by Lisa Harris
“We’ll have time to get to know each other, I’m sure.” His mother waved them past the pool and toward the house. “In the meantime, breakfast is almost ready.”
Aiden caught the fatigue in his mother’s eyes and hesitated. “Are you feeling okay, Mom?”
“A bit tired, but I’m fine. The down time here on the island has been a welcome relief after the non-stop pace back in the US.”
“Good. I’d like to talk to Dad for a few minutes before we eat, if that’s okay. Would you mind helping Rachel get settled and maybe give her a tour of the house? And she’s not exactly prepared for the warmer temperatures.”
His mother’s brow rose. “Of course. Grab some coffee. It’s hot. I’ll take care of her.”
“We won’t be long,” Aiden said, avoiding Rachel’s glare. Clearly, she wasn’t happy about being left alone with his mother.
He swallowed the guilt and followed his parents into the spacious house with its bamboo floors, boho décor, and his mom’s collection of floral prints and colored glass pieces, trying to see the familiar space through Rachel’s eyes. He and his dad grabbed mugs of coffee in the open kitchen after he placed the cooler in the freezer, then headed to his father’s office. Like the rest of the house, the room had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking stunning views of the water.
His father walked to his credenza. “Care for a shot of Irish whiskey in your coffee?”
Aiden held up his hand. “Black is fine. Thanks.”
“It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen you,” his father said, adding a splash to his own cup. “Though I have to say, I’m surprised you brought someone so beautiful and accomplished with you.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Rachel and I are just. . .friends.”
“Flying all the way here to meet your parents doesn’t seem to imply simply friends.”
“In this situation it does.”
“And what situation would that be?”
Aiden moved toward the large window overlooking the ocean, trying to remember the speech he’d memorized on the way over. “You know I just returned from Tibet.”
“I knew you were called to work there with the response team.”
Aiden heard the disapproval in his father’s voice. He’d made it clear that while Rapid Response Teams might be a noble pursuit, it didn’t fit in with the overarching goals of the company or his plans for his son. Any arguments Aiden had countered with had been quickly shot down. Rumor had it that Tibet was going to be the last time the team was sent out.
“We’ve run into a few issues,” Aiden admitted.
“Which is exactly why I’ve always said you can have far more impact running Gaumond Technology than you ever could chasing down viruses. You need to be at the helm of everything we do, not hidden in some remote location.”
“You know I’d never be happy in a suit and tie. I’d never fit in.”
“I don’t know why you insist on holding that stance. The benefits would far outweigh any disadvantages. Your mother and I spend weeks here every year. We can go anywhere we want to go, buy anything we want to buy. It’s the life we want for you.”
“But is this really enough?”
“Enough? How could this not be enough?” His father waved his hand toward the view. “How can you not want all of this?”
Aiden tugged at the worn bracelet on his wrist. He hadn’t come here to fight with his father, and he’d best remember that if he was going to secure the virus and the safety of Rachel’s family.
“I’m not saying that what goes on in the field isn’t important,” his father continued. “But anyone can do that. I’ve been grooming you for years to take over the company. I think you’re missing the point. What we do makes a difference.”
Aiden swallowed the bitter words threatening to surface. “I’m grateful for your confidence in me, and I’ll always be grateful to you for what you’ve taught me, but I’ve never been interested in the bottom line and the financial implications of running a business like this. Besides, there are plenty of other people who can run the company.”
“But they’re not my son.”
Aiden blew out a frustrated breath. There was no use arguing. He’d never change his father’s mind. But neither was he going to back down from what he believed was important.
“Tell me why you’re really here,” his father said.
Aiden shoved his hands into his pockets. “I need your help.”
“I should have known.”
“We discovered something unique behind a strange sickness in Tibet. Something I’ve never seen before.”
“I’ve been keeping up on the daily reports. But I thought you’d pulled out of there?”
“Only temporarily. I took the virus to DC to have it retested.”
His father took a sip of his drink. “What did you find?”
“Not only is the ancient virus viable, we confirmed that it is able to replicate in vertebrates.”
“So a dormant giant virus has managed to infect humans, and it’s spreading.”
Aiden nodded. “But there’s more at play here. For starters, there was a security breach in our communications.”
His father’s eyes darkened.
“And that’s not all.” Aiden hesitated before dropping the second bombshell. “Nate Shepherd is dead, and we think Moreno is as well.”
His father set his drink down on his desk. “What?”
“Last night they found Shepherd’s car in a canal in DC. They say he was drinking, but you and I both know he doesn’t drink. On top of that, a body was found at the lab. I can’t confirm it yet, but Rachel and I believe it was Moreno. There was blood in his office.”
His father downed the rest of his drink then moved toward the window. “And you think this is all connected to the virus.”
“You know as well as I do that the same technology we use to neutralize a virus can also turn it into a bioweapon. All they’d need is the perfect sample.”
“And so you came here with the virus?”
“I came here to figure out what we need to do to stop this before more people get hurt.”
