Tangled Threat ; Suspicious

by Heather Graham

  When their food came—she’d ordered a very boring meal: hamburger, fries and an iced tea—Lars lowered his voice and said, “Jesse says I need to know why you’re here.”

  She’d thought she was tense already, but now her muscles constricted to an even greater degree, and she shot Jesse a furious glance.

  “Lorena, it’s important I know.”

  “Then I’m surprised Jesse didn’t tell you,” she said.

  “I need to hear it from you.”

  She clenched her teeth, set her hamburger down, shot Jesse one last filthy stare, and explained what she knew and feared to Lars. He listened without mocking or doubting her, though he glanced at Jesse several times, as if Jesse might have put him in the middle of a science fiction tale, but when she finished, he sighed and asked, “Your father’s death was ruled an accident?”

  “Yes. But I know it wasn’t.”

  “That’s going to be very difficult to prove.”

  “Maybe not now, when other people are dying,” she said.

  That caused a glance between Lars and Jesse.

  “What was in the e-mail from the alligator farm?” Lars asked.

  She shrugged. “It was vague. They were interested, of course, in learning about any developments to increase quality and efficiency. They suggested that they could pay well.”

  “What was your father’s reply?” Lars asked.

  “That he had nothing ready as of yet. And he explained that research was difficult, that all genetic scientists had to take the greatest care when playing with the makeup of any life form.”

  “Did other alligator farms contact your father?” Lars asked.

  She shrugged. “Yes.”

  “So why are you concentrating on this one?”

  “Every other e-mail was signed by a specific person. At Harry’s, the same e-mail account can be used by almost anyone who works there.”

  “We can trace the computer,” Lars said.

  “If so, what will that prove?” Lorena asked.

  “Whether it was in the office, in the lab or somewhere else,” Lars said.

  “Preston would have to be involved, wouldn’t he?” Jesse asked.

  “There are no ‘have-tos,’ Jesse. We both know that,” Lars said. He looked at Lorena. “You need to get out of that place.”

  She tensed again, staring at Jesse. “I can’t see how I can be in any personal danger. I had nothing to do with my father’s work.”

  “Anyone can be in danger,” Lars said softly.

  Lars sat back, wiped his mouth and stared at Lorena. “I’ll have to talk to the D.A.’s office about a search warrant. In the meantime, you shouldn’t go back.”

  Lorena leaned forward, speaking heatedly. “My father is dead. A local couple have been killed. You don’t know how many enhanced alligators you might have running around the Everglades. You need me, and you need my help.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand here,” Lars said, and he glanced at Jesse, frowning. “This research has to be fairly new. Alligators take time to mature and grow. How could this one have gotten so big so fast?”

  Lorena shook her head. “The formula causes an increase in the growth rate. Take people. Better diets, rich in protein, make for taller, stronger teens. Body builders bulk up with steroids. You’d be amazed at what chemicals can do to the body. That’s why it’s so important not only that we find out who was doing what but to just how many specimens.”

  “We need a search warrant,” Lars said simply.

  “Do you think you can get one?” Lorena asked anxiously.

  He shrugged. “If I can argue well enough. And prove just cause. Well, I should get moving.” He lifted a hand to ask for the check. Jesse caught his arm.

  “I told you yesterday. This one is on the tribe.”

  “Thanks.” He rose. Lorena and Jesse did the same.

  When Lars had walked out, Lorena turned on Jesse. “You told me that I had two days.”

  “Lorena, what do you think you’re going to find in two days?” Jesse demanded.

  “More than anyone else?”

  “Is biochemistry another of your degrees?”

  She gritted her teeth, staring at him. “No. But I know what might have been stolen from my father.”

  “Lorena, face it, you’re not going to be able to do anything if you’re dead!”

  She turned away from him and headed toward the door, clearly indicating that lunch was over for her, as well.

  He followed. As soon as he came out, she got into the car. There was no possibility that she was going to walk back to work.

  He didn’t pull straight back onto the road but instead drove almost directly across the street. She gazed at him with hostility. “You have a few minutes left. I thought you might want to see the village.”

  She didn’t have a chance to refuse. He had already gotten out of the car.

  They entered the gift shop first. It offered Indian goods from around the country. There were a number of the exquisite colorful shirts, skirts and jackets for which both the Seminoles and Miccosukees had become famous, along with dream catchers, posters, T-shirts, postcards, drums, hand-carved “totem” recorders and jewelry. Some of the unique beadwork designs on the jewelry might well have attracted Lorena’s attention, but Jesse was already headed straight out the back. There was an entry fee, but Jesse just smiled at the girl, and he, with Lorena trailing behind him, walked on through. She offered the girl an awkward smile, as well.

  Out back, there were a number of chickees, along with more items for sale. Women were there working on intricate basketry, sewing the beautiful colored clothing and designing jewelry.

  Lorena, fascinated, would have paused, but Jesse was again moving on to one of the huge pits where alligators lived with a colony of turtles.

  Looking into the pit, Lorena noted that a number of the gators were large, very large. But not one of them was more than ten feet.

