“Ma’am—” the senior guard complained.
“Enough, Carter,” she said simply as Clint took a step forward.
She stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Take off the booties and gloves and put them in the biohazard container outside. Then step into the pan of disinfectant so you don’t track anything in on the bottom of your feet and clean your hands, all the way up past the elbow, with the solution on the table.”
He’d just left decon, but he followed orders without comment. Inside, a cool breeze chilled the sweat on Clint’s forehead. He rolled his eyes down until he could see something besides the ceiling and sighed appreciatively. The tents were more like big balloons than traditional camping equipment. They were mushroom shaped, sealed up tight, and each had its own air-filtration system. They reminded Clint of an old movie about a boy with no immune system who couldn’t ever leave his hermetic environment for fear of infection.
Dr. Attois pulled a chair out from a folding table and motioned him toward it. He stood, surveying the neat cot and blanket, table and laptop computer. “Nice place. If you don’t mind living like the boy in the plastic bubble.”
“Beats dying.” She dug through a footlocker and came up with a hand towel and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “Now are you going to sit down or do I have to do this standing on my tiptoes?”
She held the bottle of peroxide up. He reached for it. “I can do it myself.”
She pulled the disinfectant out of his reach and nodded to the chair again. “I’m sure you can. But I’m the doctor, remember. Now sit.”
Reluctantly, he sat. Arguing with her wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
She clucked over him as she cleaned around his mouth. “Now what’s so important that you’d risk bodily harm just to talk to me?”
For a moment he couldn’t remember. She leaned over him, and all he could see was the milky column of her throat. She smelled like Ivory soap and her fingers were soft and gentle as they worked. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him so personally. Since a woman had touched him at all.
He couldn’t help but notice every detail about her as she worked over him. The way the light caught her eyes when she smiled. The way she touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip when she was concentrating. His heartbeat thrummed heavily in his veins, as if his blood had turned to mercury.
The unexpected reaction to her chafed him. This after only a few hours in her company? By the time the quarantine was lifted—if it was lifted—he’d be lucky if he was capable of speech.
He cleared his throat. Telephone.
“I need to use your satellite phone.”
She pulled back from him. The scent of Ivory wafted away, just out of reach. He caught himself just before he leaned forward to capture it again. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Tilt your head back.”
When he didn’t comply, she eased his forehead backward with the heel of her hand and dabbed at his nostrils with a gauze pad. He grabbed her wrist. Was it his imagination, or did her pulse leap under his fingers?
Their gazes met. Her pupils widened. No, it hadn’t been imagination.
He let her go, easing her back slightly in the same motion. “Look, I need to call my office. Let them know where I am.”
She yanked her gaze away and turned her back to him to put her supplies away. A warning buzz replaced the drumbeat in Clint’s veins.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t let you use the phone. There’s a media blackout. It’s against—”
“I’m not going to call the media. I’m going to call the Rangers. The search for your damn monkey is going to be huge. There are dozens of little towns surrounding the national forest. The evacuation alone is going to eat up nearly every law-enforcement resource in the state. I have to make sure there’re enough cops ready to back us—”
She wheeled. They stood so close that the top of her head was practically under his chin. Her mouth was just inches below his. It opened to speak, paused. He felt the warm rush of her breath. Smelled her mint toothpaste.
“There isn’t going to be an evacuation,” she said. Worry lines fanned out from the corners of her chicory-coffee eyes and her mouth.
“What do mean, no evacuation?”
With one last, suffering look, she ducked away. Her hands shook as she screwed the cap on the peroxide bottle and shoved the bloody gauze into a plastic bag.
“They—” She cut herself off, stumbling over her words. “It’s safer if everyone just stays in their homes,” she claimed, sounding as though she was reading a prepared statement. Or propaganda. She kept her eyes carefully averted and her hands busy, closing the first aid kit and stowing it in her trunk.
He forced his clenched fists to relax. His right hand trembled, and he jammed the fingers into his pocket. Hiding the tremor in his voice wasn’t so easy. It took every one of his years of self-discipline to accomplish the task.
“There’s no reason to cause a panic,” she said. “When we find the animal—”
“If you find the animal.”
“We’ll find it.”
“Before or after it wanders into a schoolyard and kills the whole first-grade class, or leaves a trail of virus down Main Street as it picks through the garbage cans looking for something to eat?”
She bit down on her lower lip. He paced the tent, tilting his head back when he felt a slow trickle of blood again in his nostril. “You don’t agree with this, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. The decision has been made.”
“By whom?”
“The head of the CDC, the Secretary of Health and Human Services, the President.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? All I know is the call came down from someone with a lot more clout than me.”
“Your chimp is mobile. There’s no guarantee he’s going to stay in the forest. He could be anywhere by now.”
“Which is exactly why an evacuation isn’t a good idea. If one of them is already infected, and carries the virus out of the area…” She didn’t have to describe the epidemic that could sweep across the U.S. as easily as it had devastated Malaysia. “People are being warned that there is a dangerous animal in the area. They’re being asked to call in if they see him. That’s all we can do for now.”
