Midnight Fever

by Lisa Marie Rice

  Metal nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And the cytokine levels?”

  “Through the roof, the coroner said. By the way, they don’t usually test for cytokine levels. The coroner wants to know how we knew to ask for it.”

  “A hunch. But it doesn’t mean anything good. As a matter of fact, this could be devastating news.” She felt overwhelming sadness and exhaustion. And fear. “I’ll know more when I can look through the files.”

  Nick had both hands on her shoulders now. It felt so good—the heat, the strong weight of his hands anchoring her. Metal in front of her on the screen; by his side, Felicity and the entire ASI crew. Nick behind her, touching her. She was surrounded by support.

  She reached up and clasped Nick’s hand. He tightened his grip then loosened it.

  She looked at Nick, then at the screen. “I don’t know how to thank you guys for all of this. If it weren’t for you—”

  “Whoa.” Metal’s eyes widened in alarm. She knew how tough guys thought. Was she getting sentimental on him? God forbid. He’d want to cut that off stat. “We don’t need thanks. Of course we’re on your side, of course we’re going to help you. We won’t stand by with a threat like this looming. And you’re Felicity’s friend and Al’s granddaughter and Nick’s—”

  He stopped suddenly, bit his lips, looked frantically to the side to Felicity to rescue him. His hand reached out, switched the camera so his face disappeared and Felicity’s face filled the screen. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind Metal. He suffers from foot-in-mouth disease. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

  The monitor winked off.

  Nick massaged her shoulders for a moment and her head hung forward, giving him access. His strong fingers dug into stiff muscles expertly.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Shower and food.” She cracked her neck to the left then the right. “In that order.”

  “Coming right up. You shower and I’ll prepare dinner, okay?”

  Kay craned her neck to look up at him, so broad, so steady. He’d saved her life and he was still looking after her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Don’t thank me yet.” He bent and brushed his mouth across hers, the contact soft but almost electric. “Not until after you’ve had dinner.”

  Kay smiled. “I’m told there are food stocks.”

  “Oh, the food is fabulous, but I’ve been known to ruin food in the microwave. Nuke it to death. Lucky there’s plenty of it. Oh, wait.”

  He disappeared from the room and came back with folded fabric between his hands. “Women think of everything. There’s a huge stockpile of clothes, including casual wear that can double as pajamas. You’ll be comfortable in these.” He held out soft yoga pants in a light lavender jersey and a matching long-sleeved tee shirt. All of the Grange seemed to be temperature-controlled. Goldilocks climate. Not too hot, not too cold.

  The outfit was pretty, casual, and looked amazingly comfortable.

  “Next question. So, shower. Or bath?”

  Kay thought about it. A bath sounded wonderful. She was sore and tired and a hot bath would definitely relax her muscles. But there would be work tonight, hard work, and she’d have to be alert.

  “Shower,” she said on a sigh.

  “Shower it is. Follow me.”

  “Oh man.” The bathroom was bigger than her first apartment. It was glorious. Tiny golden-bronze tiles created a mosaic effect that looked super modern and byzantine at the same time. One wall held a huge bathtub so deep you needed to climb up three steps to get in. It was ringed with waterjets.

  “At some point, I’m going to want that bath.”

  “Anytime, honey.” There was a slight dent in his cheek as he sketched a smile. Those dark eyes watching her carefully were full of heat. At one point, she was going to want that, too. “You can have whatever you want.”

  She met those dark eyes. “Careful what you say, Nick. What if I want something impossible?”

  “Then I’ll just have to work hard to give it to you. I know how to work hard.” He did. And he knew how to say the exact perfect thing at the perfect time.

  “Well lucky for you, right now all I want is a shower and some food.”

  He opened the etched opaque-glass shower door and she peeked inside. It was a huge space, marble-slabbed, with multiple showerheads and a seating bench.

  “Hot or cold?” he asked.

  “As hot as possible.”

  He reached inside the shower door and punched a few buttons. Hot water streamed from the huge rainfall showerhead. Steam rose, immediately filling the room.

