by Lynne Silver
It was as if her body had been created to fit against his, and given the science of the situation, maybe it had been. It certainly felt that way.
*
Back on campus two hours later, she and Adam bypassed her earlier temporary housing and headed farther down the gravel path toward a cluster of single-story houses. Tricycles and other colorful plastic toys dotted the small porches, so she guessed families with young children lived here.
Adam hopped onto the porch of a house at the end of the row and turned the doorknob. She followed him in and blinked as he flicked on a harsh overhead fluorescent light bulb. Dingy beige paint covered the walls, dotted by holes and lighter square patches where pictures once hung. Mahogany parquet tiles graced the floor with a few darkened water stains. A kitchen stood facing what Loren guessed was a living room and dining room. It was clear no one had lived here for a while, but once upon a time, someone had. Someone had cared enough to hang paintings and turn this military compound into a home.
She explored further. The door on her right revealed a bedroom. The next door off the living room was a tiny bathroom with stall shower.
“You’ll live here while on campus. I’ll go find some clean sheets for the bed.” He turned and entered the first bedroom.
She watched the empty doorway for a moment then went to the couch and sank down. It had been a roller coaster of a week, starting with the Christenson kidnapping and now here she was in the middle of a strange military base with a man her body wanted beyond all reason.
The man in question appeared in the doorway looking somber. “Bed’s made.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m heading up to the main office for a strategy meeting. You coming?”
She stood, thrilled to have been asked without having to beg to participate. “Just like that? You’re letting me in the secret circle.”
“You were at the party. Maybe you saw something I missed. I’m not so hardheaded as to ignore an opportunity.”
She followed him out the door and into the sunshine. “That’s right. You’re Mr. Strategy.”
“When it comes to some things.” He shrugged.
She guessed he referred to military-type things. Because he was missing any strategy gene when it came to relationships with the opposite sex. He had her cold then hot, and back again.
“So, um, we haven’t really talked about us since last night.”
He looked over at her and raised a brow. “I’m doing my best not to touch you. I’m not the man you need in your life.” His face was set, determined.
An unexpected rush of anger filled her. “I never said you were.”
“Fine, I’m not. Feel better?”
“Feel better?” She rose onto her tiptoes and leaned toward him. “Hell no, that doesn’t make me feel better. You’re driving me crazy, Adam.”
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off at the pass. “I’m getting whiplash from trying to figure out where this is going. Your boss wants us to be a done deal and make babies. You obviously don’t want to, and that’s fine. I’m not exactly ready for parenthood either. Why can’t this just be about sex? Why are you focused on the end game?”
He groaned when she demanded it just be about sex. “Loren. Shut up and listen to me.” Adam stopped on the grassy hill and turned to face her.
He acted angrier than Loren had ever seen him. Granted, she’d only known him going on forty-eight hours now, but she could tell he was upset. Well, bully for him, she was angry too. She stared, waiting for his response.
“It can’t be just about the sex. If that’s all it was, I’d take you back to that house to the bed and not let you go until I was done with you, but that’s the problem. We’re never going to be done with each other.”
She swallowed.
“Our scientists have proven over and over again there’s more to the genetic matching than simple chemistry. The longer we’re together, the harder it will be to separate. We have to do it now before it gets too difficult. If things were different, I wouldn’t fight it. But I have to, Loren. I have to.”
He sounded…broken. She didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t ask why. Please.”
The emotion in his voice got to her. If he didn’t want her to ask, she wouldn’t. At least not now, but she would find out. Eventually. “Okay. I won’t ask, but I’m a pretty good listener and I will keep your confidence. Always.”
He nodded and looked her hard in the eye, as if trying to decide whether to share or not. Finally he shook his head and turned to walk back up the hill. “Let’s go find Christenson’s kid.”
Chapter Seven
“Did you know Christenson and his wife went through several IVF treatments to have the baby?” She looked up from the screen to survey Adam huddled with Gavin, Chase and others. They were discussing what little information they had from the police, while she had volunteered to research everything about the couple. Perhaps they had an enemy with a motive.
Adam shrugged. “Do you think that’s important?”
She turned back to the screen. “No, but I find it interesting they went all the way to London for a fertility clinic. Doesn’t the DC metro area have perfectly adequate medical care?”
“It’s more interesting to us why someone took the kid at the party. Why not at the house?” he asked, then turned away at Gavin’s shout.
“We got Christenson on the line.”
The men slid their chairs back so only Commander Shepard was viewable by Christenson on the video chat. Loren crept closer to see but not enough to be seen. The poor ambassador looked as if he’d aged twenty years in the days since his son’s disappearance. Her heart ached for him.
“Commander Shepard, why are you bothering my family? Haven’t you done enough?”
“Christenson, we’ve apologized already. Now let us help.”
“The FBI and a private investigator are joining the search. Why should I trust your team when they let him get taken in the first place? I should’ve known better than to hire killers as protection.”
