She lifted her cup to her lips and sipped. “I suppose you’re right. We need to take it to the authorities, but who do we trust? I feel like no matter where we go, they’re going to get Interpol involved.”
“Looking at what we’re involved in is the best way to start.” He scanned the wooden tables and mismatched chairs of the eclectic space. “Where can we use a public computer?”
Dani tapped her fingernail on the side of her cup. “The public library is a few blocks away. We won’t need a card since we don’t have to access the Internet to read the drive.”
Brock gave a brisk nod. “Good. We’ll go there when we’re done. For now, let’s check his phone.”
She reached into the pocket of her sweater and slid the iPhone across the tabletop, her hand covering it as if it were a bomb detonator. He took it and scrolled through the text messages first. “Did you communicate using this phone number at all?”
She closed her eyes on another sip. Her shoulders rolled forward and some of the tension left her face. Even without a hint of makeup and her hair frizzy at the ends she was gorgeous.
“We mostly communicated through phone calls. It wasn’t until he told me he had an encrypted number that we started texting.”
He scrolled through the numbers and the tissue behind his eyes ached. Given the mega-long foreign numbers, his brain worked even harder to force pieces together, which did absolutely no good as he wasn’t familiar with European area codes. He clicked on each message. Most were obviously from friends or family judging by the exchange. Then:
Send me your contact’s photo and passport number.
Brock straightened in his seat and brought the screen closer to his face.
“What is it?” Dani stretched across the table. Her scent—hotel shampoo and peppermint—invaded his nostrils.
He tilted the screen so she could read. She inhaled sharply. Her body jerked and her outstretched finger shook as the image of her passport photo filled the screen.
“Shit.” He curled his free hand into a fist and pressed his knuckles into the table to stop himself from punching the wall next to him.
“Oh my god.” She hovered her hand over her mouth. “How did Sven get that?”
“You never gave it to him?”
She shook her head, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Oh my god.” She wrapped her hands around her stomach and rocked forward and then back. “I can’t believe this.”
There weren’t any more messages to read, so he placed the phone facedown. “He sent that February 3. You’ve been here how long?”
“Almost two weeks. I arrived on the second.”
“So he sent it after you arrived. Did you see him around that time?”
She crushed her knuckles to her teeth. “Briefly. He met me at the airport and I brought him to the flat I’d rented for a drink. He left for Paris that night. He said he needed to tie up some things. He must have gotten a hold of my passport while I was in the bathroom. I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”
Brock shrugged. “For starters, this job is a helluva lot different than swiping some diamonds. You’re carrying incriminating information. It was probably one of the stipulations of bringing you on.” Brock sucked back more coffee and narrowed his gaze. “I still think it’s strange Sven went to the trouble of hiring you. He had the password—why not do the job himself?”
Dani made a face and tapped her light pink fingernail against the table. “Sven had a mole. Someone who works for Ubrigg managed to lift his password. Sven said the person refused to steal any information. Apparently, he didn’t want to get involved but did it as a favor for Sven.” She lifted her shoulder. “He also said he didn’t trust anyone besides me to do it.”
“He gave up your identity, but let’s be real—they probably had your face from the cameras. This just gave them a shitload more access to your information.”
She lifted her coffee to her lips. “I wish I could be mad, but he’s dead now.” Strain creased the skin on her forehead.
He covered her wrist with his hand and squeezed. “We should go look at what’s on the drive.”
She nodded and stood. Her wrist slipped from his hold, leaving his palm aching for the silkiness of her skin.
* * *
Dani tucked her hair behind her ears and sat in the chair in front of the computer they’d rented. The bright fluorescent lights and cramped space filled with college-age students made heat tingle in her cheeks. She pulled the flash drive out of her pocket, and her hand trembled as she pushed it into the USB port.
“Relax. It’s data, not porn.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” A shiver of delight ran down her back. Until now, she’d never had an interest in porn, but the thought of Brock watching it sparked intrigue.
