Never Miss

by Melissa Koslin

  She contained the urge to roll her eyes again. “Then there’s . . .” She looked over at him.

  “Then there’s what?” He pulled into a gas station, stopped at a pump, and shifted into park.

  “You’re good-looking,” she said. “People don’t expect genius and gorgeous to go together.”

  He paused for a few seconds. Then he turned off the engine, got out of the car, and walked up to the store.

  “Reason fifteen people don’t understand you,” she said as she watched him walk away. “Zero reaction to being called gorgeous.” She laughed. Then she caught herself watching his masculine stride and how good he looked in jeans, and she made herself look away.

  He came back a few minutes later, got the gas pump going, and handed her a breakfast sandwich and a bottle of water. “Is this all right?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  He finished pumping and got in the car. “The clerk said there’s a library about two miles away.”

  They both ate quickly while he drove, and they pulled into the library a few minutes later. She gave Mac some food and water in bowls on the back seat and left a window partially down. Inside, Lyndon stopped at the front desk to inquire about computer access, and she started browsing a couple of specific sections of books. Hopefully, he wouldn’t take long—they needed to get back on the road.

  After about ten minutes, she walked over to the computer section to find Lyndon typing intently. He didn’t even use the mouse, just a steady stream of key input. He glanced at her but kept typing, not even a pause.

  “Be ready to go as soon as I’m done,” he said.

  She stood behind him and bent over to see his screen. She ignored how nice he smelled, even after driving all night. “You’re already in?” she whispered.

  His keying slowed, and he scanned page after page of type. “Almost done.”

  “Are you speed reading all that?”

  “I’m memorizing the pages. I’ll read it later.”

  She stared at him. And you wonder why people think you’re different? Though she knew he didn’t share things like this about himself with almost anyone else.

  She set the book in her hand down. She’d assumed she’d have a little more time to browse through it.

  He glanced at the book and then looked back at the screen. “Why were you reading that?”

  “To have some idea of what you’re talking about.”

  “I can explain whatever you want to know. Some of the books out there don’t get it all right.”

  “Are you still memorizing the type while talking to me?”

  “Yes.” He continued moving through page after page.

  Are you serious?

  “Done.” He rebooted the computer and stood from the chair. “Let’s go.”

  She stayed by his side out of the library and to the car.

  “Will you drive?” he asked.

  She took the key from him and got in the driver’s seat. While she headed back down the road and turned onto the on ramp for the freeway, he stared at the dash, though he didn’t look like he was seeing it.

  “Are you reading it now?” she asked. “Everything you memorized?”

  “Yes.”

  She quietly let him focus.

  “The book on infectious diseases you were reading,” he said. “Did you have any specific questions?”

  “Are you done reading?”

  “Not yet. Boring section.”

  “So, you want to answer my questions while you’re still reading text that you memorized?”

  He looked over at her. “This is why people don’t understand me, isn’t it?”

  She burst out laughing, and he smiled as he watched her. She couldn’t stop laughing for at least a mile.

  After about two miles, he said, “Okay, done. Do you want me to answer your infectious disease questions or tell you what I read?”

  “Do you realize how ridiculous what you just did is?”

  “You mean hacking into classified government computer systems?”

  “Let’s set that little tidbit to the side for a minute. Do you have any idea how smart you are?”

  “I think sometimes I don’t interact with other people enough and I forget what’s normal.”

  Her smile faded. “That I get.”

  “I think that’s why I like talking to you.” Then he went on, “I read the security plans for the State of the Union. I really need to study it more to find a possible weakness. I think I should draw it out.”

  “You memorized the layout of the House chamber, didn’t you?”

  “I’ll draw everything out, and you can analyze it. You’ll find security weaknesses much faster than I will.”

  “We should consider what this person is trying to accomplish. Do they just want chaos, or do they plan to take down the government? If they just want chaos or to make a statement, it won’t have to be as clean a strike. If they want to be sure to kill everyone there, it’ll need to be more precise.”

  “The question is, why would anyone want to cripple the government?”

  “They could be like those anti-government militia. But then, if they were militia, they wouldn’t have hired a different militia group.”

  “You have experience with foreign terrorists. Does this sound like anything you’ve seen or heard of?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t feel right.” She looked over at his expectant expression, surely in anticipation of clarification. “Though they were starting to dabble in chemical warfare, I never saw any group with anything so advanced as a super-virus, though I’ve been out of the game several years. But I don’t think this is a terrorist group from that region. I can’t give you a logical reason. It’s a gut thing.”

  His jaw tightened. She was starting to be able to read him—she didn’t think he was angry, but frustrated. She had a feeling he didn’t have gut reactions. Every decision went through his head, never his gut or heart.

