by Lisa Harris
She’d picked up a shattered frame off the floor and held it against her. “It’s the last photo I have of my father and me. Why did they go through my stuff? Did they think I’d hide a deadly virus beneath the sofa cushions?”
“Rachel—”
Her gaze shifted, and the color drained from her face. She bent and picked up another photo. It appeared as if someone had ripped away whoever had been standing beside a grown-up Rachel on the beach. “They know about my brother and his family.”
He nodded, the decision made. Like it or not, there was only one option.
“I know who can help us.” He glanced at the door. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Eight
Rachel stepped out into the freezing night then glanced back at her townhouse one last time. For the sake of her brother and his family, she had no choice but to trust this man she’d met only a couple of hours ago. She threw her small carry-on into the back seat then blindly climbed inside. Aiden crowded in next to her, his close proximity strangely comforting despite her reluctance to continue with him and his dangerous quest to protect this deadly virus. She’d never forgive herself if her foolish professional crush on a virus hunter brought harm to her brother and his family.
Aiden ignored the driver’s question as to where they wanted to go. Instead, he told the man he’d dole out verbal directions as they went along, directions that he wanted followed to a T. They stayed off the main thoroughfares and zipped down side streets and alleys like they were in some kind of movie chase scene.
Thirty minutes later, and with more questions than answers tumbling about in her frantic thoughts, Rachel heard Aiden instruct their driver to let them out under the sail-shaped porte cochère of the Watergate Hotel. The iconic building, which had been closed for over a decade, had undergone a major renovation. Modern lights artfully lit up the home of the 1970s scandal that had brought down a president.
“We’re going to get help here?” she asked.
“This is where I’m staying.”
“This is quite a hotel.” She dragged her suitcase with its missing wheel across the gleaming black floors of the lobby, feeling suddenly out of place.
“I was going more for discretion than location when I booked.”
Rachel had considered taking a tour of this hotel when it first reopened. She’d read that the scandal room from the 1972 political break-in had been redecorated with Nixon-era memorabilia, including a manual typewriter and a reel-to-reel tape recorder. She was pondering how often and why Aiden came to DC when one of the two men behind the expansive concierge’s desk looked up.
He smiled as if he recognized Aiden and said, “Good evening, Mr. Darlington.”
Aiden tucked the cooler under his arm. “Anyone ask for me, Romano?”
“Not on my shift, sir,” Romano said.
Aiden took Rachel’s elbow and hurried her to the elevator. “Let’s hope we’re still a step ahead of whoever wants this virus.”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “Mr. Darlington?”
Aiden shrugged. “I was paranoid when I got here and didn’t want anyone to be able to track me down. Now I’m glad I was.”
“Is that the reason for the flip phone as well?”
“Yep.”
“I work with dangerous viruses every day, but I’ve never had a need to change my name.”
“If it keeps us safe. . .”
The elevator dinged and Aiden stepped into a quiet hallway of the top floor. Rachel hesitated. Who was this man? Since she’d met him, she’d found blood in her boss’s office, she’d been chased and shot at, her phone had been destroyed, her home ransacked, and now her brother’s life could be threatened. If she followed Aiden to one of the suites and there was more trouble, she couldn’t even phone for help. Which is what she should have done back at Dr. Moreno’s office. But if she backed out now, she would be on her own and she wouldn’t know how to begin to secure her brother’s safety.
Aiden signaled for her to stop in front of the Do Not Disturb sign. “Better stand back.”
He slid his electronic key into the lock and cautiously pushed the door open. He stepped into the dark room and ambient lighting came on. Lavish finishes and sleek furniture filled the one-bedroom executive suite, but the thing that caught Rachel’s eye was the floor-to-ceiling windows and the sweeping view of the Potomac River.
“No one’s been in here,” he said, sounding relieved.
“I’m turning on the TV to see if there’s any news from the lab.” Rachel clicked the remote, and a breaking news story about a body discovered in a research lab parking garage flashed on the huge flat screen. No name was mentioned, but the sick feeling in her gut confirmed the fears growing faster than the virus in monkey cells.
“Aiden. . .It has to be Moreno.” She sat down on the end of the bed, her hands trembling as she set the remote down next to her. Nate Shepherd had ended up in a canal, and now they’d gotten to Moreno? How long before they found them?
Aiden sat down next to her as a woman reported the story from outside the lab with nothing more than a handful of sketchy details.
We need answers, God. We need to know who’s behind this.
“We should call Dr. Moreno’s wife,” she said. “Find out what she knows.”
Aiden shook his head. “We can’t take a chance of whoever’s behind this tracing us through her phone, and I don’t want to risk putting her life in any more danger. If it’s him, she’ll be there with the authorities.”
Aiden went to a built-in cabinet, opened the door, and punched in the code on the in-room safe. She watched as he pulled out a wad of cash and two passports then picked up the house phone. He dialed a number and told the person on the other end to have the plane ready.
“A plane?” Rachel whispered.
“I booked a charter.”
“A charter?” Rachel stammered as dollar signs whirled in her head. “How much will that cost?”
“We’re covered.”
“By whom?”
