On the Hunt

by Alexandra Ivy

  Yeah. He’d forgotten. Actually forgotten how easily she could tempt him and how much the woman liked to play with fire. Even as the thought spun through his head, he moved.

  His hands clamped her upper arms, and he dragged her into him. Her gasp breathed heat against his lips. The second her body slid against him, his cock tried to punch through his zipper. Yet he fought his natural inclination and slowly, so damn slowly it hurt, lowered his face to hers.

  Then he forgot slow.

  His lips covered hers, and he drove his tongue inside, swallowing her instant moan. Fire. Lava heated his blood, burning his nerves, lighting everything he was on fire.

  He’d forgotten. How, he’d never know. But he’d forgotten the burn.

  The incredible, unreal, so fucking deep shot of raw electricity only she could create. Even as he kissed her, bending her back, taking so hard, anger tried to claim hold. Fury at her for taking away this. This feeling nobody else on earth could actually experience. The feeling of them.

  He tangled his fingers in her hair and twisted, tugging her head back so he could go deeper. His other arm banded around her waist and lifted. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her body gyrated against him, and her mouth filled his with soft little gasps. The male inside him, the one full of instinct with no intellect, roared for him to take. To yank off her clothes and spread her out on the floor. To feast for hours.

  Her fingers curled into his chest, digging through his shirt, nearly unleashing everything inside him he’d tried so fucking hard to tame.

  He jerked his head back, his chest panting.

  Stunning. Her eyes had darkened further, glowing with hunger. Her lips shone red and tempting. She sucked in air. “No,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” he asked, already knowing the answer. When they’d been together, they’d been raw. Real. When they had ended, he’d been nothing. Had she lost herself, too?

  She shook her head and released his shirt. “I can’t do it again.”

  Yeah. He got that. Relying on training, sucking deep to remember who he’d become, he let her slide to the floor. Then he took a step back. He didn’t know how to be coy, and he didn’t have time for games. Plus, the woman deserved the truth and always had. “I want another chance, Nora.” If for no other reason than to get her out of his fucking blood for good. Out of his dreams.

  She blinked, her eyes widened, and she tried to step back, but the wall held her in place. “Absolutely not.”

  He respected her, and he’d walk away if she insisted. But too many emotions glimmered in her eyes. Anger. Fear. Denial. Beyond those, beyond the gates keeping him out, he saw something else. Desire. Yeah. It was there. So he smiled and stepped away. “We’ll discuss it over dinner tonight, after what’ll probably be a long day at work for us both. My place—right next to yours down the hallway. You bring the wine.”

  An hour after meeting with her bewildered team and being ferreted to the CDC, Nora strode into Lynne’s temporary office in the D.C. location. “Your jeans are too tight on me,” Nora groused.

  “Nora.” Lynne dropped a stack of papers onto her disaster of a desk, hustling around to give Nora a hug. “I’m sorry about the secrecy—I tried to call you.” She leaned back, light green eyes warm but marred by dark circles beneath them. “They took our phones. I had to leave Dean Winchester with a neighbor.”

  “You are way too attached to that cat.” Nora forced a smile and studied her best friend. Lynne had piled her curly dark hair up on her head, revealing a graceful neck and very pale skin. At five-six, they were about the same height, but Lynne was definitely more slender. “You look exhausted.”

  Lynne laughed. “I am.” She tucked her arm through Nora’s and pulled her from the room. “The jeans and shirt fit you fine. I’ve heard your ex is running the military side of this for the president, but I haven’t met the Scottish bastard yet. Have you seen him?”

  “Aye,” Nora said in an imitation of his brogue. “Bossy as ever.”

  Lynne tugged her closer. “Sexy as ever?”

  “Yes.” Nora sighed. “Definitely bad boy to the bone.”

  Lynne sniffed. “Very bad. Doesn’t care about the Constitution at all.”

  “I know, right?” Nora stiffened her shoulders. “My team just arrived, and they are not happy.”

  “None of us are happy.” Lynne halted as Zach Barter loped around the corner, blond hair ruffled, tie askew.

  He stopped, and his eyes bugged out. “Dr. Harmony. The Dr. Harmony.”

