His blond hair fluttered in the warm breeze, making him look even more … gah. Food, she needed to focus on food. She picked up the menu and hid behind it. Quickly scanning the menu, she chose the first vegetarian thing she saw, a mushroom, spinach, and avocado quesadilla. It sounded perfect, but her stomach was so squeezed with nervous excitement, she wasn’t sure she could eat it. She returned the menu to the table and looked up at Six, who looked concerned.
“Are you okay, Lou?” he asked, quietly.
Louisa looked around behind her. “It’s just … a lot,” she said, not feeling the need to hide behind her stoic mask.
Six reached across the table. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
She nodded. “I do.”
“Hey, I’m Carrie. Can I take your order?” the server asked as she approached them.
“Yeah. Can we get it to go? We just found out we need to leave.”
They told Carrie what they wanted and she hurried away to deal with their order.
Relief battled with disappointment. She wasn’t certain how much longer she could have sat in such a busy restaurant, although it had felt nice for a millisecond to act like a normal person. But disappointment washed through her. Going home to eat her Mexican alone instead of sitting outside and enjoying Six’s company sucked.
When the food arrived at the table in one big bag, Six settled the bill and led Lou quickly away onto one of the quieter side streets. “Breathe, Lou,” he said as he walked toward his silver truck. He grabbed a blanket from inside the truck, then handed her the bag of food before he pulled down the tailgate.
“Hop on up,” he said, slipping his hands around her waist to give her a boost up. The move caught her off guard.
“What? Why am I…?”
Six hopped up alongside her. Literally hopped. He placed one hand on the bed, then before she could figure out how he did it, he was standing behind her and offering her his hand.
“I want to eat dinner with you in a place you are comfortable. There’s nobody here in this side street,” he said, turning in a circle and gesturing with his hand. “And this,” he said, laying the blanket down on the bed of the truck, “is our own private restaurant.”
The tightness in her chest that had been plaguing her since she’d first seen him on the street relaxed. He still wanted to have dinner with her. And in a tiny, small way, she loved him for that.
CHAPTER FOUR
Once upon a time, Monday mornings had been the greatest thing ever. It was the opportunity to wake up and start a whole new week of experimentation and research. But today, Louisa wanted to hide under the quilt. Rules were her thing. They’d gotten her through her SATs. They’d gotten her through college. Science and mathematics were filled with rules. The circumference of a circle would always equal pi multiplied by the diameter. The inferior vena cava would always carry deoxygenated blood to the heart. And Louisa North adhered to every rule. Every rule.
So why was she contemplating heading into the lab like a bad Bond villain to secretly discard the dangerous sample that still sat, mislabeled, at the bottom of the refrigeration unit? Although she was more of the good guy. More Moneypenny, less Oddjob. Louisa threw her arm across her eyes. Whoever wanted the sample already had all the notes on how to make the damn thing. Except sometimes, it was better to use a base solution to test from and run more tests on the sample before it headed into any kind of mass production. Though who the hell would want to mass produce a drug that didn’t work and that had horrid side effects?
Louisa shoved the covers out of the way with a huff and got ready for work. In the shower, it occurred to her that she might have watched way too many Jason Bourne movies. Not everything was a conspiracy to be thwarted. While eating homemade banana and oatmeal muffins covered in peanut butter, she decided against doing anything. First, she’d check in with Ivan and Vasilii to see what the internal review had found and what the police had said. If this was just some grabby-hand lab tech who wanted to try to make a few bucks by taking an unsuccessful lab sample to another lab, then the sample was fine where it was. Although she was pretty certain that the police would have to notify the FBI if that had happened, and she most definitely didn’t want to hand the sample to the government.
Damn. She was back to conspiracies again.
On the way out of the door, she grabbed Six’s sweater, the one he’d loaned her as the night had dropped cooler as they had sat in the back of his truck. He’d leaned back on one side of the truck, she’d rested against the other. They’d talked for hours. Well, mostly he’d talked, and she’d asked questions and listened. Talking about herself wasn’t high on her priority list. He’d told her about his company and the kind of work they were hoping to do. She wondered if he realized just how animated he became as he talked about Cabe and Mac. It had been entertaining to listen to the mischievous stories of their youth.
Long after they’d finished their meal, they’d stayed in the back of the truck, even though her butt had gone numb. He never touched her again. Not even once. Well, except to help her down out of his truck. He’d insisted on driving her to her car, and they’d listened to Nina Simone, an artist she’d only ever had a passing interest in but he seemed to know a lot about. Now Louisa had her greatest hits on her phone.
Once she got in her car she set it to play. Maybe Nina could help her screw her head on straight. She hated the idea that her lab had been violated and was disappointed that Vasilii had allowed the cameras inside to remain broken. They’d have to discard everything in there if they couldn’t guarantee it hadn’t been tampered with.
Traffic cooperated, and she found herself at work early. After she’d dropped her bag into her locker, she headed upstairs to Vasilii’s office. He was the ultimate early riser and was often the first person to reach the building in the morning. Liz was already seated at her desk.
“Morning, Liz. Is Vasilii in?” she asked.