“You have just enough time to change into something dry and call your family,” he said, ignoring her question. “We leave from Reagan International in an hour. It’s less than fifteen minutes from here, so that should give us time to get through security,” he said, ignoring her question.
“Where are we going?”
“To the one man who can help us sort this out.” Aiden threw his personal items into a backpack, stuffed the money and passports in a side pocket, then grabbed the cooler. “Let’s go.”
An hour later, they were the only two passengers buckled into the plush leather seats of a private jet. “We’ll change planes in Miami,” Aiden told her once they were airborne.
“Wait a minute. . .” She shifted toward him in her seat. “Where do your parents live?”
“It’s out of the country.”
She unclicked her seat belt, feeling the panic returning. “We’re leaving the country?”
“Rachel, sit down. Please.”
“Are they expecting us?”
He nodded. “I sent a message.”
She looked around the cabin. Outside the window, the lights of DC were tiny dots. Since she didn’t have a parachute, she had no choice but to drop back into her seat. “When you said your parents could help, I was thinking we were going to some house in the suburbs, or downtown loft, but out of the US?”
“It’s the safest thing for now.” He poured her a cup of the hot tea he’d ordered from the only flight attendant on the plane. “My mom will be happy I’ve finally brought a girl home.” He smiled and handed her the cup.
If he was trying to lighten the mood and convince her to release her death grip on the armrests, his approach wasn’t working. “Where, exactly, do your parents live?”
“It’s a remote location. Drink.”
Rachel took the mug. The floral-scented concoction enticed her to take a long sip. “Someone needs to know what happened to us tonight. What could happen if we don’t handle this
right.”
“Look, I know this all seems crazy, but you’re going to have to trust me.” Aiden undid his seat belt. He stood and retrieved a pillow and a blanket from a tiny closet. “Try to get some rest. We’ll figure this out. Okay?”
Rachel took the bedding, not because she enjoyed being told what to do, but because her ebbing adrenaline was already giving way to the sheer exhaustion pressing down on her. And being wrapped in a blanket seemed like it would somehow make her feel less exposed. Besides, she needed clear-headed thinking to untangle the mess she’d made when she allowed a stranger, no matter how charming, access to a secret, high-level biocontainment research lab. Even more foolish was the undeniable fact that she’d let this same man talk her out of calling the police when they found blood in Dr. Moreno’s office. Whether or not she could be considered an accomplice to tonight’s long list of questionable activities was nothing compared to agreeing to follow a man she knew only from his social media posts aboard a sleek jet bound for who knew where. Truth was, foolish as all of this sounded, she had no other way to satisfy her insatiable need to know everything about the deadly virus in those vials. When it came to the need-to-know-department, it was apparent that she and the man sitting in the seat opposite her and rubbing his stubbled face were a lot alike.
“Aiden, the viability clock is ticking on that virus.”
He gave her an appreciative half grin. “My father’s an expert when it comes to beating the clock.”
“Who are you?”
“Close your eyes,” he said. “I’ll wake you when we land in Miami.”
It was still dark when Rachel dragged her broken bag across the steamy Florida tarmac and boarded another private plane.
“Where’s the pilot?”
Aiden flashed her a smile. “You’re looking at him.” He climbed into the pilot seat. “You’re welcome to ride shotgun, or you can stretch out in the back.”
“Do you walk on water too?” Rachel slipped into the co-pilot seat and frowned. Surely there was something the man couldn’t do. “I’m not taking a back seat again.” She adjusted the earphones on her head.
Soon they were high above the Atlantic and hurtling toward a rosy glow in the southeastern sky.
Aiden navigated with the skill of a military pilot, pointing out points of interest in the dark water below. “It’s going to be a couple of hours before we get there. You might want to try to get some more sleep before you have to face my dad.”
She could add another hundred questions to her growing list. Was this his plane? Where were they going? Why should she be worried about meeting his father? But her need to have all the information neatly categorized and under her control quickly gave way to sheer exhaustion.
She woke to a gentle elbow nudge.
Aiden was staring at her. “Hey.” He’d been up most of the night, but he didn’t seem the least bit weary.
Rachel sat up and straightened her earphones. “Hi.” Her dry-throat croak into the headset mic generated a smile on Aiden’s stubbled face.
“You talk in your sleep.”
“What did I say?”
“Something about jungles and rivers.”
Rachel turned her head and pressed her nose to the glass, watching as the plane swept low over azure waters so clear she could see a tinge of pink on the sandy ocean floor. Her nightmares didn’t often slip through the wall she’d built around the memories of that long-ago day, but they were her business. Not his. “Where are we?”
“A private island off Bermuda.”
A familiar panic welled in Rachel’s empty stomach. “People go into the Bermuda Triangle and never come out.”
“Relax.” He slicked his tousled hair back. “My family’s been flying in and out of here my whole life.”
The plane circled a small compound situated on a projection of land covered in lush vegetation. Several small, white, tin-roofed buildings spooled off a larger main house. A private dock led to the water where a large yacht-like boat was tethered to the pier. The other side of the property sported an airstrip that did not appear long enough for this plane to safely land and a helipad. Rachel felt the jerk of the descending landing gear. She dug her fingers into the armrest and took a big breath. She didn’t breathe again until the plane taxied to a stop beside a waiting golf cart and a man with a face as weathered as driftwood.