  Nora rolled her eyes. “Lynne, this is my assistant, Dr. Zach Barter. He’s, ah, heard of you.”

  Zach shoved wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose. “I’ve read the paper you published last month about sequencing bacterial DNA. Twice.”

  “Twice.” Lynne lifted an eyebrow. “That’s nice.”

  Amusement bubbled up through Nora. “Actually, considering Zach has an eidetic memory, twice is quite the compliment.”

  Lynne smiled. “It’s nice to meet you in person, Dr. Barter, although you refused my job offer a year ago.”

  Zach flushed a deep red across his clean-shaven face. “I went where the money was, Doctor. I’m a whore.”

  Lynne threw back her head and laughed, tightening her hold on Nora. “So is my best friend. Thank goodness she lets me borrow her fancy shoes when necessary.” She launched into movement again. “We’re heading to the main lab to look at the bacterium up close. Want to join us?”

  “Well, sure. I’m not much of a lab guy and usually deal with the methodology. Not a big fan of the icky stuff.” Zach pivoted and fell into step. “I’ve been studying the medical histories of the two students fighting what your doctors misdiagnosed as schizophrenia.”

  “Stop saying icky.” Nora bit back a smile. “Zach. Gentle talk here about other doctors.”

  He squinted blue eyes through the glasses. “That was gentle.”

  Lynne sighed. “Geniuses.”

  “Yep.” Nora glanced at her best friend as they wound through long hallways. Soon red and yellow biohazard signs became visible and then lined the way. “Aren’t we geniuses?”

  “Not like I am,” Zach said without a hint of ego.

  True. Nora nodded. “What’s the correct diagnosis for the two surviving students who have changed behaviorally, oh brilliant one?”

  He scratched his head and tripped over something on the smooth white tile. “Damage to the frontal cortex, I suspect. Scans show a decrease in activity but no physical abnormalities. Emotional changes and lack of empathy are the biggest indicators.”

  Nora lifted her head. “Did either of the students exhibit sociopathic tendencies before being infected?”

  “Not that we’ve found,” Lynne answered tersely. “We’re just starting to get a handle on this, and I’ve even been studying up on the oxytocin receptor gene, even though it deals with aggressive behavior more so than empathy.”

  “Huh.” Nora glanced into a pristine lab with advanced security measures. A red Biohazard Level 4 designation was displayed above one window. “I can’t believe I’m being allowed to play in Lynne Harmony’s lab.”

  “Just don’t break anything,” Lynne retorted.

  A tech wearing a pristine white lab coat dodged around the opposite corner, blond hair swinging. “Dr. Harmony, here are the newest results.” She handed over a stack of papers.

  “Hi,” Zach said.

  “Bobbi, Zach,” Lynne said absently.

  Zach gave what could only be described as a half bow to the blue-eyed blonde smiling at him.

  Nora bit back a grin. He was a dork, but a handsome one.

  Bobbi batted long eyelashes. “Zach Barter? I read your dissertation for one of my advanced classes last year.”

  Zach’s chest puffed out. “Just once?”

  “No,” the young woman scoffed, “about ten times.”

  Zach grinned.

  Lynne cleared her throat. “Back to work, everybody.” She turned and swiped a key card.

&n
bsp; “See you later, Zach,” Bobbi called out as they entered the first secured area.

  “Romeo,” Nora muttered, throwing him an elbow.

  “Let’s suit up.” He grinned. “I don’t usually get to say that.”

  Nora turned to make sure she had his attention. “You’re not accustomed to lab work, but you’re excellent, so we need you. Be careful, and if you have any qualms, don’t do it.”

  He nodded.

  Thirty minutes later, after suiting up in protective gear and checking each other’s suits for rips or tears, they finally entered the lab. Machinery lined the outside counters, and the far wall held cages full of mice. Pipes hissed, and electrical machinery hummed. Nora settled into the familiar sounds.

  Lynne maneuvered to a small fridge and pulled out a series of vials. “I’ve tried treating Scorpius with all known antibiotics.”

  “It’s resistant,” Nora murmured.

