Eden didn’t know what to think. Sitting in front of her was the answer to all the prayers she’d never even dared make. A solution to everything she wanted—a way to help Mitch and the others and to stop the war with The Clinic altogether.
Before anyone else had to die.
“It’s a lot to think about, I know.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “But…I need to know how you did it—how you were able to combine your two sides.”
“I didn’t do anything. It just happened.”
His expression soured. But if he didn’t believe her, there was nothing she could do to make him and, honestly, she didn’t care enough to worry about it.
“Nothing?” he asked. “Nothing over-the-counter or spiritual or—”
“Nothing. Unless the guards knocked something loose while they were beating or kidnapping me. You could ask them…if any of them are still alive.” Nothing he could say changed the fact that he’d worked for The Clinic long enough to know what he was part of. “So this big coup you’re planning... How would I be involved?”
His sigh held as much frustration as she felt. “I give you names, you…dispose of them. Without exposing the project, of course.”
“Why would I agree to that?” A red flag started waving in her mind, coloring her vision. Her muscles tightened as if they were trying to create a wall the idea couldn’t get through.
“Because it’s the only way I’ll get the top spot. And once I have that, you and yours get your freedom and all the answers you want.”
Even though she felt like a loaded gun most of the time, she wasn’t one. She’d never purposefully killed anyone. She’d told herself she would do anything to save Mitch, but to assassinate people? Even her enemies…
What would that do to what was left of her?
“Want a soda? Fries?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just plopped a bomb in her lap and told her she had eight seconds to defuse it. He went to the counter without waiting for an answer.
She needed Landon—talking to him would bring her back into focus and help her look for holes in what Ryan said. But a discussion would have to wait until she had more privacy.
So she texted: ‘Need U 2 check out employee. Ryan’…
Shit, what was his last name? With so much junk clouding her mind, things weren’t where they were supposed to be.
…‘Whittle? Whitely? Something w/ a W. First name’s right tho.’
Ryan was walking back to the table holding a tray.
‘Text me when U know. W/ him now. Hurry.’
§§§
Landon stared at the text for another minute. How the hell am I supposed to look up someone if she doesn’t know his last name? Great, he would cut the meeting with Danielle short and then come up with an excuse as to why he was eight hours early for work. Just so he could check the personnel files for someone named Ryan Something-That–Begins-With-a-W.
“Very helpful.” Shaking his head, he walked into the restaurant and saw Danielle at a table near the back.
“You should try the peach cobbler.” She pulled the plate closer to herself. “But not this peach cobbler ‘cause it’s all mine.” Her smile created a crack from one side of his armor to the other. There was too much honesty in it.
Turner used sarcasm and insults to distance himself from the world. Landon stayed numb. And both had spent years doing it well. Until a woman found a way inside. Eden was Turner’s reason for being and also his greatest weakness. Just like Tara had been for Landon—introducing him to a fight that took over his life even after she was no longer a part of it.
Now Danielle was the distraction. Maybe he was being an idiot. Maybe she was playing him. Or maybe he could have another shot at something good.
What the hell, idiot? You’ve known her for less than twenty-four hours and you’re already picking out China and invitations. There was definitely some desperation going on around here. Sleep deprivation. Yeah, blame that.
“How’d you do?” he asked her, shaking off the bullshit and replacing it with something useful.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of papers. “Both the accounting and the shipping departments should really upgrade their firewalls.”
“Thank you for doing this.”
“I love what I do and am proud of what I’ve accomplished. Plus I’m territorial,” she said smiling. “I didn’t find anything too impressive though.”
“Sometimes another set of eyes can see something yours missed.” He motioned to the file.
“They’re copies of the shipment receipts,” she said, handing them over. “Supplies that went from our lab to a PO Box in Florida and the reverse. But the contents listed aren’t right. An accountant might not question it, but a paranoid pharmacologist who has spent almost a decade of her life on something that might’ve been in the shipment would.”
He flipped through the pages, looking for patterns or repeated signatures. “There are a lot of them.”
“The weight’s off for what is written down on most of the invoices. And when I asked my coworkers if they’d done anything with the GU-121—”
His head popped up. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Calm down. I know how to be subtle.”
“You shouldn’t have.” He cringed inwardly when she held her hands up in submission. Like a perp with a gun pointed at their head. Shit. He softened his tone. “I didn’t mean to…I can’t have you thinking this is a game.”
“I know it isn’t. And I won’t do it again. But I did, and none of them knew anything about it. So I think it was in one of those shipments to Florida. But, frankly, that’s a huge jump, and I have absolutely no proof I’m right.”
He could have told her she was right—that the files he’d found were filled with references to her drug. But that might put her in more danger than he’d already put her in, and that was something he wouldn’t do.
“You shouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone, Danielle. Until we know who’s doing what, you can’t trust anyone.”
She flinched at the intensity of his voice. “Except you.”