“Come on.” Aiden unclicked his seat belt. “Benny is getting too old to sit out in the heat.”
“Who’s Benny?”
“Benny’s my parents’ estate manager who has been working for my family as long as I can remember. He takes care of everything from security to privacy. You’ll love him.” Aiden climbed out of his seat. “Plus, we need to get this virus on some fresh ice.” He grabbed the transport cooler he’d stowed in a tiny closet then pressed a button that opened the jet door.
“What about our bags?”
“I don’t think you’re going to need those sweaters you packed right away.” He offered her his hand. “Don’t worry, Mom is used to getting visitors all fixed up.”
“But my passport and—”
“It’ll be safe. Come on. The clock’s ticking.”
He didn’t need to remind her of the shelf-life of a virus or the possible threat to her brother. They needed to talk about what was going on and what they should do ASAP. Rachel gathered her scattered thoughts and fears and followed after him.
Salt, sea, and surf perfumed the tropical breeze. She thought she knew everything there was to know about Aiden Ballinger. But perhaps if she’d studied him with the same intensity that she studied viruses she might have known he had his secrets.
Chapter Nine
Aiden stepped off the plane and onto the asphalt runway, trying not to second-guess his decision to bring Rachel to the island. When they’d left DC, his parents’ vacation home on the isolated island had seemed like the one place he could keep her safe. Now that they were here, he wasn’t sure his rash decision to fly her had been the right one. Banking on his father’s help was never certain.
“Wow.” Rachel stopped in front of him, shifting his attention momentarily back to her. “I can see why your family loves it here. White beaches, blue waters as far as you can see. . .This place is stunning.”
“You can see the entire island from Cook’s Peak,” he said, nodding toward the north of them.
She brushed back a strand of hair the wind had blown across her face. “Who owns this place?”
Aiden hesitated. “It belongs to my family.”
“Wait. . .” Her eyes widened at the admission. “Your family owns this whole island?”
He shrugged, not sure if she was impressed by the revelation or if it would make her even more cynical toward him. “It’s not exactly something I talk about on my YouTube channel. In fact, I’ve worked hard to keep this part of me off the Internet.”
“I’ll say. You have a lot of explaining to do.”
“I’ll tell you everything as soon as we get settled. I promise. Trust me.”
The look on her face made it clear that she still didn’t completely trust him. Not that he blamed her. But this wasn’t the world he lived in most of the time. In fact, this was the world he’d tried to leave. And ironically, it was now the one place he hoped he could keep her safe. There was no time to explain further as Benny ushered them onto the golf cart.
“Welcome to Jade Island,” the older man said, with a grin.
“It’s great to see you, Benny.” Aiden quickly made introductions. “How are you?”
“Things are well here, though probably not as exciting as where you’ve been. I heard you went to Tibet to wrangle a virus.”
“I was there, and. . .” Aiden handed him a sealed, foil package he’d brought with him. “I brought you back some coffee beans from the Himalayans.”
The older man shot him an affectionate smile. “Aiden always brings me something from his trips, and knows I’m a bit of a coffee connoisseur.”
“Just a bi
t of a connoisseur?” Aiden laughed as he turned to Rachel. “To Benny, coffee is more than just a drink, it’s an experience.”
“You know me well.”
Which was true, but Aiden didn’t miss the disturbing signs as they headed toward the house, that Benny had aged since he’d last seen him. The lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened and his graying hair was now white at his temples and goatee. Maybe he’d simply taken for granted the idea that Benny would be with them forever.
His mother and father were waiting for them in front of the Caribbean-styled villa that offered dramatic views of the sea and equally striking sunsets.
“You didn’t give us much time to prepare,” his mother said, pulling him into a hug while the wind tugged at the hem of her white maxi dress. “It’s good to see you.”
“You always like surprises, and it was a. . .a spur of the moment decision.” Aiden glanced briefly at Rachel. “I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“We’ve been trying to get you to bring a girl here for years.” His mother’s expectant gaze demanded an explanation and an introduction of the girl he’d dragged into this mess.
Aiden took a step back and gently grasped Rachel’s elbow. “I want you to meet Dr. Rachel Allen. Rachel, this is my mom and dad, Grant and Iris Ballinger.”
“It’s good to meet you.” His father’s eyes brightened as he shook her hand. “You’ve been holding back on us, Son. I’m surprised we haven’t heard about you, Rachel. How did you meet?”
Aiden glanced at Rachel. “At a fundraiser in DC.”
Aiden scrambled for a better explanation, but Rachel beat him to it. “I’ve been following your son’s career for several years now. So when we actually met, I felt as if I already knew him.”
“I’m surprised that someone as young and clearly charming as yourself would be following the career of a virus hunter,” his father said. “It can’t be all that interesting to you.”
“On the contrary,” Rachel said. “I’ve always found the viral world fascinating.”
“Rachel’s a researcher in the same field,” Aiden said, “and very good at what she does.”