  Nick kissed her forehead. “Enjoy the shower. There’s soap and shampoo inside. Towels are here.” He indicated a white lacquered cabinet. The yoga outfit was on a bench near the cabinet. “Take your time.”

  She smiled at him, holding the smile until he closed the bathroom door behind him. She was on her last reserves, shaking with fatigue while still charged with adrenaline.

  This morning’s events popped up before her, as clear as if she were living them again. Her trek to meet up with Mike Hammer, fully expecting to disappear from her life for an unknown period of time. The drone, the spray, Mike’s sudden collapse, him drumming his heels against the ground, turning red then blue. Watching him die a terrible death.

  Wondering if she was next.

  Kay slowly took off her clothes. They smelled used, unclean. She wondered if evil had a stench and if this was it. Whatever had reached out to smash Mike was definitely evil.

  She was so glad to have a change of clothes because she knew she could never put this outfit back on. Maybe she’d burn it. The pantsuit was pretty—a light turquoise that the saleslady said brought out the color of her eyes. She’d enjoyed buying it and she’d liked wearing it, and now it had an association that hurt her heart.

  Kay had other clothes in the suitcase that was now with the police, but she was happy with the casual yoga outfit that evoked no memories. She’d thought when she’d crept out of the hotel room this morning—was it only this morning? God! It felt like days, weeks had gone by—that her life was changing forever in one direction. Well, it had changed profoundly and forever, only in an entirely different direction.

  Though Mike hadn’t given specifics while they were arranging the meet-up, she knew that she’d be going underground, at least for a time. Some whistleblowers stayed underground all their lives, and she’d been prepared for that.

  Mike had warned her not to pack a suitcase so large it would raise suspicions. Just what she’d normally pack for a four-day conference in another city. That had made it almost easier. No special mementos, no family heirlooms. Just outfits for four business days plus casual travel wear. Her one indulgence had been a small hard drive with all her family photos scanned and stored. That was it, what she’d be carrying into an unimaginable future.

  This morning, she thought that she’d be spending the night in some kind of safe house Mike and his magazine would have arranged. No idea where.

  Instead, here she was in some kind of deluxe hideout with every comfort known to man, built to survive the end of the world.

  This was to be her place for the next little while, with Nick.

  But first, oh man, first she needed to wash all of this off her.

  Kay winced as she shrugged off her jacket. What had been a dull ache down her right side turned into sharp pain when she lifted her arms. Her entire body hurt but the pain was most focused on her right arm and shoulder.

  Kay flashed again on that horrible moment this morning. The drone with its soft buzz, so alien-looking, swooping down on them. So far from anything she could recognize that for a frightening moment, she’d thought it was a huge mutant insect. It was coming so fast her lizard brain knew it would crash into them. Mike, pushing her out of the way so hard she bounced off the wall. She hadn’t even felt the pain at the time, she’d been so terrified.

  It had all been in the slow motion of adrenaline overload—the
hormone speeding up the frames the eye saw so that it felt as if it were happening slowly. That big black…thing swooping down, the light of recognition in Mike’s eyes, his body swiveling to push her away hard. Falling against the concrete wall, bouncing off it with her shoulder.

  Her body felt every ache and pain, but there was no serious damage. She’d dislocated her shoulder once as a kid so she knew what something like that felt like. That wasn’t this. It was painful but without the deep hurt of serious bodily harm.

  Still, taking off her pants hurt, bending down to slip off her flats, take off her socks—pure pain. Thank God her bra had a front clasp.

  She stepped into the shower, face up to the huge showerhead, and closed her eyes, basking in the hot stream of water. Oh God, that felt so good. Turning slowly around, arms out, giving herself up to the moment.

  The hot water and steam penetrated her muscles down to the bone. She emptied her mind of all thought, drifted up and away from her body like when she did her meditation practice. Time floated, carrying her on waves. She bent her head forward now, to feel the heavy stream at the base of her neck and the tops of her shoulders.