“Dangerous animal?” He got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What are you telling them?”
She pulled her lips between her teeth and looked away again. Oh no, she didn’t agree with this policy. “They’re being told the macaque is rabid.”
“Rabid? Who made that decision, some yahoo in Washington?” He stopped his pacing right beside her and loomed over her. “Lady, this is huntin’ country. You tell people there’s a rabid monkey running loose, every lovin’ one of them is going to grab their .22s and pile in their pickup trucks and go look for it. You want to keep them in their houses, you’ve got to warn them about the virus.”
“They’re afraid of starting a panic.”
“You think they’re not going to panic when they see a few hundred cops and military and whoever else descend on this area to search for your rabid monkey? You think they’re not going to get suspicious?”
“We’re being as discreet as possible.”
Disbelief made Clint’s shoulders droop. “Don’t tell me. There’s not going to be a search, either.”
She jerked her head to the side in one sharp motion. “Not a massive one like you describe. We’ve got a couple dozen CDC people and a special biohazard squad from Fort Hood coming in to set traps in the forest. If we’re lucky, we won’t have to find the macaque. He’ll find us.”
“That’s a mighty big ‘if.’” He couldn’t hold back the scowl that crawled across his forehead. “Christ, I’ve got to get out of here.” He had to warn people. He headed for the exit, but she stopped him.
“You’ll never make it. Security—”
He spun on his heel and loomed over her. “Screw security. Your agency is playing games with thousa
nds of lives because you don’t want to admit that you lost a research monkey that could start an epidemic. It’s politics, not precaution, and you know it. You’re more worried about losing your federal funding than keeping the people here alive.”
She flinched as if he’d slapped her. “I—I told you. It’s not my decision. I’m a scientist. I don’t make policy.”
He wanted to grab her. Shake her. Instead he took a deliberate step back. Two deep breaths. Cool-hand Clint, always in control. “But you don’t agree with the policy, do you?”
A heartbeat passed. He saw panic scroll through her eyes, then resignation.
He wouldn’t make her say it out loud. Didn’t need to hear it when he saw the truth swirl in her coffee eyes.
“Then help me do something about it. Who are you working with on a state level?” Texans were more likely to care about Texans than any federal agencies. “The Department of Public Health? The Federal Emergency Management Agency? Who?”
“My director said he’d been in contact with the governor.”
The first ribbon of relief curled through Clint. “If the governor’s in on it, then you can bet he’s called in the Rangers.”
He waited for that to sink in.
“Will they be told the truth, at least?”
“As far as I know.”
“Then I need to call my office,” he said, forcing a soft urgency to his voice. “Let them know they’ve got a man inside.”
“I was given a direct order…”
“Damn it, do you want to stop this disaster from happening, or not?”
Her eyes glistened.
He held out his hand. “Then give me your phone.”
No response. But he could see her thinking about it.
“Or you could suddenly feel the need to get some fresh air. I could stay here, with my head tipped back until the bleeding stops. You wouldn’t be responsible if I were to find your communications gear and use it without your permission.”
Temper flared in her dark irises. “You think that little of me? That I have to hide behind deniability?”
He waited, his heart crashing in his chest, trying not to admire her forthrightness. Or the way her chest heaved beneath her sweater. “Does that mean you’re going to help me or not?”
She went to the table and dug through a canvas backpack, finally pulling out what looked like a clunky cell phone. She held it out, but didn’t quite put it in his hand. “If I’m going to disobey an order, I do it straight up. No excuses. No deniability. You have five minutes. Make your call.”
With that, she gave him the phone, slid on a face mask and a pair of latex gloves, slipped a set of booties over her shoes and walked out of the tent. As he watched her go, Clint couldn’t help but think that the spirit inside that curvy little body was as enchanting as the rest of her.
And that he was in deep, deep trouble on a lot of levels.
Chapter 6
“Hayes, where the hell are you?” Texas Ranger Company G Captain “Bull” Matheson answered his cell phone on the fourth ring.
Even with a hundred miles between them, Bull’s tone made Clint wince. He was glad they weren’t face to face. When he was pissed off, Captain Matheson’s ice-blue stare had a way of making a man feel about as small as a midget’s boot heel, and he definitely sounded pissed off at the moment.
“I’ve been trying to call you all day. You were supposed to have been back at work yesterday.”
“It’s…kind of a long story, Cap.”
There was commotion in the background. Shouts. Hurried footsteps. Slamming doors and ringing phones. If Bull was in the office, it sounded like the place was in chaos. “Well, wherever you are, get your ass back here now and bring your outdoor gear. Muster at Love Field in three hours. We’re backing up E Company in East Texas. We got a bad situation down there.”
“That’s an understatement,” Clint said quietly.
Bull paused to give an order to someone on his end of the line. “How the hell do you know? I just found out myself ten minutes ago.”
“I’m here already.”
Another pause, this one longer. Silent. “Where, exactly,” the captain said, enunciating carefully, “are you?”
