Nora nodded. “I know.”
Bobbi poked her head in the doorway. Today she’d worn a bright pink top with tight jeans and looked like a cheerleader from any California college team. “The samples of the president’s blood have arrived, and they’re in the lab. The White House is expecting a cure today.”
Nora snorted. “Then we’ll get right on that.”
Bobbi nodded. “Have you seen Zach?”
“He’s getting an MRI down in Imaging.” Lynne rested her elbows on the desk. “If you end up in his contained room with him, there’s no kissing, no sex with Zach. You wear gloves and don’t touch anything.”
Bobbi rolled her eyes. “I know, but talking is okay, right?”
Lynne lifted a shoulder. “Talking is fine.”
“Good.” Bobbi stretched her neck. “I’ve been receiving the stats from across the country, and the contagion is spreading, but doctors don’t know what it is. At some point . . .”
“I know. We’re waiting for approval to announce.” Lynne swallowed. “Would you make sure Zach found Imaging?”
“Yep.” Bobbi hopped away.
Lynne’s phone buzzed, and she answered it. “Hi. No. Lunch? Probably not, but I can meet tonight after setting up our next batch of tests. They should take at least twelve hours to come to fruition. Okay. You too.” She slid the phone back onto the desk.
Nora lowered her chin but kept quiet. No way. She knew that look. “Oh, my God. You totally are seeing somebody.”
Lynne’s eyes widened. “Shhh. My door is open.”
Nora shoved hair out of her eyes. “So? This is a secret? Why is it a secret?” She stood. “He’s not married, is he?”
Lynne rolled her eyes. “For the love of Pete, of course he isn’t married. Geez. I just try to keep my personal life private, you know?”
Nora planted both hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lynne swept both hands out. “It’s pretty new, just a few months, and I figured I’d dish all when we met next month for our Vegas weekend.”
“Oh.” Nora’s mind spun. She leaned against the chair. “Well? Dish now.”
Lynne smiled, her eyes glimmering. “His name is Bret Atherton, he’s smart and sexy, and he’s from Atlanta. We met at a fund-raiser for a local kid’s ranch. Our first date, he took me for a picnic.”
Nora squinted. “Bret Atherton? As in Congressman Bret Atherton?”
Lynne wrinkled her nose. “Yes.”
Nora snorted. “You’re dating a politician. A congressman from Georgia.” She laughed. Her wild, free, brilliant friend was dating a politician. A blond, sexy, sharp politician. Her mind clicked through what she knew. “Wait a minute. After the last elections . . . didn’t he become the Speaker of the House?”
“Yes.” Lynne sighed. “I like him, politics and all, but we’re taking it slow.”
“You slut. You’ve done him.”
Lynne rolled her eyes. “Look who’s talking. You’re back in the same air as your ex for one day, and you can barely walk.”
“Shut up,” Nora said without heat. “I’ve seen your guy on television. Definitely charismatic.”
Lynne shrugged. “I know—he’s pretty amazing. May make a bid for the presidency next time. The guy has quite an ego, you know? For some reason, I keep finding that incredibly sexy.” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down. “My newest results are spitting out in the lab, and shouldn’t yours be available sometime today? The new ones on the nanostructured oxide? For now, you can help me. We can talk men later.”
Nora sighed and rose. “Between the two of us, we really know how to complicate our lives.”
“Amen, sister.”
Deke sat on a flowery chair across an antique coffee table from Sally Phillips, who relaxed on a matching sofa in the residence of the White House. “I’ll ask you again, do you understand me?” he asked quietly.
She rolled her eyes, looking like any other put-upon nineteen-year-old co-ed. “Yes. I get you. If I move, if I try to lunge and bite you, you’ll have no choice but to protect yourself.” Her pretty pink lips pouted. “When did you become such a wimp?”
“When you infected your father, the President of the United States and my boss, with a deadly bacteria.” He kept his expression bland but watched closely.