His father stared out the window. “I know it’s possible to reconstruct the virus, but there are a limited number of places and highly-trained personnel who could do this.”
“You’re right,” Aiden said. “Which narrows down who might be behind it.”
And added another option he hadn’t considered before. What if they weren’t just after the virus? In order to reconstruct a virus two things were needed: a high-tech lab and highly-trained personnel.
His father turned around. “Maybe you’re overreacting. You don’t conclusively know Nate Shepherd was murdered, do you?”
“I know Nate. He didn’t drink and drive himself off a bridge.”
“But you don’t know that any more than you know that Moreno is actually dead.”
“There was blood in his office.” Aiden caught his father’s gaze.
“Aiden—”
“There’s more, Dad. We were shot at in the parking garage of the lab, then followed from there. Someone broke into Rachel’s apartment. They took part of a photo of Rachel’s family to send a message. The virus we have. . .Someone is willing to kill for it.”
“Okay. Then what can I do?” On the surface, the question seemed helpful, but he couldn’t allow the another-mess-of-yours-to-clean-up tone to derail him.
“I need a place that is safe for Rachel while I try to figure out what's going on. I was hoping you'd help. I thought you could help me brainstorm on what to do next.”
“What are you thinking so far?”
“The obvious answer would be cloning it synthetically. That way there could be a broader scope of tests and drugs stopping the spread.”
“On the surface I would agree, but this isn’t going to be easy.”
Aiden clasped his hands behind his back. “There’s one person who could help us. He’s off the grid and more than capable—”
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br /> “No,” his father said. “Absolutely not.”
Aiden could feel the frosty air slip between them, despite the warm temperature of the room. He’d once again pushed where he shouldn’t have, but he didn’t have a choice. They were way past playing it safe.
“It was never proven he was guilty,” Aiden said.
“Or that he tampered with lab results, but we all know he did.”
“Do we? You knew Charlie for years. He was your best friend. He mentored me—”
“What was I supposed to do? I protected him from legal consequences, but I couldn’t keep him on at the company.”
Aiden frowned. Rehashing what had happened wasn’t going to change anything. “If not Charlie, then who? This is beyond either of us.”
“I’ll make a few discreet calls. See if I can come up with some answers.”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Aiden said, “and this has to stay under the radar. No one can know where the virus is.”
His father’s frown deepened, but he nodded. “I understand.”
Aiden followed his father out of the office toward the dining room, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake in coming here.
Chapter Ten
Rachel buttoned the jean shorts Mrs. Ballinger had delivered to her room, after insisting Aiden show his guest the beauty of their island in the moonlight.
If the Lord Himself had told her she would be wasting a day in a tropical paradise after stealing from her employer and running for her life, she wouldn’t have believed it.
Since their arrival, she’d had breakfast overlooking the brilliant blue waters of the Atlantic. A long nap in a sumptuous king-sized bed with sheets softer than anything she’d ever experienced. And a three-hour golf cart tour of the grounds with Mrs. Ballinger at the wheel. Rachel had not seen Aiden again until dinner. If he was worried about the clock ticking on the viability of the virus, he didn’t mention it once during the meal.
“You’ve not lived until you’ve had a midnight swim beneath a Bermuda moon,” Mrs. Ballinger said as she bustled into Rachel’s room after dinner and laid out a swimsuit, the shorts, and a sleeveless pink T-shirt.
“You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble—”
“It’ll do my son good to have something other than work to think about for a few hours.”
For a fleeting second, Rachel wondered if Mrs. Ballinger’s sly smile meant she was making plans to keep them here. But Rachel couldn’t just sit on a tropical beach while there was still the possibility that bad people would go after her brother.
“I don’t think Aiden and I have time for fun—”
“You have time. My husband is using his connections to sort out this virus you brought here.” She nodded toward the bathroom. “I’ll tell Aiden to meet you by the pool.”
Rachel had never made an impromptu appearance at the parental home of a man she’d just met. The rules of engagement for this type of situation were unclear, but her gut told her that upsetting Aiden’s mother would be a misstep. Better to ask Aiden what his father could do to offer to secure her family’s safety. Nothing, she suspected.
Rachel thanked Aiden’s mother then obediently gathered up the clothes and excused herself. She would find her own way to convince Aiden they had to leave.
Like the dress Mrs. Ballinger had insisted Rachel wear to dinner, the swimsuit hugged as if it had been made for her body. The designer shorts were a perfect fit and probably cost more than her monthly student loan payment. Rachel slid the T-shirt, silky as the sheets, over her sun-deprived skin then tucked a small section of the shirt’s hem into the front of the shorts. Uneasiness churned the delicious shrimp scampi in her belly. She hadn’t spent any time near the water for pleasure since the last vacation her family had taken together.
Her father had surprised the family by flying them to Brazil. Rachel remembered him telling her and Josiah about the long-nosed dolphins and how the immense volume of fresh water pouring into the ocean diluted the saltiness more than a hundred miles from shore. He’d used the line between the swirl of muddy river water pushing against the tide of blue ocean as an object lesson.