“Yeah. Except me.” Liar. He dropped his gaze to the papers. He’d have to check out the names of everyone who signed for a package. “Thanks, this helps a lot. But now you’re out, and I’ll handle it from here. Understand?”
“So I guess I should thank you too, huh?”
“Why would you—?” He looked up and saw her eyes warm, fill with trust. While on the force, he saw that look a lot—from victims’ families or from abused kids after he told them they would be safe.
He’d loved his job, but he wasn’t a hero, and things rarely worked out the way he wanted them to. Regardless of what he did, some of them wouldn’t be saved. So he kept his distance. Because if he didn’t, he’d be no good to anyone.
Saying ‘you’re welcome’ didn’t mean you let them anywhere near your soul.
He should leave now, walk away from that look and everything behind it. But he couldn’t. Not quite yet. Because with Danielle, he felt awkward, uncomfortable, and connected in a way that shouldn’t be. He wanted to let her in.
But the risk was too high. If he brought her any further into his life, she would get hurt. Not the emotional kind of hurt that makes you feel like you’re dying but diminishes over time. This would be the physical kind that no one ever comes back from.
Chapter XXI
“Can I get you anything, hon?” The waitress’s question registered in Landon’s mind a few seconds later.
“Coffee. Thanks.” Maybe the caffeine would clear up his thinking.
“None of this makes sense,” Danielle said, having no idea that the man in front of her was on the edge of an incredibly ill-timed emotional breakdown. “It’s as if Florida is in an alternative dimension—supplies and money disappear and reappear at the state line.”
He cared far, far less about the gateway to hell as he did about who the gatekeeper was. “Who ultimately decides which of the
Malvers labs gets what?”
“Officially the Board does. Unofficially, and possibly without their knowledge, Whittley does.”
A twinge of unease went through him. “Who’s Whittley?”
“The big boss. Although I don’t think that’s what’s actually written on his office door.” Her smile drooped and then was gone. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” He gripped his pants under the table. Whittley was the ghost they were looking for. A man who understood that claiming the highest position means he’d be the one people would aim for. “What’s his first name?”
“Ryan, I think. Why?”
He wanted to scream obscenities, but there wasn’t time for that. “I need to go.” He slid out of the booth and tossed some cash on the table.
“No, you need to tell me what’s going on.” The trust he’d seen in her eyes earlier was gone.
“I can’t.”
Danielle followed him into the parking lot. “What’s happening?”
“I’ll call you later,” he called. “I have to check on something. But thanks, you helped a lot.” He dialed Eden’s number as he moved. The call went straight to voice mail. “I should staple that phone to her ear.” He unlocked the car and pressed redial at the same time, wondering what the hell he was going to do, where Eden could be, and how many ways this was going wrong. When he threw the car into reverse, the passenger door opened and Danielle slid inside.
“Get out of the car.”
She glared at him and put on her seatbelt.
“This isn’t a joke, Danielle. These are dangerous people.”
“You can tell me about it on the way to wherever we’re going.”
He was seething, torn between needing to go and not being able to until she got out of the frigging car. “Since you don’t watch TV, I’ll break it down for you. This is one of those situations where the beautiful scientist is getting in way over her head and will end up very, very hurt.”
“Those are actors.”
“Not on ‘Cops’.”
“So drop me off a few blocks away. But until then, tell me what I’m involved in. What you got me involved in.”
Did he owe her the truth? Probably. Did he have time to talk her out of getting more involved? Not really. Did he have the heart to shove her out of the car? No.
After he backed out of the spot, he slammed the gear-shift to D. But he wasn’t driving the car, he was making it fly. “You stay where I drop you. Got it?”
She gripped the door. “I have two PhDs, was at the top of my class for my entire scholastic career, and am pretty hot shit, Nick. So please don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
“I’ll have to take your word on most of that, but I know you’re hot shit first-hand. What I don’t know is if you understand the shit you stepped into when you got in this car.”
“I’m not looking for trouble and will stay out of the way. I just want to know the truth. And I promise to keep my shirt on.” When he looked at her confused, she shrugged. “No one ever wears a shirt on ‘Cops’.”
“So you do watch TV.”
“Only cop shows. I have a thing for police officers.”
“Of course you do,” he muttered.
How pissed was Mitch going to be when he woke up? Probably somewhere between ‘insanely’ and ‘homicidally’. Not that it mattered—Landon needed help, and he needed it from the person who knew Eden best.
He drove in silence, glancing at Danielle occasionally—every time he turned right or left…or went straight. And she stared back, twisting in her seat to face him. He knew the questions would start any minute, so he used the time to come up with an excuse of why he couldn’t answer any of them.
Finally, she spoke. “Oh, that makes so much sense, Nick. Thanks for telling me everything.”
“I can’t tell you everything,” he said tightly.
“You have a tongue and vocal cords, therefore you can. So why won’t you?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“For whom?”