Nothing. No emotion, no regret, no anger. “That was an accident, Deke. I promise.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
He rubbed his whiskered chin. Damn it. He’d forgotten to shave again. Wincing, he set his hands on his knees, careful not to touch anything else in the room. “Listen, Sally. I want to help you.”
She rubbed her hands down jean-clad thighs and sighed. With her blond hair in a ponytail and wearing a Stanford T-shirt, she looked like any pretty teenager. “I appreciate your offer, but the doctors are wrong. Sure, I might’ve been kinda crazy right after the fever when I bit my dad, but I feel fine now. And awful about Dad.” She smiled, flashing twin dimples. “He’s strong and will be fine.”
“I know.”
She huffed again. “I feel okay and don’t want to bite anybody else. When can I get out of house arrest?”
Deke sighed. “Your last brain scans still show lack of activity in your frontal cortex.”
She snorted. “My brain is working just fine. Give me a break. They can’t tell from a bunch of colors what’s going on in my head.”
Good point. “I’m inclined to agree with you there.” He leaned forward, his hands dangling between his knees. “For now, we have to make sure you’re all right before letting you loose. You understand that.”
She leaned back her head. “I do, but I’m so sick of being cooped up. What if my brain scans never get colorful? I mean, if they were colorful before. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe I’m somebody who doesn’t have a lot of colors flashing from machinery in a freakin’ lab.” She lowered her chin, and tears glinted in her eyes. “It’s like they want me to go crazy.”
Being held inside without any freedom would drive him up the wall, too. “I’m sorry, Sally. I’ll talk to the scientists at the CDC and determine if there’s any other way to test your brain than what they’re doing.” More importantly, the girl had a point. What if her brain scans didn’t ever really light up? Was that a true sign that she was dangerous? Somehow, he wasn’t buying it. “I’ll do my best.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Why are you in charge here? I mean, you’re not Secret Service or in the military. What exactly are you?” Her focus narrowed.
“Special Strategic Advisor to the President of the United States,” Deke murmured.
She chuckled. “Sounds like a complete bullshit title, now doesn’t it?”
“Aye.”
“I’ve been around politics my whole life, you know?” She glanced toward the heavily curtained window and then back.
He breathed out, his shoulders tightening. “That kind of sucks.”
“It really does,” she said softly. “But you know what? I can recognize a soldier, and I can recognize a killer. You’re both, aren’t you?”
He couldn’t really blame her for being pissed. “I’ve been a soldier, and I’ve killed.”
“How many?” Her eyes glittered.
He shook his head.
She clucked her tongue. “I’m in trouble because I bit my dad while under a fever, and you’re an advisor to the president because you’ve killed tons of people.” She leaned toward him, gaze intense. “You believe in hell?”
“Yes.” He had to concentrate to keep his brogue at bay. Tension lifted the hair on the back of his neck, and he paid heed.
“Me too.” Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze dropped to her knees. “At the worst of the fever, I almost died.” She lifted her gaze, her lips twisting. “I didn’t see a light, Deke. I heard a darkness.”
Chilled nails ticked down his spine. “And now?”
She rested her chin on her hand and let out a low sigh. “I don’t hear anything and just want to go shopping.”
&nb
sp; Now that sounded like a normal kid. His body relaxed. “I’ll see what I can do.” He rose and edged around the coffee table. “Give me a little time.”
“Okay.” She scratched her elbow.
“Call me if you need anything.” He passed the sofa and headed toward the door, his heart heavy. Poor kid. They had to be able to figure out the brain scans and whether the colors really meant anything.
A wisp of sound.
He partially turned, only to be attacked by a hurtling female body. Pain thumped into his shoulder. All instinct, he pivoted and shoved. Hard.
Sally flew across the room and smashed into the couch, bunching instantly to leap toward him again, nails out, teeth bared. Saliva slid down her chin.
He settled on his feet, waited, and took the hit by grabbing her arms. A quick turn, and he planted her on her face.
