Red Alert, page 8
The screen showed three simple, terrifying lines that put things on a whole new level.
Received from: Unknown
Message: Kill the deal.
Next time it’ll be your other girlfriend.
Chapter Seven
Dr. Oberman cleared Raine to have visitors a short time later. After trying several times to contact the detectives, Erik headed to her room.
She wasn’t alone.
Max sat in the visitor’s chair. As Erik watched, the big man touched Raine’s hand.
She stirred and blinked, then closed her eyes again and sighed. “Hey, boss. I’m glad you came. I have something to say to you.”
A dark look crossed Max’s face. “I’m not—”
Erik stepped into the room. “I’m here, Raine.”
She smiled faintly, eyes still closed. “Thinking you’re going to die does interesting things to your priorities. I wanted you to know that I’m sorry I’ve been weird with you lately. I got it in my head that I was in love with you, that we could go from pretending to be a family to actually being one.” She tried to laugh, but it trailed off into a sigh. “I just wanted you to know that it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me—I’ll be fine by myself. I always am.”
Erik stood frozen in the hospital room doorway, feeling like the biggest jerk to ever walk the face of the earth as a single tear traced its way down Raine’s sallow cheek.
He hadn’t handled her crush well at all. They were adults. They should have sat down and talked it out like adults. Instead he’d let it go on too long and he’d hurt someone he trusted. Someone he relied on.
Someone he…well, loved was too strong a word for him, but someone who had become important to him over the years.
Someone he hadn’t meant to hurt.
Raine’s breathing evened into that of sleep. Max stood up from the bedside chair, his expression dark. “I should go.”
Erik shifted on his feet, or rather on his cane, which he had a sudden mad urge to hurl through the window. He didn’t want to talk about what had just happened—not with Meg’s employee, not with anyone.
Knowing it made him look like a bastard and not entirely sure he didn’t deserve the label, he focused on the case, saying, “Now that Meg’s not in the room, you have any idea how Raine got the clotting factor in her?”
Max regarded him levelly. “As I’m sure Meg already told you, we gave her the prescribed treatment, nothing more.” He glanced back at the bed, where Raine’s face had gained a faint blush, as though her subconscious mind already regretted the truths she’d confessed. The he turned back to Erik and his expression hardened. “And as I’m sure you already know, Raine deserves better. She and Meg both do.”
He stalked toward the door, bumping Erik hard enough to knock him back a step. Then he was gone, leaving Erik alone with a sleeping Raine.
Kill the deal. The words spooled through his mind. Next time it’ll be your other girlfriend.
Raine. Meg. Neither was his girlfriend, but both had been endangered because of him. Because of “the deal,” which could only refer to the NPT technology.
But he couldn’t kill the deal. He needed the technology, needed the facet that Meg was so determined to block from being developed. It might be his last chance to ever walk normally again, to ever be a whole man again. His life, his career had been focused on nothing else for the past five years. This was it, he could feel it. He was sure of it.
But what if the cost was too great?
“I don’t know.” He said the words out loud, feeling them echo deep within his soul. What was wholeness worth to him?
He crossed the room and sank into the chair beside Raine. He didn’t take her hand because he didn’t deserve to touch her. Hell, he didn’t deserve to sit beside her. She was a beautiful, wonderful, passionate woman, and she had wanted him.
How had he returned the favor? He’d put her in the path of a killer. And now he couldn’t bring himself to back down, even if it meant endangering the life of another woman, one whose motives were far less pure but who didn’t deserve the danger any more than Raine did.
He cursed and dropped head to his hands, filled with the knowledge that he was quite possibly the most selfish man in the universe.
Detective Peters’s voice spoke from the doorway. “Falco? You called?” The two detectives stood outside in the hallway.
Erik levered himself to his feet and nodded to the door. “Let’s find somewhere we can talk. I’ve got our answer.”
Peters glanced from the bed to Erik and back. “To which question?”
“I’m the target. Or rather, my acquisition of Meg’s technology is the target.”
He handed his PDA to Detective Sturgeon, who frowned as he read the text message. “Let’s find Dr. Corning,” the detective said after a moment’s silence. “She’ll need to be in on this conversation.”
“I’d rather—” Erik caught himself, knowing it wasn’t about what he’d rather do. Not anymore. “You’re right. I’ll find her and bring her in on the meeting.”
And he’d make a few phone calls while he was at it, see if he could move up the timetable to day five rather than seven. Once the deal was done, there would be no more reason for his enemy—whoever the hell it was—to threaten the women. Meg would hate him for it, but he told himself the end justified the means.
It was for her own good.
ERIK WAS UP TO SOMETHING. Meg could feel it in the tense air of the conference room across the hall from her lab, where they were meeting with the detectives in what had become a council of war.
“I think we’re looking at this the wrong way,” she said into a small pause in the flow of masculine conversation. When the men looked at her, she placed her hands flat on the cool surface of the table, trying to project calm competence in the face of a situation she wasn’t fully equipped to handle.
Skydiving and snowboarding uncharted runs were one thing. Being targeted by someone who wanted to kill her was another.
