminton with her brain, because she was having estrogen-soaked fantasies that featured Jake Isaacs in all his (naked) glory. Of course, she had to fill in the blanks because she hadn’t actually seen Jake in his birthday suit and, to be honest, she didn’t have all that many other naked men experiences to help her imagination along but male anatomy was basically the same, right?
She certainly didn’t want to die a virgin. Bigger problems, she reminded herself dryly, but she swatted that thought away. Kat had lived her entire life being a certain way and now circumstances had come along to challenge that in a big way. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been putting the emphasis on all the wrong things. Not that her research wasn’t important—goodness gracious, no—but maybe she should’ve spent a little less time in the lab and more interacting with real people. Monkeys are no substitute for humans. And now she was woefully undereducated in the ways of how to successfully flirt and engage in coy banter with the opposite sex. Her one attempt at seduction had blown up in her face, leaving her embarrassed and feeling pathetic but she wasn’t going to give up, because she wanted Jake and she wanted him bad.
“How many women have you slept with?” she blurted out, and Jake did a quick double take.
“What? Why?” he asked.
“Don’t be shy. Just tell me. I promise not to judge you. Besides, with the whole double standard thing it’s impossible for men to come off as promiscuous no matter how many sexual partners they’ve had.”
“I’m not promiscuous.”
She smiled with relief. “Oh, that’s good to know. But you’ve had enough experience to know what you’re doing, right?” Smooth. Real smooth. “I mean, making love doesn’t always come naturally, right? You have to learn your thing and your moves. I read somewhere that you’re only as good in bed as your last lover.” Which meant, since she’d never had a lover, she technically stunk. “Never mind. Just making conversation,” she finished, her cheeks heating. “Feel free to pretend that I never said anything.”
Jake paused as if he was going to remind her that they shouldn’t talk about such personal topics, but he surprised her with an answer. “I’ve slept with five women in my lifetime.”
“Only five?”
He cracked a smile that was plainly adorable and possibly made her ovaries quiver as he said, “Yeah, only five. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve—” Don’t say it! If she admitted she was a virgin he might get weird about knocking boots and she’d already decided that Jake was the one she wanted to initiate her into official womanhood. “Not having been with many people myself,” she finished with a short smile. “But I am surprised for the aforementioned reasons.”
He nodded in understanding, leaning his elbow against the door to rest his head against his fingertips. He looked cool like James Dean and Marlon Brando—A Streetcar Named Desire Brando, not The Godfather Brando—and Kat decided she had to know what it was like to be pressed up against a man like Jake as her copilot, particularly if she were on a collision course with danger. “I shouldn’t be talking about stuff like this but, what the hell, the road is long and the drive boring. I don’t sleep around because I find one-night stands unsatisfying. I need some kind of emotional connection necessary to fully enjoy a sexual encounter.”
Did he just blush a little? Yes. He did and it was awesome. Kat smiled. “I think that’s cool. I know some guys are pretty cavalier about their encounters.”
“Yeah, just not my style. Plus, after I broke up with my girlfriend, I wasn’t much interested in seeing anyone socially.”
“Did she break your heart?” Kat asked, curious.
“Yeah, well, I think we did plenty of damage to one another. It was probably even. But we both decided we were better off without the other.”
“Did you cheat on her?”
“No.”
Why that mattered to Kat, she wasn’t sure but when he answered, she felt the tension she wasn’t even aware she was holding on to leave her shoulders. “So what went wrong?”
He shrugged. “Who knows. Probably just came down to the fact that we were going in separate directions and neither wanted to compromise.”
“Do you regret breaking up?”
“If you’re asking if I wish we were still together, the answer is no. If you’re asking if I regret how I handled myself within the relationship, then yes. How about you?” he asked, turning the conversation back to her. “What kind of skeletons are dancing in your closet?”
Sadly...none. She didn’t have any old boyfriends to lament. Time to change the subject. “Are we close? Not to ruin this awesome moment between us, but my bladder is really going to spring a leak if you know what I mean.”
He laughed and didn’t seem to notice that she’d completely avoided answering. “Yeah, two minutes and we’re there. Can you hold your water until then?”
She nodded in relief but she was more relieved that she didn’t need to make up war stories about the boyfriends she’d never had.
Really? First-world problems, she said to herself with an eye roll.
What could she say? It was the truth—a pathetic truth—but truth nonetheless.
Chapter 9
“Assuming it does what you say it does...I imagine we’d be interested in paying top dollar,” the man across the table said, fingers toying with the straw wrapper from his straw but his eyes were deadly focused. “But then, how do we know it even works? What you’re promising is a pretty tall order. The first of its kind.”
“I have someone on the inside of Tessara Pharm who’s been keeping tabs on the various experiments.”
“And what is this Tessara Pharm?”