  Without thinking, she reached for the shampoo, groaning as her hand grabbed the bottle. Pain shot through her, a lightning bolt from hell. Her right arm was useless; she’d have to do this one-handed with her off hand. Even opening the bottle was hard. In trying to unscrew the cap, it fell to the tile floor.

  “Here,” a deep voice said in her ear, “let me help.”

  Nick stepped forward against her back, taking the shampoo bottle from her hand. His hard, naked body against her increased the heat. A cold dribble on the top of her head from the shampoo, then the feel of his strong hands washing her hair. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he massaged her scalp. Amazing. Those strong fingers were scrubbing the day away.

  He angled her under the showerhead, rinsed her hair and poured more shampoo on. This time the massage was long, so long she drifted in space for a little, feeling but not thinking, her body utterly happy from the top of her head down to the bottom of her feet.

  That dense hot body behind her disappeared and she opened her eyes, blinking. She turned and saw him, washcloth in one hand, soap in the other. He smiled at her and she smiled back. He bowed his head. “Your valet awaits instructions, milady.”

  Kay rolled her eyes, opened her hands by her sides. “You may proceed.”

  “God, yeah.” Nick wasn’t able to hold that subservient expression for more than a minute. He stepped forward, cupping her neck with one hand, gliding the washcloth over her shoulder with the other. His hand was so sure, she allowed herself to relax into it, knowing he’d hold her up, knowing he wouldn’t hurt her.

  He kissed her, one of those ferocious Nick kisses that were another form of sex. Tongues and lips and teeth, and when she opened her eyes, all she could see was Nick. His face and broad shoulders in the periphery of her vision. Water was pouring down over both of them. They could have been under a waterfall, like in the movies. Well, since they were both naked, probably an X-rated one.

  Who cared?

  Nick’s mouth moved to her neck, which last night she had discovered was a major erogenous zone, something she hadn’t known before. All it took was Nick’s mouth, his teeth nipping lightly, and she turned on like a light bulb whose switch had been thrown.

  He took another step back and looked at her, really looked, head to toe. With any other man, Kay would have felt uncomfortable with that kind of scrutiny of her naked body, but it felt warm. And definitely approving. His dark eyes gleamed, a half smile on his face. He hadn’t shaved and there was a definite five o’clock shadow—or whatever time it was—thing going on. It made him look slightly scruffy, dangerous.

  The washcloth slid over her shoulders, down the center of her torso, down to the center of her. She made a sound that galvanized him. He tensed, watching her closely, gaze going from her eyes to her mouth and back again.

  He slid the washcloth between her legs and waggled his hand. She obeyed the unspoken order and slid her legs apart.

  The washcloth slid to the floor and it was now his hand that was stroking her, right…there.

  “Milady likes?” he murmured, voice so low it barely carried over the sound of the falling water. She felt it in her belly more than heard it.

  Softly, gently stroking, one finger barely inside her. He reached deeper. “You like that?” he repeated.

  Kay breathed out slowly as her legs started shaking. He was fully erect now. Her hand closed over his penis and she pumped once, hard, base to tip and back. Nick’s head went back and he gave a sound of pain. “I like it as much as you like this,” she said, leaning forward to lightly bite his nipple.

  “Oh Jesus. I wanted to play for a while.” He picked her up with one arm and with the other hand, did something to the shower jet as he sat down on the bench with her straddled on his lap. The water continued streaming down, hot but not as hot as she felt.

  “Closer,” Nick murmured. His arms brought her closer, so her breasts were crushed against his chest and her sex was open against his erect penis. “That’s it.”

  That was it. Kay locked her arms around his neck, loving the feeling of touching him all along her front. He bit her ear, lifted his lips, bit her neck, rubbing his penis against her open sex. God, it was almost as good as penetration. Every nerve ending was stimulated, the slow movement like honey.

  She put her mouth to his ear. “Nick.”

  “Hmm?”

