Tears pricked the back of Nora’s eyes, but she kept her voice calm. “You’ll be fine. We’ll figure this out.” Guilt threatened to swamp her. “I’m so sorry, Lynne.”
Lynne glanced her way and rolled her eyes. “Knock that shit off,” she said. “Seriously. Your shy assistant, Zach? Who would’ve thought it?”
Nora half chuckled. “Not me.” The idea was too crazy to believe. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
Lynne glanced down at her chest, glowing a bright blue under the hospital gown. “I should’ve destroyed the green strain the second I saw its power. I thought maybe we could use it to contain the illness somehow.”
“I was there,” Nora said softly.
Lynne shut her eyes. “I know. Any news on poor Zach?”
Nora bit her lip, her chest aching. “Four attacks that we know of right now.” Two rapes and the other two assaults, both with an exchange of bodily fluids. The lunatic was trying to infect people. The idea that the man she’d known and trusted for months was capable of rape nauseated her. Deke, the Metro Police, and the FBI were dropping a net on D.C. in the hopes of catching him. If he got out, somehow made it to another city, things could get bad. Really bad.
Lynne opened her bloodshot eyes. “Let’s hope they find him soon.” She rubbed her lips with a pale hand.
Nora nodded. “They will. So Bret came to see you.”
“Yes.” Lynne coughed. “He’s under a lot of pressure. Don’t tell anybody, but the vice president is fighting heart problems.”
Wow. So the guy could actually be named president. “Do you love him?” Nora asked. If she could keep Lynne thinking happy thoughts, that wouldn’t hurt.
Lynne shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think so, and then sometimes he turns into a narcissistic asshat.”
“Isn’t that the very definition of a politician?” Nora asked. Heck. “Doesn’t a person have to be a narcissist to want to be the president?”
Lynne snorted and rubbed her eyes. “Probably.”
The woman needed to rest. Nora forced a smile. “Why don’t you get some sleep, and if I hear anything, I’ll let you know?”
Lynne snuggled back against the pillows, and her eyelids lowered to half-mast. “First, talk to me about anything but Scorpius or my love life. Let’s talk about your love life. Tell me about your Scot and if you’re going to screw it up again.”
The mention of Deke seared heat through Nora’s abdomen. She needed to get back to the lab, but whether she wanted to admit it or not, her friend was running out of time, and this might be the last time they talked. The thought made her chest hurt. So she dropped into a chair. “I’m out of my depth.”
“Good.” Lynne grimaced and readjusted her blankets. “You love him?”
Nora frowned. “We just started dating again.”
“So the hell what?” Lynne whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m beginning to see how short life is. You’ve loved that man since you were sixteen. Why the hell are you waffling?”
Because she hadn’t really known him. After the previous night, she’d caught a glimpse of the dangerous being she’d always suspected of living inside Deacan McDougall. “He’s too much, you know?” she said softly. “It’s like he was born in the wrong time.”
Lynne’s eyes glazed. “Maybe he was born in exactly the right time.” Her voice dropped to almost dreamy, almost trance-like. “If not this illness, then the next one. Or the one after that.” Her eyes fluttered closed.
Nora stood and approached the plastic, a chill trickling down her spine. “What do you mean?”
Lynne sighed. “At some point, human beings are done. You know that. Just waiting for the right pandemic.”
Nora gulped down fear. Sure, as a scientist, she knew the human race was due for a natural disaster, be it illness, comet strike, or nuclear bomb. But as a human with hope, she clung to faith that she’d survive it. “What’s your point, Lynnie?”
Lynne’s eyelids fluttered open. “We’ve forgotten that living and surviving are two different things. They require different skills.” She shut her eyes again and curled onto her side. Her voice, slight and whispery, continued. “Your Scot, dark as he may be, is a survivor. Don’t let go of him.” She fell into sleep.
Nora’s shoulders trembled, and she clasped her hands together. It was just the fever. Lynne had been talking nonsense from the fever. Yet no matter how hard she tried, how hard she rubbed her arms, Nora couldn’t ban the chill of truth.
At some point, human beings are done.
