“That cinnamon hot chocolate you make would be very nice,” she answered.
He moved to the cupboard and pulled two mugs from inside. “Hot chocolate coming right up.”
Simone moved into the family room and settled herself down on the sofa. It was still snowing, and a fire burned in the fireplace. She watched him as he warmed milk on the stove and added cocoa powder, sugar, cinnamon and cloves. Every so often he would look up at her and smile, the gesture making her heart sing. Paul always knew what she needed, and he was diligent about taking care of her. Too often she hadn’t shown him enough appreciation. She made a mental note to do better going forward.
When the cocoa mixture was just warm enough, he added a teaspoonful of vanilla extract and a shot of bourbon, then mixed it with an immersion blender until it was just the right amount of frothy. Nina was still singing softly in the background.
Paul joined her on the sofa, a hint of steam billowing off two oversize mugs. He had topped both with a swirl of whipped cream and a Pirouline dark-chocolate wafer cookie. Simone wrapped both hands around the mug to warm them.
“This smells divine!” Simone said as she inhaled the sweet aroma. “I’ve missed your hot chocolate.”
“More than you missed me?”
Simone lifted her eyes to meet his. Amusement danced in his gaze as he stared at her. Her lips parted slightly and curled into the faintest smile. “I don’t think I need to quantify how much I missed you, although it probably isn’t nearly as much as you missed me.”
Paul chuckled. “So, are you ready to tell me what was bothering you earlier?”
Simone sighed, a low gust of warm breath blowing past her lips. “Where do I start? The fact that so much has happened with you since we broke up that I feel like I’ve missed out? Or that if you decide to move to Morocco you wouldn’t ask me to go with you? Because everything has had me in my feelings and despite my best efforts not to let it get to me, it got to me.”
“I get it. I was feeling the same way. Here you are considering a major employment change and I haven’t been there to help you make the decision and might not be there to celebrate with you when you do.”
“Are we doomed to fail, Paul? Is our loving each other just not enough?”
“We are doomed to fail if neither of us is willing to compromise. I can’t have everything I want if you don’t get everything you want. It just won’t work if we aren’t each willing to give up as much as we give. If we’re not willing to sacrifice as much as we gain.”
“You make it sound so pragmatic.”
“Not at all. I just know relationships don’t work when they’re one-sided.”
“Are you saying I’m to blame for our not working? Because I wasn’t willing to compromise?”
“I’m saying we’re both to blame. Let’s be honest, Simone...” He leaned forward and dropped his mug on the coffee table. “You are spoiled, sometimes mean, and convinced the sun should rise and set on your timetable.”
She laughed. “I am not that bad!”
“Yes, you are! But I am equally as stubborn, occasionally self-absorbed, and too dismissive of the important things. Neither of us was willing to bend and it broke us. If we decide to try this again, we both have to make changes.”
“So, you won’t go to Morocco?”
“Or you’ll go with me.”
Simone shifted in her seat, adding her cup to the table with his. She turned her body until she was leaning against him, nuzzling her back to his chest, Paul wrapping his arms tightly around her torso. He kicked off his shoes and swung his legs up onto the sofa, reclining back against the pillows. The move pulled her alongside him, the duo stretching out until she lay comfortably in his arms. He pulled her closer with one hand and reached for a wool blanket with the other. They snuggled close together beneath the covering, staring into the fire to watch the flames dance.
Simone suddenly clutched the hem of his sweatshirt with a tight fist. She shifted and turned to nuzzle her face against his chest and took a deep breath to inhale his rugged scent.
“I want us to work,” Simone whispered, tightening the grip she had on his shirt. “I need us to work, Paul.”
Paul nodded. He slid a firm hand beneath her chin and lifted her face till she was staring up at him. There was a tear clinging to his eyelash and it rolled down his face, landing on his shirt. “So do I, Simone. Because I love you, and not that I need to quantify it, but I love you as much as I know you love me. Maybe even more!” His smile pulled full and wide across his face.
Simone’s eyes skated back and forth across his face, as she felt her own smile become as magnanimous as his. She lifted herself up until her mouth met his in the sweetest kiss, flesh gliding like silk across satin. His hand slid into her hair, pressing against the back of her head. Their connection deepened as the kiss became frenzied. Heat surged like a firestorm between them, tongues darting past parted lips. The moment was surreal as both allowed themselves to fall into the beauty of it. Outside, snow dusted the landscape, oblivious to the flames that continued to tango inside, embers doing a delicate two-step in raging shades of red and orange.
Chapter 8
Paul reached across the bed to pull Simone against him but came up empty-handed. He opened one eye and found her side of the bed vacant. A loud groan echoed around the room. His morning erection pressed against the mattress for attention then deflated rapidly. He turned and reached across the nightstand for his wristwatch. With no idea of the time, he jumped when he realized he’d slept past his eight-o’clock alarm.