  “Yep. The outer protein shell is incredibly strong and resilient. So far, we haven’t been able to completely breach it.” Lynne set the vials on the counter and pointed to one with a clear, blue liquid. “I’ve tried everything from adding genetic material to adding chemicals to just yelling at the damn stuff.”

  Nora smiled. “That’s a pretty blue color.”

  “Yes. I bombarded a sample with radiation and damaged its DNA. Well, I altered its DNA, and then I treated it with a combination of zinc and B12 by incorporating a catalyst of titanium oxide,” Lynne said.

  Nora hummed. “Interesting. A mineral and vitamin known to deal with brain function. Lynne, that’s brilliant.”

  “Only if it works. So far, this just looks pretty. I’m hopeful we’ll figure out something useful in it, and I’m very hopeful with the vitamin B.” Lynne pointed to a dark green vial. “Now this one, this one is scary as hell. Another radiated sample combined with Staph, injected with a cocktail of catalysts, and it could be lethal within minutes.” She stepped closer to a keyboard and brought up a computer simulation. “This is how the green interacts with human tissue.”

  She showed the bacterium at a minute level, increasing exponentially and shooting green across healthy cells, creating deadly toxins.

  “What the heck?” Zach breathed, stepping closer.

  Lynne nodded. “The green multiplies so quickly it could conceivably cause death within minutes.”

  Nora stepped back and fogged up her mask. “That rate is crazy. Wow. Bad bacterial alteration. Horrible.”

  “Yes. The alteration made the bacteria even deadlier.” Lynne drew in air and turned around, her eyes oddly glowing in the mask. “Who knows what it could do inside the human body.”

  A chill skittered down Nora’s back. “Does the military know?”

  “Yes.” Lynne leaned closer to whisper. “Once we find a cure, we’ll destroy these altered strains as soon as possible. For now, we need to keep everything we have just in case there’s a clue here to stopping the contagion.”

  Nora nodded and gulped. “Good.” She and Deacan had always disagreed about the military role in scientific discovery, and now, more than ever, she could see the chasm between them. “What happens if you combine the green and the blue?”

  Lynne’s eyes lit up. “The blue slows the rate but not enough. I think a possible solution lies within some mixture of the two. I knew you’d figure that out right away.”

  Nora smiled. “I was the top student at grad school.”

  “Second top,” Lynne retorted.

  “Whatever. Well, we should probably get to work.” Nora had developed several new possible antibiotics in the last few years and couldn’t wait to give them a shot against Scorpius. “I assume I’m here to incorporate our new studies with nanoparticles and their ability to evade the immune system?”

  “Yes.” Lynne pointed to a laptop on a counter. “We’ve had your entire database transferred here.” Beneath the mask, she blushed. “Darn government.”

  Nora sighed. “Fair enough. Let’s see if we can get nanoparticles to zero in on Scorpius and its outer shell.”

  Lynne tapped her face mask. “Are you still working on wrapping nanoparticles in red blood cell membranes to remove toxins from the body?”

  “Yes. If we can neutralize toxins produced by certain bacteria, we have a chance.” Nora rolled her shoulders, accustoming herself to the biohazard suit. “The nanosponges kill the cells by poking holes in them, but each bacteria has a different structure, so I have no clue how it’ll work with Scorpius.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Zach headed for the far counter. “Let’s kill this sucker.”

  They worked through lunch and well into the afternoon, country music playing throughout the lab. In test after test after test, Scorpius won, although Nora’s main experiments with the nanoparticles would take twelve to thirty hours to complete.

  There had to be a way to curb the bacteria.

  A knock on the glass door made Nora jump. She turned to see Bobbi holding a cardboard box of sandwiches. As if on cue, her stomach growled.

  Zach leaned back against the counter and gave Bobbi a half salute. “My hero,” he mouthed.

  Nora tried to keep from rolling her eyes. He really was a goofball.

  Bobbi twittered and winked at him. “Come and get it,” she mouthed back.

  Geez. Enough with the sexual innuendo.

  Zach turned to finish up, and a quick clatter startled Nora out of her thoughts. She instantly focused on him.

  “Damn it,” Zach muttered, hustling across the lab and ripping off his glove.