Adam visibly winced and the muscle in Shepard’s jaw tightened. He didn’t apologize again, though. “Christenson, the more people looking, the faster your son will be found.”
At length, Christenson nodded. “Very well. I will have the FBI send any information on leads your way.” The screen went gray.
Loren went back to her research, deciding to look into the background of Christenson’s household employees. Surely the police had already done so, but a fresh pair of eyes could help. But as she went to type a different website into the search bar, something caught her attention toward the bottom of the search results about the fertility clinic. She scrolled down and clicked on the link to the article about another kidnapped child. This one from Germany.
She read through the article quickly. “Adam,” she called and waited for him to come closer. “Check this out.” She gestured to the screen and reread the account of another missing baby, also taken just after his first birthday. Adam read over her shoulder. “Guess what the connection is?” she asked.
“The clinic?”
She nodded. “Both families went through in vitro fertilization at the same place.”
“Gavin,” Adam said, “run a search for every kidnapping in Europe for the last year.”
“On it.” Gavin turned to his computer.
Loren went to the website for the clinic located outside of London and read the history of the clinic, client testimonials and marketing claims. “Whoa. Fancy schmancy.”
“What is?” Adam leaned over her shoulder to read and released a low whistle when he saw the average cost of using First Choice Fertility. “You gotta be loaded or want a kid really, really badly to spend that kind of dough.”
“Supposedly they have the highest successful birth rate of any clinic in the world. Couples have to like those odds and, hmmm,” she leaned in to read the rest, “they offer ‘genetic choice’.”
“What do they mean by
that?” Adam asked.
“It means they let parents pick gender and eye color among other things.”
“For real?” Adam leaned closer. “Does it work?”
She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. “Helloo? You are a genetically enhanced human. Of course it works.”
He frowned. “The babies are perfect? Everything the parents order?”
She shrugged. “I guess.” There was something odd in his tone. She couldn’t figure it out and didn’t get a chance to ask him before Gavin called to them.
“I ran the search, and guess what?”
“What?” Adam asked.
“Your girl’s a genius.”
Loren felt a blush heat her cheeks.
“I searched for all European kidnappings in the last eighteen months and then cross-referenced children conceived at First Choice Fertility.”
“And?” Loren leaned her elbows onto her thighs. They were onto something. The tingling at the back of her neck told her.
“Christenson’s kid makes it the fourth abduction from the clinic. You found the connection, Loren,” Gavin said. “All the previous kidnappings took place in different countries, so none of the local authorities made a connection or worked together.” At his words all other conversations in the room stopped and then started up again as everyone gathered around the large conference table in the center of the room. Shep started barking out orders.
“Chase, you’re getting on a flight first thing tomorrow to go to First Choice. Gavin, arrange transportation. Loren…” The room fell silent and her stomach somersaulted as all eyes latched onto her. “Can you call the parents of the other missing children, as well as the other families who used the clinic if we get you a list?”
She nodded, stunned to be included.
“I know you’re a civilian, but this needs a woman’s touch. Pretend you’re a mother interested in using the clinic. Can you do that?” Shep asked, though it sounded more like an order.
She nodded again.
“Adam will be on the phone with you, playing the role of doting dad-to-be.” Shep kept talking over Adam’s objection. His aversion to parenthood was so strong, he couldn’t even pretend to co-parent with her.
“Adam, relax,” she whispered.
He didn’t look at her and maintained a scowl for the rest of Commander Shepard’s instructions. My goodness, the man had issues when it came to babies and children. It was a good thing she had no immediate plans of utilizing the genetic and strong sexual connection between them to start a family with him. He obviously had to work through some things.
“Any questions?” Shep asked from one end of the room. The only response was the beep of Adam’s phone. Shep frowned as Adam left the room to answer it, but then gave a last order, “Get to it!”
*
Dear Billy,
Adam crawled into bed again with me last night. He used to have nightmares regularly. They’ve slowed, but at least once a month he comes screaming into my bed asking when his Da Da is coming home. I don’t have the heart to tell him never.
Diane
“What?” Adam barked into his phone after checking his caller ID and excusing himself from the room. “Rowan, whatever it is, I don’t have time for it.”
“You never got time,” his wayward brother said. “You need to quit that desk job of yours and come hang with your boys back home. You shoulda been here last night. Man, oh man. The blunts was rolling and the ladies was flowing, if you get me.”
He squeezed the phone hard. Don’t hang up. He’s your brother. You love him. “Why are you calling, Rowan? What do you need?”
“Ouch, that hurts. Can’t your baby bro call to chat? I worry about you. I ain’t heard from you in a few weeks. I worried that tie you wear to work got wrapped around your thick neck and strangled you.”
“What do you need?” Adam asked again.
“Weeelll, now you mention it. Got in a little sticky situation last night.”
Shit. If Rowan thought it was a little sticky, reality dictated it would be a full-on glass of honey with a little Super Glue chaser. Christ, you’d think a twenty-seven-year-old male would’ve learned by now. But no, his brother continued to act half his age.