  “Once we find the possible weak points,” she said, “what do you plan to do to secure those weaknesses? I doubt we can get anyone important to listen. The FBI and Secret Service get so many tips a week it’s ridiculous. Unless they have credible evidence of a possible breach, they aren’t likely to make any changes to a detailed, well-considered plan.”

  “It is detailed. I don’t immediately see any weaknesses, though I don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing.”

  “But you do pay attention to minute elements.”

  His gaze changed, unfocused.

  “What’re you considering?” she asked.

  “We’re going to the wrong place. We shouldn’t be headed to DC.”

  sixteen

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN we’re headed to the wrong place?” she asked. “Washington is where the State of the Union will be held.”

  He kept watching the road as he spoke. He’d been trying not to look at her, not since he’d made her laugh like that—really laugh. He hadn’t been sure she was capable of laughing like that anymore, not with everything she’d been through. It had affected him far too much. “We should go to the CDC in Atlanta.”

  She paused, obviously considering. “You want to get them activated and ready. Make sure they have equipment and personnel in Washington.”

  “That, and I want to see what kind of protocol they have in place for an outbreak of this kind.”

  “You don’t already know?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. She was right to guess he’d done extensive research on the subject, including information that wasn’t exactly public. “I would like to know the finer details and see if I can help prepare them.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to get access and talk to the people you need to? You don’t work for the CDC. Will they listen to you?”

  “I know someone who works there, director level, I believe.”

  “A former classmate?”

  “Yes.”

  “The jealous or arrogant type or a friend?”


  “We’ll see.”

  She paused for only a few more seconds. “Okay. When we get to Memphis, we should take I-22.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll trust you on this stuff, but you trust me when it’s time to.”

  He nodded. And he realized with a shock how much he did trust her. He hadn’t truly trusted anyone in years, not since his grandfather. For a moment, he worried his trust was rooted in his attraction to her, but he quickly put that worry aside. He’d never had trouble keeping his head straight around beautiful women. He decided his trust was due to her actions—she’d been both smart and selfless since they’d met. Yes, she’d pulled a gun on him shortly after saving his life, but now that he knew about her family, he understood she’d simply been trying to get him away from her for his own safety.

  “You look pretty focused,” she said. “Reading more memorized text?”

  He glanced over at her. “Just thinking.”

  “Tell me if your brain goes into overdrive again and you need to talk to calm it down.”

  He hesitated. “I’m surprised I haven’t had more issues during this drive.”

  “I thought you would. Maybe watching the scenery out the window helps?”

  “I think we’ve been talking enough.”

  “I slept for a while.”

  “Sometimes I go several days without talking to anyone.”

  “I get that. My record is something like two months.”

  He fought the urge to take her hand to comfort her. She’d been clear she didn’t want his contact, nor did she need his comfort. He turned his head to look out the window.

  “Except Mac,” she said. “Sometimes I talk to him like a person, like he understands me. I think I’ll turn into that guy in the movie on a deserted island.”

  “Where he talks to the volleyball.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But Mac talks back.” Lyndon turned and looked at Mac on the back seat. “Right?”

  Mac barked a meow.

  Lyndon turned to Kadance. “See?”

  “He does like to talk.” She looked in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you, buddy?”

  He answered with another meow.

  “That’s my boy.”

  “Are you sure he’s not a dog?”

  “Shh. You’ll offend him.”

  She said it with such a perfectly straight face, Lyndon cracked a smile. But then he looked out the side window and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

  By the time they made it into Atlanta, it was evening. The CDC office was closed. It was frustrating to have to wait. They picked up some food and found a cheap motel. While they had a decent amount of cash, they weren’t sure if they’d need a chunk of it for something more important, so they both agreed to share a room with double beds.

  They walked from the car to the exterior entrance of their first-floor room, and Kadance locked the door behind them. They ate their meal quickly and quietly, and Mac crunched at some fresh food.

  After Lyndon threw away his leftover food and the wrappers, he sat back down on his bed and ran his hands through his hair.

  “You’re frustrated to have to sit here tonight,” she said.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re getting a headache.”

  He wasn’t sure how she knew that, but he didn’t deny it. “It’s all right.”

  “Did I mention you’re a horrible liar?”

  “Once or twice.”

  She tossed her empty food wrapper in the trash. “You’ve been too quiet the last few hours, thinking too much, and now having to sit here and wait all night is going to mess you up.” She walked over and sat on the end of his bed. “We need you on all four cylinders tomorrow. Let’s talk about something random for a while.”

  He sat back against the headboard with his arms rested on his bent knees.

  “Just let me wash my hands first.” She stood and walked into the bathroom.

  A few minutes later, she came back out and sat back down on the end of his bed. She’d apparently decided to change her shirt as well, or maybe she’d worn the tank top under her usual big T-shirt. The tank top was fitted and cut lower than her T-shirt. Though it didn’t show any cleavage, it did show her curves. Her incredibly perfect curves—tiny waist and flat stomach combined with a full bust and tight backside. He avoided looking at her for fear his gaze would linger inappropriately.

