Deadly Contact (15 page)

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. He turned around, the protest dying on his lips as he came face-to-face with the devil once again.

“You,” he managed, swallowing hard to push down the lump in his throat.

The man merely smiled in a predatory way, which only made George’s stomach flop ominously. “Me,” he said, his tone perfectly polite.

“But how did you...? I don’t understand.” George shuffled back a step, bumping into a woman, who frowned at him as she moved down the aisle.

“Watch where you’re going,” she muttered as she wheeled her cart away.

The man waved his hand, as if he couldn’t be bothered with silly details like how he’d hunted them down. George had known it was only a matter of time, but he hadn’t expected to be found so soon. He’d hoped for enough time to develop a plan, at least.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to renege on our agreement.” He said it pleasantly enough, but the man’s eyes were cold and dead. George had the sudden realization that if not for the witnesses in the store, this man would cheerfully kill him and not think twice.

“Ruth wanted to redecorate, to celebrate beating cancer,” he stammered, the lie tripping off his tongue before he realized what he was saying. “We’re just staying at the hotel until the renovations are done.”

The man shook his head. “Do you know how I can tell when you’re lying, George?” He took a step forward, and George’s heart leaped into his throat. “Your lips are moving. Now.” He reached out, brushing his hands lightly across George’s shoulders. “I suggest you stop lying, and tell me how you’re going to make this up to me.”

“I can still get you the bug,” George said, taking another step back. “I’ll get it for you, and we’ll be even.”

The man rolled his eyes. “How are you going to do that? Your lab is being watched. If you go back, you’ll get picked up.” He raised a brow over the rim of his glasses. “I assume you’re still interested in staying out of jail and with your lovely wife?”

Absolutely.
Even though Ruth wanted nothing to do with him right now, he still needed to stay by her side. Once this danger had passed, they could go back to being the way they were before and pretend as if this whole thing had never happened.

George cast about for something—
anything
—to say to buy him some time. The way the man was watching him made him viscerally uncomfortable. Right now, George felt a bit like prey, while the hunter in front of him merely waited for his opportunity to strike.

“I have a postdoc,” he offered, wiping his palms on his pants. “She could get the bug out of the freezer and bring it to you.”

A spark of interest flared in those dead eyes, so George went on, warming to his subject as he spoke. “She knows where everything is, and I trust her to bring the right stuff. I can tell her to meet you somewhere to give you the stuff. Will that work?”

The man seemed to be considering his suggestion. His eyes narrowed for a moment; then he nodded slightly, his lips curving up in what might have been a smile.

“That could work,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “But you’ll do exactly as I say.”

George nodded quickly. Anything to distract him. His breath came a little easier now that it seemed the man wasn’t going to hurt him. “Of course, of course. Whatever you want.”

With a decisive nod, the man raised his arm out in a sweeping gesture. “Well, then. Shall we?”

George gulped, unsure of what he was meant to do. “What?”

“You can’t call her here, Professor. We need a little more privacy for this conversation.”

Oh, God. No.
He couldn’t go with him. He was as good as dead if he walked out of the store. His heart thumped madly as he searched for a reason—
any
reason—to stay put.

The man still held his arm up, but his tone was steely when he spoke again. “Professor,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. But if you don’t do what I say, I will make life very unpleasant for your wife.”

George stepped forward mechanically, his legs stiff and uncooperative. He jumped when the man’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“There’s a good lad,” the devil whispered in his ear as they walked to the front of the pharmacy. “Let’s hope you can clean up the mess you made.”

Chapter 8

“H
ow’s it looking?” James set a beer by Thomas’s hand, then carefully lowered himself into the chair he’d dragged over to the desk. He flipped off the cap of his own bottle and took a long swig; the bubbles tickled their way down into his stomach.

Thomas leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. He reached for the bottle and toasted James in silent thanks.

“Looking good, actually. I’ve got her showing up at the safe house in Herndon. Close enough to be believable, but far enough away that if anyone actually goes to check it out, it will waste their time.”

James considered the screen as he sipped his brew. He wasn’t quite sure how Thomas had done it, but he wasn’t going to ask too many questions. Ignorance was bliss, as far as this kind of thing went.

“Will you be able to tell if anyone shows up there?”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah, if they break in, it will trip the alarm.”

James frowned. “But they won’t need to break in. They can just look at the house and see that it’s empty.”

“Not exactly,” Thomas said, a sly grin playing at his mouth. “Remember Fisher?”

“Mark Fisher?” James said, shaking his head. “What does he have to do with this?”

“We play poker together twice a month. He lost last time. A lot.” Thomas lifted one shoulder. “I told him I’d forgo his debt if he’d spend some time at the Herndon house tonight, make sure everything was in order.”

James smiled, his appreciation for Thomas growing by the minute. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”

The other man just laughed. “Hey, it’s a living.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Thomas typed away while James enjoyed the feeling of sitting in a comfortable chair in familiar surroundings. For the first time in days, his brain slowed and he let himself relax, sinking deeper into the cushion as the tension drained out of his muscles.