“What happened?” Adam asked, mentally bracing himself. The timing sucked. Of all the days Rowan called needing a hand, this was a bad one. He needed to be hunting for Christenson’s kid, not ditching work to head to Shaw, a tough neighborhood in DC.
“Things at the party last night got a little heated. Words were said, guns were drawn.”
“Tell me no one got killed,” he demanded. Crap. If it weren’t for memories and promises to his mother, he’d abandon Rowan to sort out his own shit, but those memories always dragged him back in as a savior. Take care of your baby brother. He needs you. He released a sigh at Rowan’s next words.
“No one got killed, man. We’re not sixteen-year-old gangstas anymore. Didn’t you hear, we got gentrified? Even got our own Whole Foods now.”
“Get to the point, Ro,” Adam said.
“One of the ladies at the party was new to the city. She freaked out and actually called the cops.”
He heard the disbelief in Rowan’s tone. Where they grew up, police were the enemy. You did not call them for protection. Ever. He didn’t even bother asking Rowan why they were packing heat if they weren’t a gang anymore. Only an idiot didn’t carry if everyone else was.
“Rowan, is this your one phone call? Are you calling me from jail?” Adam didn’t know what he’d do. He’d already pulled strings once to bust him out.
“No, I’m not in jail, Adam.” His brother’s hurt seeped through the phone. “I got taken in for questioning, because it was my house, but they let me go. Chris got arrested though. I’m going to have to testify in court, and I wanted your advice. You know, you’re the big shot lawyer and all that.”
His stomach clenched in his knowledge that all lies come back to bite you in the balls. Rowan was in the dark about many things. Mom, Dad, Adam’s occupation, his own birth. One of these days Adam was going to have to come clean. That day was arriving. Might, in fact, already be here.
“Rowan, you probably won’t need a lawyer. When is Chris’ trial?” He bit out the words, while every second away from work was gnawing at his gut. He needed to be strategizing. Not helping his brother out of yet another scrape.
“Don’t know. They said they’d contact me. A few months maybe,” Rowan answered.
Relief swamped Adam. He had time before he had to confess and introduce Rowan to a dad he never knew existed and his dad to a son he thought was dead. “Rowan, stay home. I will come by in a few days. A week at the most,” he reassured his baby brother.
Rowan sighed, probably sure he was being blown off, but finally said goodbye.
Adam took a calming breath before heading back in to play daddy with Loren. He tried not to think about her hurt and confusion every time he rejected her. If things were different, he’d sign up for the breeding program with a permanent marker. Loren only made the temptation even stronger. He pictured her warm smile and how she’d looked sputtering up from the pool last night with water streaming from her curls. He’d laughed more with her in the past forty-eight hours than he had in the last year. Hell, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman. Period. Too bad he couldn’t keep her.
Three days later
The shouts of teenagers running and kicking a soccer ball penetrated the thin glass windows of her temporary home. Shouts of laughter and good-natured taunts followed even louder. After a few days on the compound Loren recognized some of the voices and smiled. She lay on her bed, researching some facts about the fertility clinic, hoping Chase would return from London soon and add more information. Every hour Christenson’s son was missing was another hour of heartbreak for the family.
One mouse click switched her screen over from the internet to word processer where she had a few rough notes and records of conversations with other parents o
f missing children along with the beginnings of an article about the kidnapping and the fertility clinic. She hadn’t mentioned the latter project to Shep and Adam. She knew they’d put the kibosh on it.
Every moment Adam left her alone she snatched the opportunity to plug away at her article. Guilt gnawed at her, but she wasn’t ready to give up her career goal of earning a lead byline in the paper. She was a journalist first and foremost. It was their problem for trusting her not to report on her groundbreaking findings. A few more keystrokes and she hit save.
Loren slid the laptop back into her bag and stretched out on the bed. It was starting to feel like home in a strange summer-camp kind of way. That is, if she were the only female in an all-male camp. Oh there were other women, but they were the married spouses and tended not to hang around the bachelor soldiers much. She’d seen them in passing, but they ate in their own homes and not in the cafeteria where she’d been taking her meals.
Speaking of which, her stomach growled. She hoped Adam got back soon. He’d left her half an hour ago, promising to be back in ten minutes. Something about a mission gone wrong. She hoped everything was okay.
She’d enjoyed working with Adam. He’d proven to be an excellent work partner. As long as she ignored her need to jump her colleague’s bones every minute of the day. But so far, nothing had happened. They’d both managed to keep their hands to themselves and restricted themselves to heated glances and tiny sighs of frustration.
Her stomach growled again, and she got off the bed in her temporary room. Something had to be wrong, since she’d learned Adam was punctual to a fault. She’d have to go for food herself. She needed some chow. Now. She opened the door and headed down the porch steps to exit the building for the dining hall. She walked along the gravel paths, enjoying the surprising summer breeze that had swept in last night. It carried a subtle hint of fall in the air, her favorite season.