“Ground zero. I saw the plane go down. Came out to see what I could do. Now I’m stuck in quarantine.”
“Damn it, Hayes…”
“I know, Cap.” Clint squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “I know.”
An awkward silence followed, broken only by mutual deep breaths. Clint figured the captain had no more idea what to say than he did. They both knew the possibilities. The Malaysian death toll from ARFIS had been big news for months.
“What’s the situation there?” Bull finally asked, his voice rougher than usual.
Clint opened his eyes, focused on the job at hand. “The camp is secure, for now. CDC brought in their own people, but I’m not sure these guys are going to be able to handle it if things get ugly.”
“All right.” Clint heard the captain’s measured footfalls, knew he was pacing. He always did when he was thinking. And when he was worried. “You’re my eyes and ears in there. I want to know what’s happening. You have to keep things under control and you’re going to have to do it on your own. I’m not going to be able to send you any help.”
“I know. What’s going on outside?”
“The park has been cleared of hikers and campers, roads in and out are closed. National Guard is on alert and the governor has called out all seven Ranger companies—every damn Ranger in the state—to move into the area just in case.” He didn’t have to say just in case what.
“Cap, you’ve got to convince the governor to order an evacuation.”
Bull swore. “Tried already. Don’t know what the hell the politicos are thinking, but the stand-down orders are coming from way up the chain. Somewhere in Washington, I think.”
“Washington doesn’t run the state of Texas. The governor can override them.”
“And end his political career doing it. He’s not going to take that chance without damn good reason.”
“The lives of his constituents aren’t reason enough?”
“That’s not what I meant, Hayes, and you know it. This thing is a jurisdictional nightmare. The CDC, FEMA, the Department of Public Health, the National Transportation Safety Board—they’re all arguing over who’s in charge. Even Homeland Security and the Department of Defense are involved. The governor can’t just go reversing their orders. If he were to be wrong, and an evacuee carried the virus to another county or state, this thing could be out of control in no time.”
Clint shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s already out of control, Bull. Way out of control.”
“Do what you can, Clint. You’ve got to keep a lid on things there.”
“I know.”
“I’ll want regular status reports from you.”
“I know that, too.”
The captain grunted an acknowledgement. Or maybe it was an order to someone on his end. Clint figured he’d accomplished his mission and started saying his goodbyes. He was ready to hang up, but the captain didn’t seem ready to break the connection.
“When this is over,” Bull said after a long, awkward pause, “I’m going to want to hear that long story about what you’re doing in East Texas responding to plane crashes when you were supposed to be at work in Dallas.”
“I hope I live to tell it, Bull.” Clint’s jaw hardened. “I hope I live to tell it.”
The captain blew out a breath. “Hayes, there’s a doctor there with you.”
“Attois.” The name rolled off his tongue a little too easily to suit him.
“According to the briefing I got from the governor, she knows everything there is to know about this bug.”
A wan smile curled across Clint’s lips. “Except how to kill it. Guess she forgot that little detail when she decided to bring it to the United States.”
“Don’t blame this mess on her.
She didn’t fly that plane into the ground. I want you to stick with her, Clint. If this thing heats up, she’s the one they’re going to turn to to stop it. I want to know what she knows. You get intel from her, you pass it on to me.” He grunted. “I’ll make sure the governor gets it, and we’ll see about that evacuation.”
Clint started to object to the order to stick to Macy Attois. But even as he opened his mouth, his body began to hum. Before he could stop it, the images of her dark eyes, fringed with heavy lashes, the curve of her jeans—and how she would look without them—stole into his mind.
He sighed. “Is that an order, Cap?”
“You got some problem with the doctor?”
“Problem? No, no problem,” Clint said dryly, thinking about the view he’d had of her backside as she’d stepped out of the tent. He hadn’t meant to notice the gentle roll of her hips when she walked.
Hadn’t meant to, but had. In a big way. Even with everything else on his mind. It didn’t make sense.
“Damn it, Clint. Don’t screw around with her.”
He slammed the door in his mind to the images of doing just that. “Don’t worry, Captain.”
He disconnected the call. Him and Dr. Attois?
Wasn’t going to happen. No way, no how.
He kept telling himself that, even as she walked back into the tent, fine eyebrows lifted in silent question, and he found himself incapable of tearing his gaze away from the soft spread of her chest against the folded air mattress and blankets she held in her arms.
“I pitched the ball,” he answered her unspoken question. “We’ll see if anybody catches it. Why the hell is that monkey still alive, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Maybe the cells he was injected with were mishandled, and he was never infected at all. Maybe the virus has mutated somehow.” Her brows furrowed, then lifted. “I do have some good news, though. The blood tests on the work crew were all negative.”
He blew out a breath. “Maybe there is a God.”
And maybe not, since Dr. Attois bent over to set her bedding down right in front of him. He made a retreat toward the door before he found himself staring at her backside the way he’d ogled her front.
Her Last Defense Page 5