  “Jesse, what’s up?”

  A man with ink-dark hair and Native American features, wearing a T-shirt that advertised a popular rock band, walked up to them.

  Jesse nodded to him. “Mike. This is Lorena Fortier. She’s working at Harry’s.”

  The man studied her with a smile. “Welcome.”

  “I thought she might want to see the village.”

  Mike smiled and shrugged. “Well, there’s the museum, the pits, we do some wrestling, give a few history lessons.”

  “She’s on lunch break. I just thought she should come look around. And I wanted to make sure you’d seen the notice.”

  “About the hunt tonight? I’ll be there,” Mike said grimly. He shook his head. “Billy Ray...well, he wasn’t the kind of man that gave us a lot of pride, but hell, I wouldn’t have wanted my worst enemy to go that way.”

  “Right. Make sure everyone knows we’re hunting something big, really big. Close to twenty feet, maybe even more.”

  Mike whistled softly. “We do know what we’re doing, Jesse,” he said. “But it’s good to be warned.”

  “See you later, then. And extend my thanks to everyone showing up from the tribe.”

  Mike nodded. “See you then.”

  Jesse turned and headed toward the exit without a word to Lorena. She had been angry, but now he was the one who seemed irritated. They reached the car, where, despite his apparent anger, he opened her door.

  “You’re the one who betrayed me,” she reminded him.

  He shot her a scowling glance. “I’m trying to get you out of what might be a dangerous situation. But you know what? I don’t usually have a chip on my shoulder, but today, I do. Chemists, biochemists, biologists! They’re playing with life. Interesting, sure. Let’s see how we can improve what God made. But, the thing is, people play God, and things can happen. Billy Ray was no prize spec
imen of humanity. But you heard it in Mike’s voice. He was one of ours. We’re a small tribe. We were forced down to this land, and we learned how to live on it. Billy Ray had every right in the world to be fishing. Hell, if he wanted to drink himself silly, that was his choice, too. He shouldn’t have been attacked by an animal that was only there because someone decided to play God.”

  Lorena gasped. “My father wanted to help people,” she insisted angrily. “And when he was afraid he might be on to something dangerous, he was willing to destroy years of research!”

  “Too bad you couldn’t have explained that to Billy Ray while he was being eaten,” Jesse said.

  Lorena stared at him incredulously. “Evil people come in all colors and nationalities, you know!”

  The drive from the village to the alligator farm was short. Jesse pulled in just as Lorena finished her tirade, and she was out the door before the engine could die. She walked around to his window. “Thank you for your concern for my safety, but since you’ve turned things over to Metro-Dade now, I’m sure I’ll be just fine. You can feel secure in the fact that I’ll be safe without your assistance.”

  She spun around, her feet crunching on the gravel path, heedless as to whether he called her back or not.

  Lunch was over. It was time to get back to work.

  She did so, energetically, talking to the tourists, helping Michael, even going with the tours to the pits and watching while Jack wrestled one of the six-foot alligators.

  It didn’t matter what she did, as long as she did something. With Michael in his lab, she certainly wasn’t going to get anywhere there, so she put her heart into the business of people. Anything at all to keep busy.

  To keep from thinking.

  She shouldn’t have gotten so close so fast. Getting intimate with someone so unique, so unusual, so very much...everything she might have wanted in life...had been more than foolhardy. She had let herself become far too emotionally involved, and then...

  She’d felt that wretched knife in her back. His bitterness against her father had been unexpected and deeply painful.

  That afternoon, she actually put her nursing skills to the test. A little girl fell on one of the paths.

  Nothing like a registered nurse to apply disinfectant and a bandage.

  As she tended the child, Lorena suddenly wondered why Harry had decided that he needed a nurse on the premises. It had made sense at first. The alligator farm was in an isolated location. But she had seen the local services in action. Help had arrived almost instantly when Roger had been found in the pit. Helicopters provided a swift transport to the emergency room.

  Of course, nothing so drastic was necessary for little scrapes and bruises, but still...

  Still, the question gave her pause. She forced herself to concentrate on it. It was good—no, it was necessary—to think about something—anything—other than Jesse Crane and the startling color of his eyes, the sleek bronze warmth of his flesh, the sound of his voice, the way he touched her, the structure of his face and the way she just wanted to be with him...

  No! She had to think of something else.

  He would be back at the end of the day, there to organize the hunt. As it veered toward five o’clock and closing, she determined to spend some quality time with Dr. Michael Preston.

  * * *

  BY THE TIME Lorena stalked off, Jesse had already cooled down and realized that he’d been a fool, taking his frustration over what had happened out on her.

  What was it about the woman? She made him forget everything the moment he was with her, even though she wasn’t his type at all.

  And why not?

  Because she was blond?

  Elegant, feminine...a powder puff, or so he had assumed at first.

  But she wasn’t. She was determined. Reckless, maybe, but determined and fierce, and she had told him that she was a crack shot. Not a powder puff at all.