He heard the groaning of the pipes and the sound of running water in the background. Kelly must be getting cleaned up. He needed a shower as well, but he was feeling fine where he was for the moment. He’d get to it later.

She’d shut down quickly, he mused, thinking back to their earlier conversation. As soon as he’d asked about her past, she’d thrown up a wall so high and thick it was a wonder she could see to walk. If that wasn’t a red flag, he didn’t know what was.

But how to get her to talk? He swallowed another mouthful of beer as he considered his options. Given her behavior, he was pretty certain she’d been hurt in the past, and not your run-of-the-mill bad-breakup kind of hurt. He was willing to bet she’d been hit. In his experience, people didn’t shy away from physical contact unless there was some history of abuse.

He rubbed his chest with his free hand, absently trying to massage away the ache that had formed at the thought of Kelly bruised and battered. He closed his eyes, calling up the image of her naked body and seeing their encounter with fresh eyes. He didn’t recall any scars on her smooth, pale skin, but they may have simply healed. Besides, abuse wasn’t always physical....

He let out a breath, suddenly exhausted. His side throbbed and his limbs felt heavy, weighted down with guilt and responsibility and worry. He needed to know what Kelly was hiding—had to know—but he couldn’t find out tonight.

“You got any food in this place?”

“Ah...” James switched gears, trying to remember the last time he’d been to the grocery store. Was it last week? No, he’d worked late all last week, which left no time for shopping. Maybe it had been the week before....

His head was starting to ache, so he gave up trying to think. “No. There’s a Thai place around the corner, though. Want me to order in?”

Thomas leaned back and stretched his arms over his head. “God, yes. I’m starving.”

James dug his cell phone out of his pocket. “I suppose I can buy you dinner. Any special requests?”

Thomas rattled off a list of food that made James’s eyebrows shoot up, and the total the restaurant relayed back had him rethinking his offer. He hung up, then eyed the other man up and down.

“How are you not five hundred pounds?”

Thomas shot him a grin and shrugged. “My excellent metabolism?”

James snorted. “Whatever.”

“Don’t hate me ’cause I’m awesome.” Thomas turned back to the computer and began typing again. “I’m almost done here. What comes next?”

James shifted in the chair. “I’m not quite sure.” He tipped the bottle back, swallowing the now-warm dregs with a wince. “I’m still working on that part.”

“You at least need to check in with Carmichael.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t trust him.” It wasn’t a question, but James still felt the need to respond.

“I don’t think he’s dirty. I just think he’s incompetent.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh. “Glad I’m not the only one,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t matter.” James shrugged, reaching forward to set his empty bottle on the desk. “We’re stuck with him.”

“For now.” Thomas picked at the label on his bottle, refusing to meet his eyes. His tone was quiet, almost confessional, and James wondered what, exactly, the other agent knew.

He decided to probe a little. “You’ve heard differently?”

“Just rumors. I overheard him on the phone the other day. He was saying something about covering his ass if this op blows up in his face.”

Disgust was a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. “Figures.”

“What should we do?”

It was a good question, one James wished he could answer. Unfortunately, all his energies were focused on keeping Kelly safe and solving this case. He didn’t have the time or the inclination to figure out how they should deal with Carmichael.

“We solve this case,” he said, his voice strong despite his fatigue. “That’s all we can do.”

Thomas nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Do you think we can?”

James didn’t hesitate.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

Kelly’s phone rang while she was putting on her shirt.

Getting dressed was proving to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. While Thomas had been kind enough to grab some clothes for her, he hadn’t thought to bring any button-down shirts. As a result, Kelly had to contort herself in impossible ways to get her arms through the sleeves of the T-shirt without moving her shoulder too much.

It was proving to be a slow, painful process, and the shrill ring of her phone wasn’t helping any.

She jerked the shirt down with a vicious tug, then grabbed the phone off the bed.

“’Lo?” she mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to straighten the shirt. It had gotten twisted in the struggle and was bunched uncomfortably on one side.

“Kelly?”

“What?”

“Kelly, are you okay? You don’t sound good.”

The voice was familiar, setting off a tingle of recognition in the recesses of her drug-addled brain. It sounded like... But surely it couldn’t be...

“Who is this?” It came out a little sharper than she had intended, but she was tired and in pain. If this wasn’t important, she wanted to go to bed.

There was a pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “It’s George.”

She was silent for a beat, certain she had misheard. “George Collins?”

“The one and only,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Kelly fought to shake off her annoyance as her mind kicked into gear. Where was he? Why was he calling her? Did he know that the FBI was searching for him? What should she do?

“Sorry, George. I’ve got a cold, and I’m kind of high on decongestants right now.” She tried to sound casual, hoping he’d believe her. “What’s going on?”

“I’m extending my vacation,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Ruth and I are back in town to regroup, and then we’re taking off again.”

“That’s great,” she said, trying to sound happy for him. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, here and there,” he responded airily, as if the details were of little consequence. “I’m calling because I need you to do me a favor.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering what he was getting her into.