No way. Don’t go there.
She shooed all delicious thoughts of naked Brock from her mind and wiggled the mouse. Brock scooted a chair close to her and his arm circled the back of her chair. Her body hummed in unison with his skin, only scant millimeters away.
“Click here,” he said, tapping the screen. His gaze was locked on the computer, reminding her she was the only one so tormented by their closeness. Or if he was too, he did a damn good job of hiding it. She cleared her throat and moved the mouse to the folder.
Twelve files filled the screen and she squinted to read the names. She brought the mouse to the first one: Intro.
“Best place to start, I suppose.” She frowned as she read the paragraphs outlining the experimental virus and its effects on the body. “Oh my god. Why would they even make something like this?”
“Money,” Brock whispered. “Jesus.” He brought his finger to a sentence a few lines lower than where she’d stopped.
Chrisolicom XII has a high success rate of contagion. Carriers become contagious instantly and will die within forty-eight hours of exposure. There is no cure at this time.
She swallowed and pressed her palm between her breasts. Terror flooded her veins with the force of water from a fire hose, and she gripped the edge of the table for support. Brock’s hand replaced hers on the mouse. He backed out of the file and clicked through the other eleven. Pages and pages of formulas, graphs, and studies flipped past her eyes.
“Stop. Shut it off.” She reached forward and yanked the drive from the USB port. “We have to destroy this.”
Brock took the drive from her fingers and curled it in his fist. “Do you think this is the only copy? Look at the data they have. They aren’t worried about losing it. Ubrigg’s company has enough information to make this disease ten times over. They don’t want it in anyone else’s hands, though.”
Her breath made a sharp hissing sound as it passed through her teeth. Blood pumped ferociously against her temples. She pressed her elbows into the table, brought her hands to the throbbing soft spots, and stared at the keyboard. “I can’t believe Sven knew what information he was transporting. I mean, this could wipe out cities—countries—in weeks. Maybe we should send it back to Ubrigg.”
Brock gripped her bicep in his hand. “Are you forgetting he’s the one who created this thing? What do you think his motive was?”
“Maybe he made it for a weapon of war or something.”
“Yeah, and it can’t be contained. There’s no cure. Ubrigg created this knowing it could take out a large mass of the population.”
Her palms turned cold. There was no one to turn to—with the local police and Interpol involved, they couldn’t trust any level of law enforcement. If this fell into the wrong hands, the destruction of humanity would be on their shoulders. Pressure built in her chest and she swallowed over the ache.
“We need a plan.” She dropped her hands from her face. “If we can find out who hired Sven, then we’ll at least have a name to report. As of right now, if we get caught with this formula, we’re going to take the rap and no one will believe that anyone else was involved.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
“How?”
/> His thumb rolled over the sensitive joint at her elbow and his mouth split into a wide grin revealing his perfect white teeth. “Fuck if I know. You’re always the brain of the operation.”
Butterflies beat against the lining of her stomach and the corners of her lips tugged into a smile. She opened her mouth to reply but a movement beyond Brock’s shoulder caught her eye. She narrowed her eyes as a man with his gaze trained on her disappeared behind a wall of books.
“Uh, Brock. I think we’re being followed.”
His fingers chomped into the tender flesh at her arm. “Don’t look. There’s someone in the east corner watching us too.” His chin dipped to her ear. “We need to get out of here.”
She pressed her toes into the carpet, ready to fling her chair backward on Brock’s word.
It didn’t come.
“What do we do?” she whispered.
He took her hand and pressed the drive into her palm. “Go to the bathroom.” He nodded to the restrooms, which were ten feet from their table. “Lock the door. I’ll divert them.”
Panic fired down her body. She grabbed his wrist. “No. It’s too dangerous.” She didn’t fight the desperation clawing at her throat.
“We don’t have a choice. They’re going to make a move if we don’t.” He pried her fingers off his wrist and cupped the base of her neck in his palm.