  But also not the kind to spend a lifetime in the wilds. Then he reminded himself ruefully that his “wilds” were just a forty-five-minute drive from an urban Mecca with clubs, malls, theaters and more.

  What was he doing, arguing with himself, convincing himself that his lifestyle was a good one? Because...?

  Because he hadn’t felt the way he felt about her in a very long time. In fact, he’d thought he’d buried those feelings along with Connie, that as long as he threw himself back into his passion for the land and the tribe, he could learn to live without all they had shared, the tenderness and sense of being one, loving, laughing, waking together, sleeping each night entwined. There was the chemistry that brought people together, and, if you were lucky, the chemistry, excitement and hunger that remained. And more. The longing to see someone’s eyes opening to the new day, the times when no words were necessary, the nights when life was good just because the world could be shared.

  He lowered his head, wincing, feeling as if the scars that had covered his wounds were ripping open. As if they were raw and bleeding, all because of the promise of something, someone, else. But that promise brought with it the one emotion he dreaded more than anything. Fear. No wonder he’d pushed her away.

  He clenched and unclenched his fists. This wasn’t the right time. In fact, it was idiotic. And, anyway, she was furious with him, probably regretting the very fact that they’d touched.

  He forced his mind onto the case.

  He felt that they were closing in, that Lars would be able to get the search warrant after what he had learned from Lorena. There were, however, other alligator farms in the area. It might be tough for him to convince the D.A.’s office, without concrete proof, not only that there really were “enhanced” alligators in the Everglades, but that Harry’s Alligator Farm and Museum was responsible, and that whoever had gone to the extremes of biochemical manipulation was also willing to kill for it.

  He hesitated, then decided to take another drive out to Dr. Thiessen’s place to see if the Metro-Dade cops had missed anything, though he doubted it. They were good.

  Then again, this was a world he knew far better than anyone else, a world that could not be taught in any lab or classroom.

  * * *

  IN HER ROOM, Lorena found herself amazed to be carefully considering her wardrobe for the evening.

  She hadn’t been asked on the hunt, which made sense. Only experienced alligator trappers were going, and that definitely did not include her.

  Nor, she suspected, did it include Michael Preston.

  Which was good, because she wanted to spend some time with Michael. She didn’t want to appear as if she had dressed to seduce, but she did want to look attractive.

  Not in an aggressive way. Just enough to be compelling, so she could conduct her own hunt this evening.

  She opted for casual slacks and a soft silk halter top. When she was dressed, she headed for his lab, listened, and heard movement. She tapped on the door.

  “Yes?”

  Lorena slipped in. “Hey. Are you going on that hunt this evening?” she asked him.

  He arched a brow, grimaced and shook his head. “I’m a scientist. The brains, not the brawn.”

  “Ah.”

  “I guess you’re into brawn.”

  “I am?”

  “Well...” He perched on the edge of his desk, still in his lab coat. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with our bronzed-and-buff policeman, Ms. Fortier.”

  She shrugged casually. “Not really. I wound up driving with him when that poor woman freaked out over her friend having been killed. And I probably shouldn’t have headed out to the casino to begin with, the night I left with him. Too tired. And then someone told him about the incident with the hatchlings, so he wanted to talk to me.”

  “Not me.”

  “Did you tell anyone here?” Lorena asked.

  He lifted his shoulders. “I don’t think so. Maybe t
he kid complained in the end, I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t have let the little brat off the hook.”

  “Maybe not,” she agreed. She walked closer, then sat on the other corner of his desk. She frowned. “Michael, did you ever believe any of those stories about kids buying baby alligators and then their parents flushing them down the toilet, so they wound up in the sewers of New York, that kind of thing?”

  He waved a hand in the air. “Science fiction,” he assured her. “Alligators, even in a sewer, wouldn’t last long in New York. They need the sun, the heat. You know that.”

  “Right,” she mused. “But...down here, I wonder how many alligators wind up free after they’ve been lifted from a place like this one by a kid like that brat. I mean it’s possible. We both know that.”

  He slipped from his position on the desk and approached her, a smile on his face. She was a bit unnerved when he came very close, leaning toward her, resting his hands on the desktop on either side of her. “Possible,” he said softly, his face just a whisper away. “But no kid is going to steal a hatchling from here, then let it loose in the New York sewers to grow into a monster.”

  “But there’s at least one monster alligator out in the canals right now,” she said. “That’s what they’re hunting tonight.”

  She saw a pulse ticking in his cheek. He didn’t move. “Just what are you suggesting, Ms. Fortier?” he asked very softly.

  “What else could it be?” she asked innocently. “I think that alligator escaped or was stolen from a lab,” she said, and shrugged.

  “From here?” he asked.

  “From somewhere,” she breathed. He was close. So close. And he might be the brains and not the brawn, but he still had quite an impressive build, and she just might have taken things too far.

  “If I could create a super-gator, I’d be rich,” he said, sounding surprisingly disgusted.

  But she could see the tension in his face, feel it in his muscles. Her recklessness could prove dangerous. This, however, had been the time to take chances. Dozens of men from around the area would be arriving shortly. If he came any closer...