They’d made love for hours, moving from the living room sofa to the bedroom. The fire had died down and the temperature in the room had cooled substantially. But neither had noticed, the heat between them so intense he thought they might combust. Her kiss had been like a lit match, igniting the fervor that had been simmering between them. His hands against her warm skin had been a fantasy come true and when she’d parted her legs and welcomed him home, he’d been no more good.
Pulling himself upright he threw his legs off the side of the bed, his feet brushing against the carpeted floor. He wiped a hand across his face, then stretched his arms upward. He called Simone’s name, but she didn’t answer. Rising from the bedside, he moved into the bathroom to relieve himself. After a quick shower and shave, he dressed, then went searching for her.
Simone sat at the dining room table, poring through the documents he’d piled against the hardwood top. She was re-sorting each pile, seeming determined to make sense of it all. The sight of her sent a shiver of energy coursing up the length of Paul’s spine. Her determination gleamed across her face and he was happy to have her on his side. She looked up, greeting him warmly as he moved to her side and kissed her lips.
“Good morning! The muffins just came out of the oven and the coffee is still hot. Do you want eggs and bacon? Oliver left the kitchen fully stocked.”
Paul shook his head. “Coffee’s good for now. How long have you been up?”
“Since that darn alarm of yours went off. Then I couldn’t get back to sleep. Figured I’d come work on our problem.”
Paul moved to the kitchen to fill a mug with morning brew. “Have you found anything?” he asked as he stirred cream and sugar into his cup. He moved back to the formal dining room and sat down in the seat beside her. He took one sip and then another, allowing the first effects of caffeine to take hold.
“I have, actually. I had a very enlightening conversation with my soror.”
“Which one?”
“Jillian Tanner.”
“Isn’t her father head of Tanner Insurance?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, he is, and Jillian works for the FDA. What do you know about a drug called Phenylzeranol?”
Paul took another sip of his beverage as he paused in reflection. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
“That might be because it was one of Lender’s first products, but it was banned here in the United States by the FDA. Since then Lender has had twenty-seven other drugs banned by the government. According to what I discovered, the Food and Drug Administration had sent Lender numerous letters condemning their unsafe manufacturing protocols. They were warned that Phenylzeranol put patients at serious risk for harm.”
“Do you know what it was prescribed for?”
“High blood pressure. But it was found to cause liver and blood cell damage, as well as damage to other internal organs.”
“And this was how long ago?”
“Just over fifteen years ago. Apparently, a separate investigation found that there were significant violations at their manufacturing plants in India. Several drugs were found to be contaminated with cardboard and other multiple foreign particles. Lender was then taken to task for failing to respond appropriately to the incidents.”
Simone took a sip from her own coffee cup, then continued. “They claimed they launched an investigation but then they closed the inquiry without fully reviewing the extent of the problem or taking any further action.”
“So, they didn’t do anything at all?”
“Well, evidently after a lot of pressure, they eventually recalled the entire lot of contaminated drugs, but that was almost eight months after receiving the initial complaint.”
“So, did they destroy them?”
“No. They shipped them overseas and sold them through a distributor that’s not bound by FDA regulations.”
Paul stared at the document Simone handed him. “What’s this?”
“Remember the three drugs you said never made it to sales and distribution?”
He shifted forward in his seat. “Yes. What about them?”
“All three failed FDA standards and were banned. Their lab tests showed a blatant pattern of disregard, where technicians were regularly deleting any negative test results, then retesting them without bothering to identify how and why the original contamination occurred. There were even problems with drugs the FDA did approve, but because their inspectors don’t do any additional tests for purity once those drugs come into the US, they weren’t caught until a complaint had been lodged.”
“So, Halphedrone-B slipped past the inspectors?”
“I think so. And between what I learned from Jillian and what I’ve been able to make sense from the documents Liza printed for you, I think Halphedrone-B may actually be one of the same drugs that was previously banned.”
“How can that...”
“I don’t know,” Simone said, “but if I’m right, Lender has been purposely acting with malicious intent, with full knowledge of their wrongdoing. Jillian explained that the FDA is supposed to inspect all factories, foreign and domestic, that produce drugs for the US market. But there are literally thousands of documents, from inspection records to lawsuits, detailing the ways poorly manufactured or contaminated drugs reach consumers. How inspectors miss serious hazards, or drug makers fail to meet standards even after the FDA has taken enforcement action. She said there are hundreds of plants that haven’t been inspected for years, if ever. And many inspections are stage-managed so that factories ensure they pass on the day of their review appointments but fall back into disarray the minute the inspectors leave.”
“So, more times than not, any bacteria is detected only after an outbreak of disease.”
“Or when people like you start asking questions and digging for answers.”
“Medical sleuthing for dummies.”
Simone laughed. “And Lender has a list of infractions that’s miles long!”
“So, what now? Because I know I can make the case that their drug has poisoned patients.”
“Which is a big question. Can you?”
Paul reached for a folder from inside the briefcase that rested on the floor. He passed it to Simone, who eyed it curiously. “That is a list of patients I’ve treated in the past five years who have died on my watch. The numbers abroad are almost triple that of the numbers here. More than seventy percent of my patients in Africa had been prescribed Halphedrone-B. I’ve only prescribed it to seven patients in the past year in Chicago. The last one died last week while I was still abroad. He had just turned seven years old. The autopsy shows he died from pneumonia. They’ve all died from pneumonia-related issues.”