Liz smiled softly. “He is, and I just took him coffee. Can I get you one, dear?”
Coffee was such a good idea. “Only if you are getting one for yourself. You don’t need to go to that effort on my account.”
“My pleasure. Go on in. I’ll bring it to you.”
Louisa knocked and pushed the large wooden door open. “Hey, Vasilii. Can I bother you for a moment?”
Vasilii wrapped up the large blueprints on the table to make room for her. “Of course. Come and sit down. Your mother mentioned she took a spill. Is she okay?”
She was fine, if you ignored the fact she’d spent a large percent of the weekend complaining that Lucan hadn’t been overly companionable. He’d only shown his face once over the weekend and had stayed the sum total of twenty-three minutes. Louisa knew because she’d timed him. “It was a pretty clean break. She needs six to eight weeks in a cast. We hired a nurse to help her with day-to-day things like bathing.”
“If you need some time off to go be with her, we can most definitely arrange it. If you feel you should be there…”
“Thank you, Vasilii, but I think it is better for both of us that she has help and I go see her every day.”
Vasilii squinted his eyes at her. “Are you sure? I feel like this would be a good idea. Yes?”
Louisa shook her head. “No. Thank you. I came to see about the missing sample,” she said, changing the subject. “Were you able to find the person who took it?”
Abruptly, Vasilii pushed his chair away from the desk and stood before putting the blueprints on his shelf. “We are still working on it,” he said. “We have some suspects.”
“But if you haven’t found anyone yet, should we call the police?”
Vasilii returned to the table and sat back down. “Of course we’ve informed all the relevant parties,” he said. “Our reputation is paramount, and I won’t have anybody mess with it. Listen, you have enough to worry about, Louisa,” he said. “With your mother and all. Please. Leave this to me to deal with. I’ll let you know if you can be of help.”
&nbs
p; Liz bustled in and gave Lou her coffee. “Enjoy, my love.”
“Thanks, Liz.”
Liz picked up a stack of mail from Vasilii’s desk and walked out again.
“Louisa. I’m grateful that you care so much about this. But it is probably nothing for us to worry about.”
She stood and picked up her coffee. “I certainly hope so.”
The lack of progress was a concern. Without knowing why the sample was taken, it was impossible to know whether someone had messed with other samples. She hated the thought of having to dispose of the brain slice she’d been sent; the very idea squeezed at her chest. It was hard to find donors for medical research, and the body parts were treated like gold once they were. A highly valuable commodity, and a once-in-a-million chance to figure out in real time what had caused the condition they suffered from.
Louisa wandered into the break room, which was still quiet. She sipped her coffee while looking out over the parking lot. The gray sky would soon be brilliantly lit by the late August sunshine. Perhaps it was time for her to go see a doctor. Her mind was telling her that there was something strange about the way Vasilii had answered her question about the police. He’d never said yes. All he’d done was tell her that he’d called the relevant authorities. But the man had been a friend of her family’s for years. He treated her like a daughter. Her heart was telling her there was nothing strange about the way he was handling it … but her mind. It was on fast-forward. She could barely keep up with the doubt and paranoia it was creating.
Louisa rinsed her mug in the sink and placed it into the dishwasher. No closer to understanding what was going on, she knew there was one thing she could do. It was small, and it might not even reduce the risk.
Determined, she returned to the lab. Ivan wouldn’t be in for another hour. Not such an early riser. She hurried into her lab coat and protective clothes and entered the air unit. Once inside the lab, she grabbed the sample from the fridge and a large bottle of bleach, then headed to the sink they disposed of biomedical waste in. She mixed the sample and bleach together, neutralizing its properties and destroying it forever.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh my God. Ivan.” She placed her hand over her chest. “You made me jump.”
Ivan picked up the sample bottle. “Clearing out? What was this?”
Thinking quickly on her feet, she said the only plausible thing he would buy. “With the lab being compromised, and us not knowing what was tampered with, I thought we should clean house. It sucks to get rid of some of this work, but what good is continuing if we aren’t a hundred percent certain what we are working with.”
Ivan studied her at length, and she got the sneaking suspicion he was testing her. “Don’t you think that is a little premature?”
She shook her head. “We don’t have any footage in here of what they touched, even if whoever took it was only in here for a few moments.” God, it was ridiculous to doubt Ivan.
He stared for a few more seconds. “Okay. I’ll go get more bleach.”
Louisa let out a huge breath as she watched his back disappear out of the lab. She needed someone to think this through with, and the only person she could think of was Six.
* * *
Six put the phone down and leaned back in his office chair. One of his old CIA contacts was eager to know when he might be able to call on Eagle for support, especially for more sensitive operations on US soil. The politics of navigating the CIA’s growing powers to manage terrorism with the role of the FBI and local law enforcement aside, that was exactly the kind of work they wanted to get into, and Six had told his contact that they were willing and able to jump in. But today he had a class full of wannabe security guards who he needed to put through their paces. It was another one of Mac’s ideas. Eagle Securities–certified guards, with the attendees paying a thousand bucks for a three-day training course. Gaz and Joel had spent the prior day with them, teaching modules on the basics—setting up, preplanning, how to conduct perimeter checks, etc. Today he would present modules on everything from tactical identification of threat to close combat and restraint. Friday was on Cabe.