  Another long, liquid stroke against her outer sex. Her thighs were trembling. She was close and he knew it.

  “Come inside me,” she whispered directly in his ear, and felt him shudder.

  “A minute, I have to do something first.”

  She opened her mouth to protest and he kissed, hard and deep. If he thought he was going to win arguments by kissing her…he was probably right.

  Another long, slow glide against her and she felt his finger, touching her exactly where he should be touching her, and it all coalesced. The fragrant steam, the falling water, Nick’s mouth on hers, his careful touch where she was so sensitive.

  Kay gasped in his mouth as the climax rolled over her and she contracted sharply against his hand. He lifted her high, positioned himself, and let her slowly slide down him, the effect electric while she was climaxing, so deep inside her that he felt like a part of her, the best part of her, holding her hard as he kissed her and kissed her. She felt utterly possessed.

  The contractions slowed, stopped. She was sprawled on his lap, legs wide over his, so close she felt his crinkly pubic hairs brush against her.

  There was no more strength as she slumped against him, held up by his arms and mouth and sex.

  “That,” Nick said. “That’s what I had to do first.”

  And he started moving inside her.

  Portland

  There were always bumps in the road. Oliver Baker understood that. But this was a major hurdle, and potentially very dangerous. So far no one had noticed the engineered H1N1. No one. The absolutely perfect murder weapon, like in that story where the wife killed her husband with the frozen leg of lamb she roasted and served to the police inspector.

  A weaponized super-fast version of the Spanish flu linked to the victim’s DNA. You could be right next to the victim, dying fast and dirty, and not get so much as a cold. And you could extend the range of the DNA. You could kill the person, the person’s kids or parents. You could wipe out a family or even a tribe. At least in theory.

  That theory was going to be tested in four weeks’ time. A tiny inbred tribe in the heart of the Congo was sitting on one of the world’s largest deposits of coltan, essential to the manufacture of computers. The tribe would be made to disappear. A gallon of the liquefied DNA-edited virus would be sprayed over their hunting area. Baker had thousands of hours of footage of the tribe’s movements and had mapped out their territory exactly. Half an hour after spraying, the tribe would be no more.
Give it a week for the jungle to reclaim the dead, and Collux Mining could move right in and start extracting.

  Superdeath, Frank Winstone called it. He should know. As head of the CDC, he dealt with death daily, only he was famous for defeating it. As a young researcher, he’d developed a vaccine for a rare hemorrhagic fever disease and had saved hundreds of thousands of lives. And would save millions over the years to come.

  And hadn’t earned a dime from it.

  It was why he’d come to Oliver last year, because he knew—everyone knew—that Oliver was King Midas. Whatever he touched turned to gold. Though Oliver had never actually quite had something so…remunerative, so golden in his hands before. He’d started life as a lawyer and had done well. Knowing the law helped you navigate its outer reaches. He became the go-to guy. If you had a problem, Baker would get you out of it. Whatever you needed, Baker could get it for you.

  He’d done a stint at the CIA and had an ad hoc team of former Clandestine Service agents who liked earning money. A roster of fifty kickass operatives on retainer ready to go at any time. It was perfect. He made them enough money to earn their loyalty but they weren’t employees and weren’t on the payroll. What they did in their downtime was their business. He didn’t pay salaries. He paid fees.

  Baker had made his first twenty million before Frank approached him with the most perfect weapon ever, guaranteed to solve any problem that was human. Just eliminate it.

  Frank had developed it, but didn’t know how to use it. But Baker did. Oh yeah.

  Baker made his second twenty million in the first six months he had access to Superdeath. And this year, he was going to double that. There was, almost literally, no limit to what he could earn, to what he could do, as long as no one understood what had been created.

  Sometimes he had to take a little risk, like the De Haven bitch. Normally Oliver let a little time go by between a threat to a client and the elimination of the threat. But Offutt had been adamant. He wanted her dead yesterday, and so Oliver had been forced to act right in the middle of a congressional investigation, with the spotlight turned on De Haven.