“How do you suggest we look at it?” Erik asked, not meeting her eyes.
“You’re focusing on your personal enemies, people who wouldn’t want you to have a major financial success from developing the NPT technology.” She swallowed, surprising herself with the realization that she didn’t hate the idea of the sale as much as she had a few days earlier.
The more she’d gotten to know Erik, the more she’d started to, if not like him, at least respect his integrity.
Baloney. You’re making excuses because you’re attracted to him.
She felt her face heat as she said, “I think we need to figure out who might want the technology completely blocked. That would explain why the accidents with the cement and the elevator looked like they were aimed at me.”
Detective Peters nodded. “True, but you gave us a list after the first incident. We haven’t had a connection pop yet.”
“And besides,” Erik said, voice rough, “Raine’s attack was clearly aimed at me.”
“Yes and no,” Meg said, not even sure why she was arguing. Her gut knotted with the theories and suspicions they’d been discussing for a solid half hour, and her pounding headache reminded her that it was nearly midnight, that she hadn’t slept well the night before, alone in her place, only partially soothed by the regular police patrols. “Raine’s collapse threw suspicion on my lab. If it hadn’t been for the text message, you’d probably still think we messed up and gave her the clotting meds.” When he didn’t deny the fact, she sighed on a faint wash of disappointment.
It wasn’t until that moment that she realized she’d been fishing for something more from him. That was just stupid. And irrational. And pointless.
She dug her nails into her palms, the pain reminding her to stay on point when her libido wanted to wander into asinine, dangerous territory. Just because she’d lost weight and started climbing again didn’t make her the type to leap without a parachute.
Especially when she was pretty sure there wouldn’t be anyone waiting to catch her.
“So what are you suggesting?” Erik said, still not making eye contact, which made her wonder just what he was hiding this time. He continued, “Somehow I doubt you’re planning on pulling NPT from the playing field. It’s out there. You can’t take it back unless you want to claim that it’s having problems in testing.” He shot her a look. “Is it having problems?”
“Of course not,” she snapped. “NPT works. It’s a breakthrough. A potential blockbuster that’ll redefine the industry. That’s why they—whoever they are—want it stopped.” She paused and took a breath. “I’m proposing that we let the licensing deal go through. I have one last company interested in the NPT with my restrictions. I’m saying we do that deal and see what happens.”
She expected an explosion from Erik. Instead his voice went deadly flat. “Not an option.”
“It’ll separate out the threads,” she argued, focusing her plea on the detectives. “If the threat is directed at FalcoTechno, then nothing happens, or the danger focuses on Erik and his next deal. If the threat is aimed at me, at getting NPT off the market…” She trailed off, unwilling to voice the possibilities.
“Then you’re bait.” Erik surged to his feet and began to pace, barely leaning on his cane. “He’ll be coming straight after you.”
“Which is no different from the situation right now,” she countered, trying to sound calm when her stomach and head were in competition with each other in the discomfort Olympics.
He glared. “You’re using this situation to your advantage, to push through a license the administration normally wouldn’t agree to, just so you don’t have to sell to me.”
“Yes, I am.” She stood and faced him, aware of Sturgeon taking notes, of Peters watching them with hooded, considering eyes. “And you’d do the same thing if you were in my position. You’re just mad because you didn’t get it done first.”
They faced off opposite each other for a long, tense moment before he sighed and looked away. “Don’t do something you’ll regret later, Meg.”
Meg. Once again, his use of her first name did something strange to her insides, something that shouldn’t be associated with a man such as him, one who blocked her at every turn, who matched her on a mental level but lagged behind physically.
Or so she kept telling herself.
“Enough.” Sturgeon climbed to his feet. “We’re not getting anywhere here, and we’re not using you as bait for anything until we have a better idea of what’s going on.”
“He’s right,” Peters said, gathering his electronic notepad along with Erik’s PDA. “It’s late and it’s been a long few days. Let’s get some rest and come back at this tomorrow.” He glanced from Erik to Meg and back again. “You two watch your backs.”
“Of course.” Erik turned so he was shoulder-to-shoulder with her, so they were suddenly united rather than opposed. “I’ll stay with her. Wouldn’t mind if you had a car cruise past her place every half hour or so, too.”
Sturgeon nodded. “You got it.”
While the men arranged to meet again midmorning, Meg fumed. When the detectives were gone, she turned on Erik. “‘I’ll stay with her?’ What kind of macho bull is that? Who asked you to stay?”
She was aware of her volume climbing, aware that she shouldn’t be arguing when she didn’t want to head home to her empty place alone. Not again. But stress and fear and a shivery ball of energy in her gut combined to make her prickly and reactive. Over-reactive maybe, but damn it, didn’t she have the right to a tantrum at this point?
“Do you honestly want to stay by yourself?” He arched a dark eyebrow and she damned him for saying what she’d just thought.
“I assumed you’d want to stay with Raine,” she said, aiming where it would hurt both of them. When his eyes darkened, she retreated a step. “I mean… I thought… Oh, hell. I don’t know.”