“A research lab and facility with its fingers in many pies. They manufacture a number of classified drugs the government uses that are not available to the private sector. There was a scuffle a while back about one of the founders but that’s all been taken care of and they’re back in business. Thankfully, only upper management was aware of this bump in the road. The busy bees in the lab kept on doing their work, productive as ever and one particular bee was very industrious, creating the drug that I’ve been explaining to you.”
“How does Tessara get around the FDA with their government projects?”
He graced the man with a patronizing look. “Really? The FDA? Easily bought if you know the right people. You and I both know that there are certain factions within the FDA who have been willing to look the other way if the right amount of money has crossed palms.”
“At times, yes, but those
types of deals are shaky at best. Eventually, someone talks and rolls over. Such a potential scandal is not in our best interests.”
At the man’s open discomfort, he swallowed his irritation and said in a conciliatory tone, “I understand your concern. Your buyer certainly doesn’t want to be tied to anything that might go sour. I can guarantee that won’t happen.”
“How?”
“Because this drug was a mistake and deemed a total failure. In fact, the scientist who created it was about to scrap the samples. I was able to procure a very limited quantity and field-test it myself.”
At that the man, known only as Mr. Blue, leaned forward with interest. “I want to see it for myself.”
“As I said, the sample was limited and also, unfortunately, unstable. Our field test wasn’t entirely successful but we feel very confident that once we have possession of the scientist, she will be able to work out the kinks in the formula.”
“Why do you need the scientist? If you could get the samples, why not her research notes? Surely, you have scientists in your employ who can follow a road map someone else had drawn?”
“Of course we do,” he said, shifting with mild embarrassment. “But they can’t make heads or tails of her notes. Apparently, she wrote in some kind of code that only she understands.”
“Why would she do that?” he asked.
“Hell if I know,” he grumbled, freshly annoyed at being made to look foolish. It wasn’t often that he found himself in that position and he didn’t like it. If he hadn’t needed that scientist, he would’ve put a bullet in her head for good measure. “But you needn’t worry. We have the scientist in our possession and she will perfect her formula.”
Mr. Blue scowled. “You’re asking my client to pay millions for a faulty formula? If this is a joke, I find it in entirely bad taste.”
“I wouldn’t dream of playing you false, Mr. Blue. Let me show you,” he said, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and going to the video files. He pressed play and handed it to the man. The man’s expression went from annoyed to curious and then shock. He smiled as Mr. Blue returned the phone. “Dr. Odgers had limited opportunity to truly field-test the formula because her research was limited to the monkey test subjects. We were able to procure human subjects to test the sample. As you can see...the results are quite promising.”
“Yes,” Mr. Blue agreed, rubbing his chin in thought. “Until his eyes rolled into his head and he fell over. Is he dead?”
“No, but the poor bastard will not be doing any mental calisthenics anytime soon.”
“Brain dead?”
“Regrettably.”
“Well, that’s no good. The allure of the drug is the clean nature of its ability to erase memory.”
“I agree, which is why we are procuring the scientist and she will fix that little problem.”
“And what if she can’t?”
“She will.”
“Your confidence borders on arrogance but I cannot take those assurances to the bank. We’re talking a lot of money. We will not pay for a faulty drug.”
“And I would never presume to ask you to. However, there’s a certain level of risk involved for me.”
“Yes, I would assume so. What’s your interest in doing this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Money?”
“Of course,” he answered coolly but that was only the surface answer. He couldn’t explain the rush he got from selling government secrets. He’d been doing it for years under the radar—nothing that could be traced back to him, of course—and those secrets had nicely lined his bank account but the game had turned stale. Until MCX-209. He’d always speculated that the newest hot ticket in espionage and terrorism would be found in technological and pharmaceutical advances, which is why he’d cleverly made a friend within Tessara Pharm who funneled information to him on the current experiments with promise or interest. And that one decision was about to pay off in dividends beyond his wildest dreams. But now he had to deal with the unpleasant aspect of backdoor deals and Mr. Blue wasn’t going to like what he had to say so he might as well get it over with. “I should warn you that you are not the only interested buyer,” he said, throwing it out there without apology.
Mr. Blue’s stare narrowed. “This was not an exclusive offer?”
“I apologize for the misunderstanding but no. Whoever ponies up the most cash—the fastest—will get the formula. I am effectively ruining my career for this deal. Surely, you can understand my need to get the most bang for my buck.”
“Send me the video and I will show my people,” he growled, clearly unhappy. “We will be in touch.”
“Of course,” he said, nodding. “I await your call.”
Mr. Blue—a dangerous man in an expensive suit—melted into the throng of people clustered around the outdoor patio dining area and disappeared.
He chuckled and tucked his phone back into his suit pocket for safekeeping. Now, all he needed was that damn scientist. If Jake Isaacs didn’t deliver, he’d just have to find someone else who would.