Chapter Twelve
Week 3
2,017 people dead
Likelihood of Scorpius Containment: Poor
Only the dead have seen the end of war.
—PLATO
After four full days of hunting Zach Barter, Deke was ready to kill somebody. He strode inside his temporary office at the CDC and tossed his phone across the desk. Fuck it all to hell. He’d stalked Barter through three states, only to come up empty in Virginia. The bastard was smart . . . and raping his way across the East.
When he wasn’t attacking women, he was spitting in restaurant salad dressings.
The determination to infect people might be part of the illness, but Deke didn’t give a shit.
Barter needed to be taken out, and now.
Infections were springing up in hospitals throughout the East, and soon the CDC would have no choice but to make an announcement. Hell on earth was about to break out, and although the government currently had a blanket over all news, at some point the truth would get out. Hell, the bloggers were already announcing a new pandemic.
Sure, he might be overreacting. But his gut had never failed him, and he didn’t figure it was off target right now, either.
A shadow at his door caught his attention, and he half turned. “Mr. Speaker.”
Bret Atherton strode inside while two agents covered the door. “I was just saying good-bye to Lynne. They fly her out in an hour.”
Deke nodded and gestured toward a chair before crossing to a file cabinet and fetching bourbon and two glasses to pour generously. “I spoke to Lynne an hour ago. She’s strong and stubborn.” He’d met the Speaker a few times throughout the last couple of years, and the guy seemed all right. “The hospital in Maryland is better equipped to care for her, and it’s a short jaunt there for you.”
“I know.” Bret took a chair and accepted a drink. “I just like her closer to me so I can control everything.”
Deke laughed. “That sounds so wrong.”
Bret lifted his gaze and smirked. “Yet you know exactly what I mean.”
“Aye.” Deke grinned because the guy was right. Deke had no intention of allowing Nora out of town until he captured Zach Barter. Guards were now posted throughout the laboratory section of the temporary CDC building. “How’s the president’s daughter? I haven’t had an update since I got back into town.”
“Same.” Bret took a deep drink of the potent liquid. “As the doctors have described it to me, the bacteria attacked her brain and stripped away her humanity.”
“We’ll find a cure,” Deke said.
“Maybe. Lynne’s brain scans are good, though.” Bret sighed. “Although the scientists couldn’t see anything abnormal in Zach Barter’s scans.”
“Maybe the scans aren’t a good way to determine anything,” Deke said.
“They’re not.” Bret shook his head. “Apparently not all brains show a change. Or rather, we don’t have pre-Scorpius scans to study in order to see if there’s a change. Brains differ. Even the brains of psychopaths vary. Some have abnormalities. Some don’t.”
Deke swirled the amber-colored drink in his glass. “Well, I’m hopeful for Lynne. What’s the latest on the infection?”
“At least two thousand are dead and ten times that have been infected. Maybe more. The infection is being spread by Zach and maybe others who’ve survived the fever.” Bret coughed. “I’ve convinced the White House we need to go public.”
“Good.
” Deke studied one of the smartest men on the Hill. “Do you think we can still contain the illness?” he asked.
“No.”
Deke’s stomach rioted. “Me either.” The noises from outside grew louder. “Sounds like they’re about to take Lynne.”
Bret nodded and stood. “I already said good-bye, and I can’t go through it again. Call with any updates.” He set down the glass. “We need to secure a copy of the stronger Scorpius strain, the green one that infected Lynne, and send it to the lab up north. Just in case.”
Deke nodded. “I know.” Boy, would Nora be pissed. For now, he had to make good on a promise. He’d talked to Lynne earlier, and she’d asked him for a favor. One he’d grant without question.
If Nora agreed.
Exhaustion weighed down Nora’s limbs and made it difficult to hold back tears. The last several nights, she’d slept alone, when she’d slept, as Deke tried to find Zach. She’d missed him far more than was healthy.
To think on a normal week it’d be her turn to host bunko, and she’d be worrying about what salad to make. But she steeled her shoulders and spoke softly into the speaker set in the wall, her gaze on her friend in the plastic room. “You’ll be okay, Lynnie. The hospital in Maryland is prepared for you, and I’ll be along as soon as I can.”