“Like people,” her father said, pulling her and Josiah close, “these two very different bodies of water struggle against each other, unwilling to mix. Imagine the power if they would come together as one body.” Her childish mind had thought he was merely talking about the water he’d taught her to love, but as an adult who’d had ample time to reflect on her father’s words and life, she knew he had died trying to blur the lines people often drew.
Until now she hadn’t realized she missed the water nearly as much as she missed her father. Cara was right. She needed to get out more. Once the virus was secured and her family was safe, she’d take a vacation. Maybe even visit Josiah and Camilla and Emma in California. Spend time on their beach. Either way, she was pretty sure stealing a deadly virus, dodging bullets, and jetting off to the Bermuda Triangle with a man she’d just met wouldn’t reconnect her to the memories of the father she felt slipping further and further away.
Rachel picked up the pair of eco-friendly Chipkos sandals Aiden’s mother had told her had been hand-painted by a Los Angeles artist named David Palmer.
When Rachel hadn’t recognized the name, Aiden’s mom had gone on to enlighten her. “Grant thought spending eighteen thousand dollars for a pair of sandals was a little ridiculous, but he calmed down when I told him the money was going to help endangered rainforest land.” She’d looked Rachel in the eye. “You probably don’t understand the importance of trying to save the rainforest, but it’s an invaluable source of medicinal plants.” She patted Rachel’s slack jaw. “The sandals are supposed to be incredibly comfortable. Enjoy.”
Rachel left the sandals on the bed. She’d rather go barefoot than support philanthropic claims of saving a natural resource if the end goal was the possible exploitation of those resources. Growing up in the jungle, she and her brother never wore shoes. While the bottoms of her feet had eventually turned tough as shoe leather, she never lost her tenderness toward the people who lived beneath the leafy canopy. Her father had given his life to try and help them.
Movement drew Rachel’s attention to the bank of sliding glass doors. Aiden stood beside the negative-edge pool. During the day, the pool gave the illusion of dropping off into the ocean. But the underwater lights gave the chlorinated water a glow that separated it from the salty ocean the way the Amazon River separated itself from the Atlantic. He smiled and waved her out.
Rachel slid open one of the doors and stepped on the flagstone veranda, a stunning three-thousand-square-foot showpiece with clusters of plush wicker seating, an outdoor kitchen, and a twenty-foot-long dining table that overlooked a vast expanse of the water. Moonlight danced on the gentle waves that rolled against the stretch of sand at the bottom of a long staircase.
“You look like you were born for island life.” Aiden had caved to his mother’s pressure and changed into shorts and deck shoes, but he’d not given up his trademark white T-shirt.
“You look a lot more comfortable than you did at dinner.” She could tell from the change in his expression that his discomfort had not come from his mother’s supervision of his wardrobe.
“Sorry about Mom’s crack about never having grandchildren.” He shook his head in an embarrassed expression of apology. “She didn’t mean you weren’t a decent girl when she said I’m too busy chasing viruses to find a decent girl. She’s just—”
“Anxious.”
“Overprotective.”
“You have two parents who obviously adore you.” Rachel offered him a letting-you-off-the-hook smile. “You’re blessed.”
“I take it your mother isn’t bugging you to get married, settle down, and take over the family business.”
“My mother remarried, and. . .well, we don’t communicate much anymore.”
“Sorry to hear that.” They stood side by side staring at the water, emotions rolling over her like the
waves spilling onto the shore. “My mom’s right about one thing. I’d be a fool to waste this chance to change your opinion of me after the unusual start to our relationship.”
Had they started a relationship? “It’s not every day I get to know someone by helping them steal a virus and catch a plane out of the country.”
He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hey, you got a free trip to Bermuda.”
“If you owned an entire chain of private islands, it wouldn’t change my opinion of you.”
“Is that a good thing or bad?”
“Here’s what I know about you. One, you risked your life to get to the bottom of that Tibetan viral outbreak. Most people would have let those poor people die. It probably wouldn’t even have made the news. Two, you left all of this”—she waved her hand toward the large stucco house with the huge wraparound porch—“and chose to live among the suffering. To make a difference in the world.” She swallowed. “You remind me of my dad. . .selfless, passionate, not easily dissuaded from your calling.”
“Was your dad hardheaded too?”
“Mom thought so.” Rachel let her mind drift with the tide. “When our family first arrived in the Amazon, my mother loved their work among the local people. But that all changed the night my father was returning from tending a machete accident deep in the rainforest. He ran across some men working on some sort of illegal drug shipment. They beat him up and threatened to kill him if he didn’t mind his own business. It scared my mother so badly, she begged my father to leave his medical clinic and take us all back to the States. She wanted him to set up a family practice in a nice safe neighborhood.”
“But he wouldn’t?”
It had been years, but her losses still lumped in her throat whenever she had to talk about them, including her dream of one day serving third-world people herself. “He said if he could stop even one person dying of an overdose, then maybe that’s why the Lord had sent him to the jungle.”
“Not sure I believe the Lord uses general practitioners to take down drug cartels.”