“Everyone.”
“I’m already involved. You made me involved. So it would be nice to know if I can go back to work and pretend nothing happened or if I should get out of town for a while.”
“The latter is probably the better option.”
Her frustration matched his. “If this is about GU-121, I’m the best help you could have. I know it and most of the other pharmaceuticals Malvers is developing. You could use me as a consultant.”
“Why do you want in on this? Why not just leave it alone?”
“I discovered GU-121, regardless of what anyone else claims. It’s mine but I can’t prove it and, if it went to Florida, I want to know.”
“You want to be a consultant? Then tell me everything you know about Whittley.”
She slammed her fist against the door. “I knew it! He’s the one, right? He’s the one who’s stealing it and shipping it out. Does he have a deal going with Bradford?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because administrators aren’t interested in drugs that are years and years away from launch. They don’t care what the side effects are until we’re further along in development. But Whittley does. He asks in different ways, but every question centers around one thing—how each compound’s half-life can be extended.”
“Is there a way to extend the half-life?”
She leaned back in her seat but didn’t say anything. Obviously, asking the same question as Whittley had spooked her. But he couldn’t take it back and he needed to know the answer.
“Let me out.” Her tone had the quiet intensity of someone who’d just found out they’d been duped.
“Let me find a café or something.” He’d planned on dropping her off anyway, but not in the middle of nowhere.
“Let me out now!”
He grabbed her arm just before she reached the steering wheel. When she cried out in pain, he let go.
“Do you want to kill us? Jesus.” He pulled over to the side of the road. “Let me take you somewhere safer.”
“Now you’re worried about me? I didn’t think liars did that.” She didn’t realize she was still buckled in until her door was open and the seatbelt yanked her back against her seat. It locked down as if they’d just hit a wall, protecting her from herself. Unable to twist or bend or calm down, she fumbled with the release button.
Landon put his hands over hers. “Let me help.”
“Stupid…” She didn’t stop struggling, her words breaking up with agitation, panic, and frustration. “I can’t even press a stupid button!”
“The more you fight, the tighter it gets. So relax. And remember that I didn’t force you to come along—you forced me to bring you.”
She took a breath and pressed into her seat, creating a tiny bit of slack. Tears filled her eyes. “I know. But now I’m stuck in this stupid car with this stupid belt, and I feel like an idiot.”
“It’s not you, it’s the car. Until now, the seatbelts were the only things that did work.”
“You lied to me,” she said quietly. “You used me to do something illegal or unethical.” Her body slumped. “Is it too late for me to get out of this?” She wasn’t talking about the seatbelt.
“I’m not… I’m not a bad guy.”
Her glare would’ve knocked him backwards if he’d been standing. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word on it.”
He should release her and let her go. But facts are facts and what she’d said was true—she might be able to help. Allies were past impossible to come by, especially ones with her expertise. If she knew all there was to know about GU-121, then maybe she could help Turner. He sure couldn’t help himself, Eden was constantly creating or finding trouble, and Landon was going to kill someone—possibly himself—if things didn’t improve soon.
But he wouldn’t take Danielle’s choice away from her. Not any more than he already had. “I’d like to take you somewhere safer, but it’s your decision.” He
unclipped her belt.
She didn’t run. “What’s this all about, Nick?”
“If you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, the price will be very, very high. Do you understand? I don’t know which direction it will come from, and I may not be there to protect you. So”—he took a breath—“with all that good news in mind, you have one more chance to walk away.” He looked at her expectantly, hoping she took the out.
“Talk.”
Damn it. “Put your belt back on because we need to be somewhere. I’ll explain along the way. Feel free to jump out whenever you’ve heard enough.” The fall would be a lot easier than what was coming.
So he talked. About the Florida facility, what The Clinic was doing with her drug and others, who they were doing it to. He didn’t look at her—he just drove and spoke as if he was talking to himself. Over the next ten minutes or so, he brought her into his world. A dark world filled with pain, uncertainty, and danger. One she wouldn’t be able to leave until the storm was over, if it ever would be. And he wasn’t strong enough to look her in the eyes as he did it.
She didn’t scream or hit him. She didn’t even burst into tears.
“So,” he said, badly in need of a drink, “any questions, doctor?”
“No.”
Didn’t expect that. Of all the things he thought she might say, ‘no’ wasn’t one of them. “Were you listening?”
“I heard every word, other than a few you mumbled.” Her tone was scalpel-sharp. “And maybe some of those were believable. But the rest of it was highly entertaining, and incredibly insulting. Unless you’re crazy. So…are you crazy or creative, Nick?”
Yeah, that was more of what he expected. It was also hurtful—it had been a long time since someone accused him of lying…when he wasn’t.
“I’ll prove it,” he said.
“Really? How? Are you going to pull a monster out of your pocket? Or maybe you have before-and-after pictures of the woman’s eyes. Because that would totally convince me.”