Darkness flickered briefly in his eyes. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He advanced a step, until they were closer than they’d been when they were fighting, closer than they should be now.
Meg was acutely aware of the silence of the building around them. It was well past quitting time, and the quiet of desertion was punctuated by the occasional click and hum of expensive machinery. The janitors had come and gone. The floor was locked and key-coded.
They were completely, utterly alone.
She was conscious of the quick rise and fall of Erik’s broad chest as their spat of moments ago morphed into something hotter and more dangerous.
“This is stupid,” she said, as much to herself as to him. “I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. I shouldn’t be attracted to you.”
“Same goes,” he said, a flash of something like amusement, something like anger, crossing his face. “Then again, that seems to be my usual M.O. What’s your excuse?”
But even though his words came out faintly mocking, he closed the distance between them, until she could feel the warmth of him against the suddenly sensitized skin of her cheeks and lips. “Stupidity, maybe. The situation. The circumstances. Hell, even the danger, I don’t know.”
But she did. That last choice resonated a little too well, but the moment was lost when he closed the gap between them. Their lips touched. Their breaths mingled.
And their last shreds of rationality were lost.
Chapter Eight
Meg was free-falling without a parachute. The rushing in her ears was the sound of the wind, the pounding of her heart was the feel of danger. Adrenaline. Exhilaration.
Except she had solid ground beneath her feet. It wasn’t the wind at all. It was Erik.
His lips cruised against hers, the rasp of late-night stubble on his cheeks and chin adding a rough edge to the softness, a thrill to the demand. Then she was the one demanding, parting her lips beneath his and diving headfirst into the heat.
The temptation.
She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him close even as a faint buzz in the back of her brain warned that this wasn’t one of the smartest moves she’d ever made.
But of the dumb decisions she’d ever made, this was the one that felt the best.
She sank into the kiss, into the man, sliding her fingers from his shirt to his shoulders, then his arms. She felt strong, corded muscles beneath her fingers, and was faintly surprised at their leashed power. She raked her fingernails across his biceps and felt him shudder.
Then he gripped her hips in his big hands, so his thumbs rested low on her pelvis, and it was her turn to shudder. Neurons she’d all but forgotten about flared to life, reminding her of the woman she’d been before her job responsibilities and her father’s pressure to “tone it down” had turned her into someone else.
Someone she was bound and determined to outgrow, damn it. Starting now, with this surprising man who was nothing like what she’d thought she wanted, but had somehow become exactly what she needed.
She angled her head to accept more of his mouth, demand more of it, and he complied, delving deep with his tongue and gripping her hips so hard she thought he would leave marks. She moaned her pleasure, and when he stiffened and hesitated, she whispered, “More. Please, more.”
He froze and ended the kiss. Dropped his arms from around her. Backed up a step.
And looked down at her, breathing hard.
Suddenly ashamed for no reasons she could pinpoint besides the quick chill of his eyes and the rapid beat of blood beneath her skin, she crossed her arms over her chest to form a pitiful barrier, acutely aware of the rasp of material across her tender nipples. She swallowed hard and fought for humor when she couldn’t read his expression. “I don’t suppose you’d care to drop the purchase offer, huh?”
His eyes blanked in an instant. “Is that what you want?”
She’d meant it as a joke, but as passion drained, all of the complications rushed in, reminding her that this wasn’t about the man-woman stuff, had never been about that.
It was about NPT. About someone wanting it, or not wanting him to have it. If he backed out, maybe things would settle down. Maybe the danger would pass.
Maybe nobody else would get hurt.
So she nodded. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.” A small internal voice reminded her that a few moments earlier, her wants had had very little to do with molecular biology and everything to do with chemistry. Man-woman chemistry. Erik and Meg chemistry.
His voice slapped like an accusation when he said, “Is that why you kissed me?”
She fell back, confused. Anger flared on the heels of that confusion. “You kissed me first. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m an idiot.” He jammed one hand in his pocket and gripped his cane with the other as he paced away, then back, his uneven stride growing jerkier by the moment. “I—”
He cut off the word with a click of teeth and blanked his expression to the point that he barely looked human anymore. He could’ve been a statue. A wax figure. “Never mind. It’s not your problem. You’re just doing what you think you need to do to save your technology from unethical bastards like me. It’s not like you’re planning to kill someone.”
Meg got the distinct impression he wasn’t talking directly to her anymore. It seemed more like he was talking to himself, or maybe to a memory. Part of her wanted to soothe him, to smooth the unhappy wrinkle between his eyes. The rest of her wanted to walk away and forget the taste of him, forget the corpse-cold look in his eye as he stared at her now.
Instead she retreated to the place she’d found after her parents’ divorce, and again when her father told her she couldn’t be herself and be taken seriously as an academic. In that place—that hard, practical place where data mattered and emotion didn’t—she found the strength to say, “You’re right. That’s your problem, not mine. You wanted to kiss me, I wanted to kiss you. We kissed. I’m not going to make a federal case out of it, and I’m not sure why you are. But I can say one thing for sure—your response just now has cured me of wanting an encore.”