Paul took a deep breath and seemed to hold it as his comment settled between them. Simone could see the frustration in his gaze. He was conflicted at not having been able to do more and feeling whole-heartedly responsible. The hurt on his face fractured a sliver of her heart.
“Pneumonia caused by the bacteria in the medication that was supposed to make them better.”
“I’d bet my life on it. I’ve been tracking the stats for a while now trying to make sense of what was happening and the only common denominator in all my cases was Halphedrone-B.”
“So, we continue to connect the dots by detailing what we know and then we hit them where it’s going to hurt the most. We go after their profits with a class-action lawsuit.”
“That may take forever.”
“The lawsuit, yes, but once we file, we also file a formal complaint with the FDA and go public with what we can prove and if nothing else, get the drugs off the market. We’ll need to work out the details, but it’s a start.”
Paul leaned to kiss her again. “Did I tell you how much I love you?”
“Tell me again.”
“I love you, Simone Black,” he repeated, kissing her a second time.
“I love you, too. Now where can a girl find a computer around here?”
* * *
For the next three days, Paul lost hours of time, locked in the lab with the samples he’d been studying since he got there. He’d been running the same tests over, and over again, hoping against all odds that the results might be different, and he might be wrong. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was having a hard time accepting that anyone would purposely hurt sick patients just for the sake of a profit.
When he thought of his patients in the rural communities where he volunteered, he became enraged. They were already facing enough challenges without adding distrust of the medical professionals who were supposed to help.
Before he’d gotten lost in the research, he had spent a few good hours on the phone with one of his colleagues in Ghana, telling her what to test for in the patients who were still suffering and prescribing alternate medications to treat them. He had also asked her to ship him samples of the drugs they had on hand and she’d promised to get them in the mail as promptly as possible. He hoped, against all odds, that they would make it to him.
When his stomach grumbled for attention he sat back in his chair. He hadn’t heard a peep from Simone since their morning conversation over coffee. Morning coffee had become a ritual, a few quiet minutes before their focus shifted from each other to something else. She, too, had become obsessed with making his problem go away. He couldn’t begin to express how much he appreciated her efforts. He had no doubts that if Simone wasn’t there to fight the good fight with him, he’d be completely lost. She challenged him, helped him to take the emotion out of the facts and pushed him to consider every possible aspect of the case. She centered him and he whispered a prayer of thanks daily for her being in his life.
Rising, he put the equipment away and began to clean, making sure to maintain the integrity and safety of the lab environment. When he was finished, he tossed his rubber gloves, slid off his glasses, pulled on his jacket and headed back to the house. The temperature was starting to drop, the air chilling quickly. The sun had been lost behind a host of clouds for most of the day and the sky was just beginning to darken.
As he walked through the door, the home phone suddenly rang and he turned to stare at the device that hung on the kitchen wall. It was the ninth or tenth call that day.
Simone had answered the first and the second and there had been no one on the other end. By calls four, five, and six, he had turned the ringer to low and they let them go to the answering machine, no one leaving a message. It was concerning and neither thought it accidental. It didn’t leave them that they were there because someone had shot at them just a week or so earlier. In the back of their minds both were acutely aware that there was danger still very present in their lives. Whether or not it had found them was still debatable. What they agreed on was pushing past the fear and not allowing it to cripple them. He took a deep inhale and moved toward the dining room.
Inside, Simone was still working, having commandeered a corner of the dining room table and his laptop. There were pages of documents taped to one wall and the floor was littered with balls of crumbled paper. She was alternately typing and scrolling through her cell phone. There was a look of determination across her face and her cheeks were flushed. She bit down against her bottom lip as her eyes darted back and forth across her work. Watching her made him smile. She suddenly looked up, slightly surprised to see him standing there eyeing her.
“Hey! Everything okay?”
Paul smiled. “I was just thinking how beautiful you are.”
Simone felt herself blush ever so slightly, her cheeks warming with color. “Thank you,” she said, her voice dropping an octave.
“Why don’t we take a break? I think we need a change of scenery and I’m tired of baloney sandwiches. I’m starving and I thought we could go get something to eat. There’s a wonderful Italian restaurant not far from here that I think you’ll like. They have the best Bolognese sauce that I’ve ever tasted.”
Simone pursed her lips, her eyes widening. “You’re talking my language now! You silver-tongued devil, you!”
Paul eased slowly to her side. “Rigatoni in vodka sauce, fettuccine Alfredo, manicotti.” His voice was a loud whisper, low and seductive, his words coming as if he was doing the voice-over for a commercial.
Simone gasped. “Yes! Oh, yes!” She began to pant in jest, her head rolling back as she clutched the front of her sweater. “Talk dirty to me, Daddy!”
Reunited By The Badge (To Serve & Seduce Book 3) Page 9