“I’ll be seeing a collaborator on this next leg of my vacation, and I promised I’d give him a vial of modified
Bacillus
for use in his experiments. I don’t want to come into the lab to get it because I know I’d get bogged down in work and I don’t have time for that. Would you pick it up for me?” He paused, and when she didn’t respond right away, he rushed on. “I’d meet you somewhere to get it, of course. Wouldn’t ask you to do
all
the work.” He finished with a forced laugh, sounding nervous for the first time.

He must know the lab was being watched, but was he trying to evade the FBI or Caleb’s shadowy organization? Either way, he seemed to think she wouldn’t be in danger. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “Sure, George. I could do that for you.”

“Excellent!” he said, sounding relieved. “I’ll call you back later with the details, all right? Ruth needs me for something now. Talk to you later!” He hung up before she had a chance to respond, leaving Kelly shaking her head and staring at the phone in her hand.

What had just happened? George clearly wanted a strain from the lab, but why? Was he going to develop it in some way, to buy his safety from Caleb’s group? He must know that the terrorist group and the FBI were after him, which explained why he didn’t want to come out of hiding. Where was he now? The FBI thought he was on the run, but it sounded as if he was back in town.

She sank onto the bed, overwhelmed by the onslaught of worries George’s request had triggered. She rubbed her forehead as she tried to rein in her galloping thoughts, forcing herself to take deep breaths past the tight feeling in her throat.

“This is a good thing,” she muttered, massaging her temples. This could be the break James needed to solve the case. Maybe they could trace the call when George contacted her again to find out where he was hiding.

The thought that this could all be over soon loosened the band around her chest, and she sucked in air. Her life could go back to normal, and she could focus on rebuilding her relationship with James.

She indulged in a moment of fantasy—the two of them cooking dinner together in his kitchen. Sharing a bottle of wine, cozied up on the couch with his cats and watching a movie together. He’d put his arm around her, and she’d snuggle against his side, safe and warm. They’d go to bed later and make love, slow and sweet. She’d fall asleep in his arms, her heart light and her body sated.

Could they ever have that kind of relationship? Could James see his way to forgiving her for walking out on him? She had more questions than answers, but she knew one thing for certain: they could only move forward after putting this ugly mess behind them.

Now that George had made contact, they were one step closer to doing just that.

* * *

Kelly opened the bedroom door to the tantalizing aroma of hot food. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation as she walked into the den. Two empty beer bottles sat on the computer desk against the far wall, and she heard the low rumble of male voices in the kitchen, accompanied by the clinking of plates and silverware. Clearly, dinner was about to be served.

James entered the room, a stack of plates in his hands. He stopped when he saw her. “Oh, good. I was just about to come grab you. Hungry?”

She nodded. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. Just have a seat.” He nodded toward the couch, so she took a corner spot. James set the plates on the coffee table, then headed back to the kitchen. Thomas chose that moment to enter the room, carrying a large bag, which he deposited next to the plates.

“Hope you like Thai,” he said with a friendly smile.

“It smells wonderful,” she said truthfully. Her stomach, having been neglected all day, was roiling and gurgling in anticipation of food, and she was suddenly ravenous. She helped Thomas pull foam containers from the bag as James returned with glasses of water.

She waited until she’d eaten a bit before breaking the news of George’s call, figuring that once she told them, she wouldn’t be able to finish her dinner because of their onslaught of questions. The men had already cleared off most of their plates with a few large bites, so now was as good a time as any.

Kelly set her fork down and took a deep breath. James shot her a concerned look. “Don’t like the food? I could order you something else if—”

She cut him off. “No, the food is great, thanks. I need to tell you guys something.”

Now Thomas was looking at her, his fork poised halfway to his mouth. Having both men focused so intently on her made Kelly’s stomach flip, and she pleated her napkin while she tamped down her discomfort at being the center of attention.

“Kelly?” James’s voice was soft, gentle even, and she realized they were both waiting for her to say something. She felt her face heat, but when she looked up, she could see James wasn’t upset or impatient. His expression was calm and open, interested but not annoyed. This wasn’t the first time he’d made her feel secure, and she relaxed, knowing that she didn’t have to deal with George alone. James was here, and together they’d figure out what to do.

“George called me,” she said, keeping her gaze on James’s face. His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything.

The clang of silverware on ceramic interrupted the silence, and she looked over to see that Thomas had dropped his fork. “George Collins?” he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief. “As in, the George Collins who is a person of interest in this investigation?”

“Yes. He called about twenty minutes ago. He wants me to retrieve a sample from the lab and bring it to him.”

“Did he say where?” She swung her gaze back to James, who had placed his plate on the coffee table and was now leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Not yet. He’s going to call me back soon with the location.”

James shot a meaningful glance at Thomas, and she saw the other man nod in return.

“What? What does that look mean?”

Both men were silent for a moment, then James spoke. “It means this is a setup. He’s putting things in motion and will call you back when he’s sure he’s covered his bases. You’ll show up to give him the sample, and you’ll either be killed or taken.”