She struggled, spitting, an inhuman snarling jerking her body.
Holy fuck. The kid probably weighed a hundred pounds, but her strength was beyond what it should be. “Restraints,” he yelled toward the closed door.
Sally kept trying to turn her head toward him, teeth snapping. He clasped the back of her neck and held her still. “Take it easy, Sally,” he tried to soothe like he would a wild animal.
She kicked and howled.
A Secret Service agent ran inside with zip ties.
“Stay away from her mouth,” Deke ordered. Shit. He was tying up and might have to gag the president’s daughter.
The agent’s eyes widened, and she handed over the ties. “Did she bite you?”
“No.” But she’d hit him hard enough to bruise his shoulder.
“I thought Sally was better,” the agent said.
Deke nodded. “So did I.” Fuck, was he wrong.
The agent lifted both eyebrows. “I just received word.” The atmosphere thickened around Deke. “And?”
She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “The president is dead.”
Chapter Eight
Week 2
50 people dead
Likelihood of Scorpius Containment: Probable
Nae man can tether time or tide.
—ROBERT BURNS, SCOTTISH POET
After days without positive results, Nora had left experiments running and headed to her apartment for a very late dinner with Lynne and Bobbi. They devoured her homemade chicken-surprise dish, and she clicked off the phone after giving directions for Amanda Bison to play first base and July Newcomb to cover for shortstop.
As she slipped her phone back into her pocket, both women stared at her with various expressions of what the hell?
She sighed. “Last year, one of my bunko friends needed an assistant coach for a girls’ softball team. The Tigers. I played softball as a kid and somehow ended up volunteering.” She had a blast with the girls and the team. “We won the division last year.”
Bobbi raised both eyebrows. “You play bunko?”
Nora nodded. “Yes. I do have a life outside of my job, you know.” She played bunko with a fun and tipsy group of friends, jogged regularly, and coached softball. “I miss my life.” The calmness and order of it.
“You’ll get back to it soon,” Lynne said, patting her hand.
Would she? Although she’d only been gone a week, she wondered if life would ever get back to normal. Scorpius was spreading. “I hope so.” When the president had died, they’d had to announce his passing to the world, but the government had lied by saying it was a stroke. “We need to cure this thing and now. When will the neurologists from Johns Hopkins head this way?” Nora asked.
Lynne set down her beer bottle and rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “Tomorrow morning.”
Bobbi scratched her head. “Why aren’t they here already?”
“Their medical facility in Baltimore is the best. Now they want a firsthand look,” Lynne murmured, reaching for another scan. “Zach’s brain scan is bright and colorful.”
“He is a genius.” Bobbi snorted, her gaze remaining sober. “But he’s still contagious.”
Lynne nodded. “I know. Any thoughts on that one?” She lifted an eyebrow at Nora.
Nora shrugged. While she’d been watching Zach carefully, he really did seem to be all right. Cheerful, smart, and nerdy as usual. “Being contagious sucks, but it isn’t the end of the world. I mean, there are many carriers of MRSA, and they live normal lives. They can only infect people who have wounds, and it’s rare. But possible.”
“We don’t know enough about Scorpius yet, so I can’t release him from the CDC’s secure facility,” Lynne said on a strong exhale. “I think I’d almost prefer if Scorpius were a virus.”
“No.” Nora flipped open another manila file folder. “With a bacteria, we can create an antibiotic or at least a nanosponge to take it out. Hopefully.”
Lynne yawned until her jaw popped and then glanced at her watch. “Crap. It’s midnight. Let’s all get a few hours’ shuteye and meet in the main lab at four. The enzyme experiments should be concluded by then. Hopefully they’ve done their job and discovered a way to break up the DNA of Scorpius.”
Bobbi groaned and pushed away from the table. “Four a.m.?”
Lynne stood and rolled her eyes. “All right. Five a.m., but everyone be ready to go.” She glanced at the cluttered table. “You need help cleaning up?”