Even pale and gasping for breath, Lynne Harmony rolled bloodshot eyes. She lay in the hospital bed, not moving, the pallor of her skin lighter than the white blanket covering her rapidly diminishing form. She now needed oxygen to breathe, and the strong antibiotics being pumped into her veins were doing more damage than good. “They’re gonna move me in a minute, and I need a favor from you first.”
“Anything.” Nora slid closer to the plastic. “You’re my best friend.” And you’re dying. Bret had fought tears when he’d left earlier. “I’ll do anything for you.”
Lynne’s lips trembled in a parody of a smile. “Call it a deathbed wish, if you like.”
“You’re not going to die,” Nora snapped out. “Fight this, damn it.”
Lynne’s eyelids fluttered. “I will. Promise. For now, you said anything.”
Nora nodded. “Yes.”
With an obvious struggle, Lynne forced her eyelids open, and her green eyes focused. “I always thought we’d be at each other’s weddings. You know, ugly bridesmaid dresses and all.”
Nora frowned, her instincts humming. “Me too.”
“Well, this is fucking ugly.” Lynne glanced down at the hospital gown. “Fugly, if you will.”
Nora tilted her head. “Lynnie—”
“No.” Color suffused Lynne’s face. “No silliness, no protest, no self-protection. I want this, and you promised.” Her voice slurred on the end.
Nora shook her head. “Want what?”
“You. Safe and protected.” Lynne gasped for air. “It’s all I want.”
Oh, man. The fever was taking her brilliant friend away. Nora nodded. “I’m safe, Lynne. I can protect myself.”
Lynne snorted, the sound tinny over the line. “Bullshit. With what’s coming, with disaster, you can’t protect yourself. He’s stronger than you. Meaner. A survivor.” Her eyelids fluttered. The monitors beeped.
“Lynne!” Nora clapped her hands.
“What?” Lynne groused, opening her eyes again. “Oh yeah. Marry him so I can die in peace. I need to know you’re protected.”
Nora’s head jerked back. Her stomach dropped. “Marry him?” Where had her friend’s head gone? She was perfectly capable of protecting herself. Wasn’t she?
“Yes.” Lynne sighed.
The door opened, and Deke stalked in, his gun at his hip and a frown on his face. Behind him loped a gray-haired pastor in full robes.
Her heart jumped hard, and her abdomen warmed. Harsh lines cut into the sides of his mouth, and his green eyes held anger. But damn, it was good to see him. Then Lynne’s words hit her. “Oh, hell no,” Nora swore.
Amusement lightened Deke’s green eyes to the color of a spring river. She gaped, not having seen the expression on him for nearly a month.
He nodded at Lynne. “I take it you made your deathbed request?”
Nora turned and punched him in the arm. Hard. “She’s not on her deathbed.”
Deke shot her a warning glance and rubbed his bicep, leaning over to speak in the mic. “I’m not sure about marrying this wild woman, Lynne. She just hit me.”
Lynne coughed out air, and a tremor shook her body. The blue heart shone bright from beneath the covers. “You promised, McDougall.”
“Aye, I did.” He turned and looked down at Nora before grabbing her hands in his big ones. “Start the vows, Pastor.”
Nora shook her head and tried to jerk free. Without success. “You set this up,” she accused Deke.
“No,” Lynne said weakly. “I talked to him this morning. Asked him. Please, Nora. I want to hear the words before I go.”
Nora gaped, looking from Lynne to Deke. This couldn’t be happening; the fever was seriously screwing with Lynne’s brain. “This is crazy, Deacan,” Nora whispered.
He lifted a massive shoulder. “I always figured on marrying you again, and why not make your friend happy? Give her some peace.”
“Please,” Lynne groaned.
On all that was holy. Fine. Bloody Deacan McDougall had no problem taking advantage of the situation, now did he? Nora could grant a deathbed wish, if the vows would give Lynne peace. Then she’d march her ass down to the courthouse and annul the damn thing. Nobody was going to force her into marriage. She showed her teeth to Deke, and his chin lifted.