He’d also had two interviews for new operators and a long to-do list that involved finding a reputable lawyer in Iraq, as contractors there were subject to Iraqi law. If they were going to do any kind of work for the CIA overseas, they’d need legal representation in most of the countries they operated in, just as backup. No point waiting until an op went to shit, or a brother was arrested on trumped-up charges. He’d started by reaching out to a friend of his in the Naval Special Warfare Development Group who’d ensured that kind of thing was in place for the SEAL teams in the past.
“Yo, Six,” Buddha shouted as he walked into the training area. “There’s a woman looking for you out front.”
“On it. Thanks.” He walked toward the reception area and pressed the green button at the side of the door to unlock it. With a shove, it opened, and there in the lobby was Louisa, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was looking toward the floor as always, and he felt for her. Usually, he was drawn to people who oozed confidence, but his own issues were making him more sympathetic.
“Hey, Louisa. Are you okay?” he asked, walking toward her, waiting for her to look up at him. That moment when she’d made eye contact on their walk had been as powerful as anything he’d ever experienced, and because he realized she wouldn’t do that for everybody, it felt special.
When she did, he saw a whole heap of worry and stress in the lines of her face. “Wait, no. Hey,” he said, pulling her into his arms without thinking. “Come here.” Her body leaned into his and her shoulder slid under his arm. She fit against him perfectly—though right now was the least appropriate time to think about that. Except, damn, he loved the feel of her body pressed up against his.
“I’m not upset,” she practically snarled, but she wrapped her arms around his waist all the same. “I’m mad. And a lot confused.”
Okay. They stood there for a moment in silence until he stepped back and took her hand. “Let’s go to my office, and we can talk.”
He buzzed them through the security door, not entirely sure why she’d come to him, but happy that she had nonetheless. Friday night had been a new experience, just hanging out and talking, and on Saturday, when he’d been out in a bar over on Coronado with a whole bunch of SEAL brothers, shooting shit, he’d found himself wondering what Lou was doing.
He offered her a seat and perched himself on the desk in front of her. Louisa sat for all of two seconds, then huffed and stood and started pacing back and forth in his office. She went to his bookshelf where he’d thrown all of his binders and books haphazardly, just happy to have them out of boxes, and started to organize them as she spoke.
“I have a problem, and I didn’t know who to ask for help. I think something is going on at the lab,” she said as she pulled the binders off one shelf and put them back onto another, grouping them by height and color. He’d have thought it was cute if what she’d just said hadn’t been so damn serious. “I don’t know what to do or whether I should go to the police.”
“Knock, knock,” Cabe said, poking his head around the door.
“Hey, Cabe. This is Louisa, the presenter from the fundraiser last Friday. Louisa, this is Cabe. He’s the one I told you about on Friday.” Six took note of the way Cabe’s eyebrow raised at him, but Cabe was polite nonetheless.
“Hey, Louisa, your presentation was awesome. Nice to finally meet you,” Cabe said.
Louisa looked up briefly, but quickly returned to what she was doing, which appeared to be reorganizing the books that were left on the shelves into alphabetical order. Cabe glanced over in his direction, a what-the-hell-is-she-doing? look on his face. Six smiled and shook his head slightly.
“Louisa was just telling me that she was having some problems. You want to continue, Lou?”
She finished the shelves and made her way over to the window and started to untangle the cor
ds for the blinds, which were full of knots. “My medical research focuses specifically on finding a drug to combat the involuntary movements of Huntington’s disease,” she said, threading a cord back on itself. “It used to be called Huntington’s chorea because chorea is the Greek word for dancing, but that was a really limiting title because there is way more to the disease than those abnormal jerky movements. Some trials work, some trials don’t. We just developed a treatment that we were really confident was going to work, but it ended up paralyzing the rats we tested it on. What was doubly frightening was the way it mutated. We hadn’t gotten around to doing the full postmortem on both the experiment and the rats, so we held on to the sample we’d created. When I saw you out on the trail last week, I was waiting for an answer from my lab partner because I couldn’t find one of the samples. Then on Friday, I went straight to the lab to check the files to confirm what the chemical makeup of the missing sample was, because any way you looked at it, that sample was dangerous and could quite possibly be used to do harm. My handwritten notes and my electronic files are all gone.”
The hairs on the back of Six’s neck stood on end. He usually had a pretty good radar for detecting bullshit stories, and his gut was telling him that Louisa was telling the truth.
“So, report it to the police,” Cabe said. “Feels like a civilian thing rather than the kind of thing we do.”
“Technically you’re right. It would become an FBI issue. But … gah. See, I can’t even explain it to you. It’s a feeling. My lab partner and my boss, who happens to be my lab partner’s grandfather, are just acting … strange … cagey.”
“So your fear is what?” Cabe asked.
“What we’d created had all the makings of a chemical weapon,” Louisa said, finally looking up at them as her hands kept busy.
“Is that possible?’ Six asked.
Louisa dropped the cord, and he noticed there were no knots left in it. “Do you know the history of chemotherapy?”
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