Her senses buzzed and goosebumps erupted over her skin. The laser focus of his hazel irises landed on her face and stilled. A muscle jumped at his throat and his jaw moved from side to side, as if he were at war with himself. Her body screamed at her to grab him, to take his mouth in hers and forget all the shit that had happened in the past. Tears dampened her eyes and she reached for his shirt, snagging the material. He was strong, capable, and one of the smartest men she knew—but without a gun and against the killers who’d been after her, he probably wouldn’t stand a chance.
All to protect her.
“Brock, please—”
“If there’s a window in there, get out and meet me at the car.” He slipped the keys into the pocket of her sweater. The weight of them pulled at the material. “Be careful.” He pressed his lips to her temple, grabbed her elbows, and guided her to her feet. “Go now,” he barked, his voice hard.
She stood, rounded the table, and kept her head down as she sailed to the bathroom. When she turned to shut the door behind her, she saw one of the men charging across the library, a gun aimed at her.
“Get down!” Brock’s shout sent everyone in the room into a frenzy. Screams filled the space, echoing off the old walls and wooden bookcases. Brock threw a chair at the man advancing on her.
Crack!
The bullet hit the doorframe and drywall littered her face. She screamed and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock into place. Her pulse galloped in her chest and her skin turned cold. She backed away from the door, her hands cupped over her mouth and tears clouding her vision.
No, no, no. There was no way Brock would make it out of there alive.
CHAPTER 7
Who the hell are these guys?
Brock charged the guy he’d just thrown a chair at. The man had gotten off a shot—he’d kill the bastard if he’d hit Dani. Worry pushed to the forefront of his mind, but he kicked it away. If he didn’t get rid of these guys, he and Dani both wouldn’t make it out alive.
Regaining his balance, the shooter turned toward him. Brock took in his appearance: jeans and leather jacket, close-cropped hair, sharp brown eyes.
The guy positioned the gun in front of him and Brock dove for his midsection.
Crack!
Pain ripped through Brock’s right shoulder. He grunted and connected with the shooter, taking him down. Heat spread across his bicep and radiated up his neck. Rage filled his veins, and he pressed his forearm into the asshole’s throat, keeping his weight distributed over the rest of his body.
“Who sent you?” Brock ground his arm deeper into the man’s jugular and his eyes bulged. Brock wrestled the gun from the man’s fingers, trapped beneath Brock’s knee. He shifted the weapon into his palm and pointed it under the man’s chin. “Tell me who hired you.”
“Get the fuck up!”
Brock’s hackles rose, and he turned to the voice. Beside him was a man dressed in black pants, a brown coat, and dark shades. He stood with his feet braced apart and his hands locked on the handle of the gun trained on Brock’s head. “Put the gun down.” His accent suggested he was of French origin.
The muscles in Brock’s shoulder jumped to the rhythm of his pulse. Over his dead body. Granted, Switzerland was different from the US in many ways, but these guys weren’t cops.
“You a cop? Show me your badge.” He didn’t lift his weight from the dude suffocating beneath his arm.
“Stand up. Now!”
The man beneath him grasped at Brock’s sleeve. Brock glanced down. The guy’s face had turned reddish purple. Spit leaked out the sides of his mouth and his eyes were bloodshot. He pressed a little harder. If he could get this dude to pass out, he’d only have one thug to contend with. Brock scanned the library. The citizens had cleared out, leaving chairs overturned and books abandoned.
The last thing he wanted to do was risk an innocent person’s life. With the library empty and Dani hopefully out a window or secured in a stall of the locked bathroom, he had to take action.
“I’ll do what you say if you tell me who you are.”
The man took a step forward and dipped his chin. “We’re here on behalf of Ubrigg Lichti. Your friend has something we want.”