Nora pushed out air. “If I marry him, you have to promise to live, Lynne. Promise me.”
Lynne nodded. “It’s a deal.”
Nora glanced back at Deke. “Fine.”
The pastor was fast and kept the vows simple. Within five minutes, Nora found herself married to Deacan once again. When he slipped on her wedding band, the same one from before, she gasped.
“You threw it at my head when you left,” he said calmly.
“You kept it?” she whispered.
He looked down through heavy-lidded eyes. “Aye. Figured I’d put it back in place at some point.”
Lynne smiled at the end, her eyelids closing. “You all come visit me in Maryland for your honeymoon,” she whispered before falling asleep.
“You can kiss your bride,” the pastor said.
Nora stilled and opened her mouth. Deke leaned down and grasped her shoulder, pulling her into him. His mouth covered hers, so much power in the move that she rose to her tiptoes out of instinct. He kissed her hard enough her head fell back, and she had to grab his rigid biceps to keep her balance. His tongue swept inside her mouth with masculine insistence, staking his claim, and desire spiraled through her flesh to her blood. Maybe deeper.
Finally, he released her.
She blinked, her body rioting. With a gasp, she released his arms.
He took her hand and led her from the room and down the corridor. She tripped beside him, trying to control herself. Finally, he paused.
She freed her hand from his. “I can’t believe you went along with that,” she hissed.
He rubbed her arm, his expression unreadable. “Your friend is worried about the future and wants you safe. I want you to be mine again. The timing worked.”
Nora drew away, facing him fully, needing to lift her head to keep his gaze. Man, he was tall—and big. Sometimes she forgot about his sheer size. “I’m not staying married to you.”
His eyes darkened, and his face hardened in a way she hadn’t seen before. “Aye, you are.” He leaned in, bringing the scent of male with him. “You run this time, Nora, and I swear to all the Scottish gods watching over me, I’ll come after you.”
Chapter Thirteen
That evening, after a frustrating day in the lab, Nora waited in what was now her office, trying not to cry. The CDC had taken Lynne away, and her chances weren’t good. But she’d sure made things interesting before leaving, no
w hadn’t she? Leave it to Lynne, the world’s most dignified romantic, to arrange Nora’s love life before leaving.
Married. Lingering rays of moonlight slanted through the partially drawn shades, catching Nora’s simple platinum band. She was once again married to Deacan McDougall. Before, she’d been able to somewhat handle the boy. Now he was all man. Could anybody handle him? Even though it had only been four hours, she felt different.
The way he’d looked at her, the way he’d touched her after the ceremony . . . had been different.
Purposeful. Protective. Possessive.
The part of him he’d always contained seemed present now. Out free and wild.
Judging from the kiss he’d given her, he didn’t have any intention of subduing himself. The guy she’d glimpsed during her first week in D.C., the cheerful strategist whose biggest concern was creating battle plans for faraway places, was gone. Instinct told her the existence of that Deke had been fleeting, anyway. A man’s true nature couldn’t be contained, and she knew now, more than ever, that Deacan would never be restrained.
Even if the CDC contained the spreading infection, even if life continued on as it was, Deacan wouldn’t remain a mere advisor.
That much she knew.
What he’d do, she wasn’t sure. But he was a fighter, a warrior, and those characteristics lived in his very blood. She’d known it years ago, and she’d run.
Was she strong enough to stay this time?
A shadow crossed her vision, and Deacan filled the doorway. Solid, strong, and steady. “The FBI has a new lead on Zach Barter in Texas.”
She swallowed. “I see.”
He reached out a hand. “Let’s go home. We need to talk.”
They needed to talk? Seriously? Steam nearly boiled from her ears, and she shot to her feet. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
“I know.” He waited, ever patient, until she’d crossed the room to take his hand. “While I’ve been finishing up with the FBI, have you been in here plotting my death, planning your escape, or accepting your current situation?”
“If I were plotting your death, McDougall, you’d be dead.” Head held high, she began to sweep past him.