  “What should we talk about?” she asked.

  He made himself look at her out of respect, and he noticed something at her waist, a sheathed knife. “The militia didn’t take that knife from you?”

  “Had a spare in my bag.”

  He focused more on the black handle with holes down the middle to help distract himself from the rest of her. “That’s not metal, is it?”

  She unsheathed it. The entire thing was one continuous material, all black, even the blade. “Polycarbonate.”

  “Won’t set off metal detectors.”

  “Always have it on me.” She slid it back into the sheath without even looking, as easy as snapping her fingers.

  He made the mistake of letting his gaze drift up over her waist and chest. He looked away. The combination of deadly and delicate affected him entirely too much.

  “Your headache is worse?” she asked.

  He knew he couldn’t get a lie past her. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Do you want me to get you some aspirin?”

  “No, thank you.” He tried to think of something to talk about. Anything. “What do you think the CDC security will be like?”

  She hesitated. “Probably a ton of electronic security—cameras and high-tech locks at minimum.”

  “Will cameras be a problem for you? Are CIA agents in a database like military?”

  “I’m not. My records are sealed—only about three people know I existed as a part of the agency. Not even my family knows. They think I was an army sniper.”

  He lifted his brows. “You weren’t supposed to tell me about your service.”

  “No.”

  “Why did you? You could’ve just warned me about your family coming after you. You didn’t have to tell me about the CIA.”

  “I wanted you to know what you were getting into.”

  He was just realizing he still didn’t fully understand what he was getting into with her. He lowered his voice. “I won’t betray your trust.”

  “I know.”

  He met her gaze for a few seconds, and he saw trust there—surely not as much trust as he felt for her, but earning any amount from her must be unusual.

  “Tell me what I need to know,” she said. “About infectious disease. Specifically, Ebola.”

  “The initial symptoms are fever, headache, weakness, stomach pain, joint and muscle aches.”

  “That sounds like the flu. I thought Ebola was a lot worse.”

  “It feels like the flu at the beginning. That’s part of the danger. People assume it’s just the flu and don’t seek treatment. That leads them to get much worse and also to infect other people.”

  “What’re the later symptoms?”

  “The virus kills cells, can even make them explode.”

  “It causes really bad bleeding, right?”

  “Bleeding from the eyes, ears, gums, nose, internal organs, as well as internal bleeding, which looks like severe bruising, and skin rashes. I’ve seen cases where the skin turns completely black and boils form. And then the organs fail.”

  “How contagious is it?”

  “It’s spread by physical contact either with an infected person or some infected surface. Or through animal bites or insect stings.”

  “From an infected surface. So, direct contact isn’t needed.”

  “No.”

  “That’s scary,” she said. “Can it be treated?”

  “Yes, but the death rate is around seventy percent, but that’s including developed nations. It’s much higher in underdeveloped areas, more like ninety percent.”<
br />
  “If it’s a super-virus, we’re thinking the strengths will be amplified, as well as the contagious aspect.”

  “I would think so, yes. If I were to engineer a virus with maximum death toll in mind, I’d make the gestation shorter, so that there would be less time to determine an effective treatment, and the contagious aspect much more acute.”

  “Do you think it’s possible to create a virus that can be contracted through air rather than physical touch?”

  “That’s one of my fears. It would be difficult, though. Based on my research, I think the next logical progression is transmission via water. It would be a more attainable goal than transmission via air. And more controllable.”

  “It’s one of the few ways they could hope to infect that many people at once.” Then she looked up and raised her brows. They both said at the same time, “Sprinkler system.”

  “Does the House chamber have a fire sprinkler system?” she asked.

  “Yes. Someone would need access to the fire riser to contaminate the water.”

  “And if it were me, I’d find a way to seal the doors, at least for a minute or so. Make sure no one gets out before the water hits them.”

  “I agree.”

  She sighed and leaned back on her elbows, which just accentuated her curves that much more. He couldn’t make it through the night like this.

  He stood and stepped over Mac on his way over to the thermostat. “I’m warm. Do you mind?”

  She shook her head.

  He cranked the air down. He was warm, and he also hoped the cool air would chill her and she’d cover up with a blanket. Thankfully, within ten minutes, she grabbed the spare blanket off the closet shelf and wrapped it around herself as she sat cross-legged on the end of the bed.

  “Tell me something,” she said. “Something not many other people know.”

  He suspected she’d feel more at ease after sharing so much with him if he shared more of himself. Certain things, though, he wasn’t ready to share with anyone. Certain things he didn’t want her in particular to know. “I grew up with my grandpa,” he said.

  “After your parents died.”

  “Even before. When they were on one of their trips, I’d stay with him.”

  “What was he like?”