“No.” Nora wanted a few more minutes of work. “You’ll just make it more disorganized.”
“I’d object to that statement if I wasn’t so tired.” Lynne stood and inched toward the door.
Bobbi hovered. “Thanks for dinner, and thanks for letting me work with you two. I really like Zach and want to help him.”
“You bet.” Nora smiled. Ah, young love. She remembered how quickly it could happen.
Lynne and Bobbi took off.
Less than a minute later, a knock echoed on the door. Nora glanced around the table. What had Lynne forgotten now?
Humming and shrugging stiff shoulders, Nora crossed the living room and opened the door. Her mouth gaped open. “Zach.”
He stood in pressed pants and a crisp shirt, looking like a clean-cut superhero. A bouquet of roses filled one slender hand. “I wanted to thank you for staying at the hospital all night, and I figured we should get some things straight.”
Her body stiffened in pure instinct. “Uh, what are you doing here?” She blinked. He hadn’t been released from the CDC.
He wiped a hand across his brow and shrugged. “My key card still works, and I just changed into doctor attire. Nobody expected me to leave, so nobody was watching.”
Well, hell. Good point. “You dropped by your place for fresh clothing?”
He glanced down at the ironed clothes. “Yes. I wanted to look good for you.”
Oh, shit. She shook her head. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
He lowered his chin. “I almost died last week.”
She swallowed. Was his brain going wonky? Had they missed something in the scans? “I know.”
“I think wasting time is a bad idea. Hell. This thing could still kill me.” He sighed.
She shook her head. Fear made her hands tremble. Could she get to her phone? “We won’t let that happen. We’ll figure out Scorpius. In the meantime, you just need to take care of yourself and be vigilant until we find the right antibiotic and vaccine.”
“Life is short, Nora,” he whispered.
Now that she knew. How could she get through to him? Blood roared through her head, making her dizzy. “I think maybe something is going on with you. How about we head into the lab and take a look at your scans?”
Zach stood close—too close—his gaze on her lips. “I know you are hesitant about us because you’re kind of my supervisor right now, but I’ve faced death, so we need to stop playing around. Enough is enough.” A young firmness entered his voice and gave her pause.
“Zach, let me help you.”
“I don’t need help.” In a surprisingly fast move, his hip hit hers, shoving her back into the apartment. He
shut the door.
Panic roared through her.
He grasped her arm. “Let’s discuss this rationally.”
Okay. This shouldn’t be happening, but it was, so she needed to deal, and now. “You’re having issues. Use your big brain and slow down.” She planted a hand against his chest. “Trust me.”
“It’s time you shut up and trusted me,” Zach hissed, his face contorting.
Holy shit. Who was this guy? His brain scans had been normal. What had they missed? Nora angled to the side. “Listen, Zach, something’s up with the way your brain is working. Let’s call Lynne and go take additional scans.”
He grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the hall closet. The flowers dropped.
The image of the red petals gliding down and scattering against the white tile skittered a chill down Nora’s back. Her breath caught. She hadn’t realized how tall Zach stood. Now as he looked down, his handsome features held a hardness she’d never seen on him.
“Pack a bag. We need to go discuss this somewhere we won’t be interrupted,” he said.
Possibilities flashed through her brain. She could fight, or she could flee. But maybe she could reason with him. An idea struck her. “Don’t you want to see what’s happening in your brain right now? You’re the most curious I person I’ve ever met.”
“No.” He cocked his head toward the living room. “Get packed.”
Her gaze slid to the side to where her cell phone sat on the kitchen counter.
“Don’t even think of calling the soldier. He’s not right for you.” Zach remained motionless.
Terror trickled through Nora’s gut. “Please let me help you.”
“No.” Zach’s calm expression didn’t twitch. “I thought I had time to court you right, but with Deke in the picture, we need to get a move on now.”
“I’m not leaving with you,” she snapped.
He smiled, and the once charming expression now held menace. “Oh, you are.”