Brock’s nerves prickled and his brain worked at warp speed. Even if this guy was telling the truth, there was no way in hell they could trust them. Ubrigg’s men had already tried to kill her at her apartment. They’d do it again even if they got what they wanted. Especially if they thought she’d seen the formula. And if he wasn’t who he claimed, he could be one of the men Sven was supposed to hand the data over to—the supposed rival company.
As the man beneath him went slack, Brock lifted the gun over his head. “Back up and I’ll put it on the ground.”
The second man’s face tensed but he backed up several feet. Brock kept his gaze locked on the guy’s tight form and slowly lowered the gun, keeping his finger on the trigger. He needed to divert him, and fast. Brock jerked his focus over the man’s shoulder, and the guy glanced to his side.
Leaping to his feet, Brock fired. The man howled as the bullet connected with his thigh, and he grabbed his leg and went down. Brock sucker punched him in the nose and his head snapped backward. Blood dribbled down his face and he moaned, one hand on his thigh, the other covering his nose. Then Brock grabbed the shooter’s dropped weapon and secured it in the waistband at the small of his back.
He brought the gun in his other hand to the dude’s uninjured leg. “Let’s try this again. Who sent you?”
Sirens screeched outside and Brock hesitated. He turned his attention to the red and blue lights flickering down the street in front of the library. Fuck. He had to get to Dani. He fished in the unconscious guy’s inside jacket pocket, grabbed his wallet, and ran to the women’s bathroom.
He rapped the heel of his fist against the metal door and it jumped on the hinges. “Dani, it’s me! Come out!” He pounded again. Nothing. Shit! He pushed through the men’s restroom door, locked it, and moved to the window between the line of stalls and wall of sinks.
He shoved it open and leaned out. Several feet to the left was another window—and it was open. She must have escaped. He lifted his foot to the sill, balanced on the edge, and dropped eight feet to the alley below. He landed on the gravel in a deep squat and grunted as the impact jarred his knees. The sirens screeched louder to the west, indicating they’d arrived at the library. He had to move quickly. Cruisers would be scouring every corner in minutes.
He turned in the direction of the parkade and ran down the alley to the street behind the library. His bicep screamed and he touched the wound. Warm, sticky
liquid coated his fingers. Shit. He covered the region with his palm and brushed past strangers, keeping his head down. Locals buzzed around storefronts. He hoped he blended in. The parkade came into view and he clamped his teeth together. Worry collided with terror in his gut, and he forced away images of Dani getting caught. It took all his self-control to walk at a normal pace the rest of the distance to the parking garage. Once he reached the stairwell, he took the stairs two at a time. He flung open the door and broke into a run on the second level.
His rented Ford came into view, and he strained to look through the windows as he approached. Where the hell was she? He reached the driver’s side door and ripped it open. Empty. He moved to the rear door and did the same. Their bags lay piled on the seats. She was gone.
No, no, no.
Anguish exploded inside him. He grabbed a handful of his hair and cursed. He never should have left her. Never should have—
“Brock!” Dani’s body collided into his side, and her arms circled his waist. “Ohmigod, I thought you were dead.” Her voice broke on a sob.
Immeasurable relief sucked at his heart, releasing the gripping pain in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and dipped his face to her hair. Then he pushed her back just far enough to give her a menacing glare. “You scared the shit out of me. I told you to wait in the vehicle.”
Her slight shoulders bobbed. “I wanted to make sure no one came after me. I would have been a sitting duck in the car if they had.”
He brought his palm to her cheek, and with the hand on her back he pulled her tighter to his chest. Her perfect clear-blue orbs widened. They squeezed his soul with every lust-filled look she gave him.
Pride at her quick thinking swelled in his chest. “Like I said, you’re the brains.” He smoothed his thumb beneath her eye. Touching her like this was the last thing he should be doing, but there wasn’t a chance he could stop.
She tilted her head, surveying him, but her eyes sparked with pleasure and heat emanated from her body.
If he didn’t step away from her, kissing her would be the least of his worries. “Let’s get out of here.”
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