Failure wasn’t an option.
But death certainly was.
* * *
Jake found Nathan’s place without too many wrong turns and, while it wasn’t much to look at, Jake appreciated its strategic advantages. He had a clear vantage point from every direction and there was little fear of anyone sneaking up on them, which Jake found a plus. Added to the fact that no one knew where they were, was another advantage.
Kat surveyed the expansive view of the Sierra Nevada mountain range and said, “Your brother have a thing against neighbors?”
“He likes his privacy,” Jake answered, opening the front door and motioning for her to follow. After a quick perimeter search, Jake returned to the car and retrieved their gear as well as what they had left in food, which wasn’t much.
“Check the cupboards and see if there’s anything edible around while I look for batteries,” he instructed, going straight for the drawers. Rifling through them, he found a stash of batteries and began putting fresh ones into the lamps. At her questioning look, he explained, “No power. My brother didn’t want anything that might compromise his position, if the need ever arose.”
“Geesh, was he preparing for the apocalypse?” she asked, opening a cupboard to reveal a cache of MREs. She grimaced at the realization that she was looking at their dinner. “So, no power...what about the toilets? There are toilets, right?”
“Of course, but they’re compost toilets.”
“I know what that is in theory but I’ve never actually used one,” she admitted, secretly hating the idea of using anything aside from a regular commode for her business. “Is it complicated?”
“Not at all. It’s all contained. Go see for yourself. It looks just like a regular toilet, except solids go in one place and liquids go in another.”
She groaned. “Why can’t it just be a regular toilet like everyone else in the world uses?” she asked, succumbing to a moment of whining.
“What happened to the woman who wanted to limit her footprint? Compost toilets are very green.”
“They’re very gross,” she argued.
“Well, you could squat behind a bush, I suppose,” Jake said, shrugging, but added as if to soften his suggestion, “We won’t be here long. Chances are we’ll be gone in a day or two.”
She nodded and grabbed a lamp. “Well, I guess I’d better get acquainted with this green technology because I have to pee. Are there any instructions?”
“I could show you or you could read the diagram taped to the wall.”
“I’ll figure it out,” Kat said with a grumble, not interested in talking about bathroom stuff with Jake. She was a genius for crying out loud. If she couldn’t figure out how to work a toilet, she didn’t deserve to call hers
elf a scientist.
“In the meantime, I’ll fire up some dinners. Any preference?” he called out, and she responded by slamming the bathroom door. Preference was an illusion when it came to MRE dining. She’d give anything for her processed macaroni and cheese.
Kat placed the lamp on the rudimentary vanity and stared at the simple toilet that looked as if it belonged in an old folk’s home and sighed with resignation as her bladder protested the holdup. After a quick read-through of the instructions, she did her business and successfully used the compost toilet. Not so bad, she thought. But there was no way she was giving up her commode. No way. She’d give up plastic bags and if she ever had kids, she’d promise to use cloth diapers but she was not going to change to a composting toilet.
“See that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jake teased, sliding her MRE of spaghetti and meatballs across the counter toward her.
Kat stopped the plate of Frankenfood and graced Jake with a look that said he was crazy. “Wait until you have to empty the liquid reservoir...that ought to be fun.”
“I’m sure I’ve dealt with far worse in the past,” he assured her, shoveling a bite into his mouth as if he were enjoying a plate of the finest cuisine. He gestured to her plate. “Eat up. This stuff doesn’t taste good cold.”
“It doesn’t taste good hot, either,” she quipped, but scooped a mouthful because she was starving. She had the metabolism of a hummingbird and she needed food. “Okay, this one isn’t as bad as the last one I ate but I wouldn’t choose to eat this.”
“Why not?” Jake asked, frowning. “It’s perfect fuel.”
“Food is not just fuel. Food is a sensory orchestra.”
“If you say so.”
“Haven’t you ever experienced food that is so good, it’s like a song in your mouth?”
“No.”
“You haven’t lived, then,” Kat decided, taking another bite and pretending it was far better than it was. “My uncle was an amazing cook. When he got stuck with me, he’d finally been accepted into Cordon Bleu in San Francisco but he knew he couldn’t complete the course work with a kid waiting for him at home, so he declined the invitation. But he never stopped trying to be the best he could be in the kitchen. He could make anything taste good. His one regret was that he couldn’t shake my preference for processed macaroni and cheese. He tried so hard, too. Once, he made an organic baked macaroni and cheese and it was pretty good but it was missing that certain something. But I loved him for trying.” She tried to keep the wistfulness from her voice but she couldn’t help it. Talking about her uncle was always a trigger for the waterworks. She straightened and poked at her noodles. “Anyway, my uncle introduced me to culinary masterpieces I never would’ve thought to try on my own.”
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