  Panic heated up Nora’s throat, and she ran toward him. “What happened? Did you puncture?” The idiot had been flirting and not paying attention. God, had he infected himself?

  He finished tearing off the glove and shoved his hand under a faucet.

  Red welled beneath the knuckle of his left thumb.

  Nora scrambled for disinfecting liquid to pour over the wound and glanced toward his station. “What was it?” she breathed.

  “Original Scorpius strain. No mutations,” he bit out, rubbing vigorously.

  Shit. He’d punctured his own skin. Nora’s gaze met Lynne’s somber one.

  Lynne nodded. “Zach? We need to get you to the infirmary. If you infected yourself, the fever will start within an hour.”

  Chapter Three

  After a full day of monitoring the spread of outbreaks, Deke leaned back in his chair and eyed the president’s chief of staff over the man’s sprawling mahogany desk. They’d shut the doors, and quiet reigned for the briefest of moments inside the West Wing. “What happens now?”

  George Ellis rubbed a bruised hand over his bald head. “Nothing for now. We’re covering for the president, and as soon as his fever breaks, everything will be fine.” Almost sixty years old, the stately politician filled out his expertly cut suit like he ran five miles a day, which he did. His eyes were a deep brown, his skin a shade darker, and intelligence all but emanated from him. “The fever has lasted longer with him than with the students, but he’s only fifty-five and in great shape.”

  Deke exhaled. “Even so, fifty-five is different from twenty years old, like it or not. He’s older and it’s not unrealistic to believe it’ll take him a little longer to fight off the infection.”

  “Don’t tell him that when he’s better.”

  “What happened to your hand, sir?” Deke asked quietly.

  George winced. “I ducked when I should’ve dodged, practicing with Secret Service agents earlier.”

  Deke smiled. “I’m glad you took my advice about additional training.”

  George glanced at his hand. “I’m not.” He flexed his fingers and winced. “The president’s fever is at one hundred and four, so I’m thinking it’ll break soon.”

  Deke swirled the brandy snifter. “We’re going to scan his brain, right?”

  “Yes.” George took a deep swallow of his drink. “If he protests, we have a problem.”

  “He won’t.” Deke knew his frien
d, and he’d want to make sure his brain still functioned normally before continuing to lead the country. Of course, if his brain wasn’t functioning, he might not agree. “How’s Sally?” The president would want to know his daughter was doing better when he awoke.

  George shook his head. “Not good. We’re keeping her contained in the residence, and she’s quieted. Is claiming she’s better, but . . .”

  Deke lifted an eyebrow. “But?”

  “She doesn’t seem right.” George rubbed his chest. “I’ve known that girl since she was two years old, and now there’s a different light in her eye. One I don’t recognize—or like.”

  Bloody hell. So much for Sally’s brain kicking back into normal. “We’ll find a cure, I’m sure of it.” Yet nothing was coming close. He’d checked in with Nora through the day, and so far, Scorpius was invincible.

  George nodded. “I know.” His gaze sharpened. “Just in case, I have the vice president under tight security.”

  Deke grimaced. “How’s he feeling after the heart attack last month?”

  “Not good.” George rubbed his chin. “I’m glad we kept it quiet.”

  The government kept a lot quiet, but Deke was okay with that. For now. He lifted an eyebrow. “I hate to sound cold, but who’s third in line? Just in case? Is it you?”

  George’s eyes widened. “Hell, no. How can you not know the order of succession?”

  Deke shrugged. “Don’t really give a damn until it matters to my job.”

  George shook his head. “Third in line is the Speaker of the House.”

  “A politician?” Deke winced.

  “We’re all politicians, jackass.”

  Deke snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

  George studied him like a hawk searching for dinner. “You’ve seemed more at ease since the crisis started than you’ve been all last year.”

  “How so?” Deke took another sip and allowed the aged liquor to heat down his throat.

  George shrugged. “You’re a man of action, McDougall. Always have been and always will be. Strategizing, being on the sidelines, hasn’t been good for you.”

  Deke shifted in his chair. “I’ve done my time, and I’ve done my action. I’ve earned peace.”