Opposing Forces

by Adrienne Giordano

  * * *

  Lynx hobbled into his office with Vic and Jillian behind him. Blinding three o’clock sunlight shined through the large windows behind his desk and smacked off his computer monitor. Typically, the shades would be closed by now.

  A reminder he’d ignored his work all day.

  He went straight to the framed picture of the American flag, balanced on one crutch and took it off the wall to get to the safe.

  “I’ll do it,” Vic said.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “I’ll be faster.”

  “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

  Jillian threw her hands up. “What is wrong with you two? Forget the pissing match and open the damned safe.”

  Vic did his oh-shit face. “Yeah. I know,” Lynx said to him.

  “I like her.”

  Me too. Wasn’t this always the way? When his friends were around, the walls between them went down and all the nervousness was gone. They weren’t hung up on addiction and disappointment and fear. If they could get past putting those walls up when they were alone, they’d be dynamite. Better than dynamite.

  Mike stepped into the office and Lynx thought his entire chest cavity had caved in. Mike’s cheeks had that pulled-tight, no-nonsense look that sometimes defined a man who’d built an empire on his own sweat. His eyes shifted from Lynx to Vic and finally to Jillian.

  He pointed at the crutches. “What’s this?”

  “A little accident.”

  “I see that. How little?”

  Where to even begin. Behind him, the safe sat open. Jack ignored the tick-tock of his mental clock, grabbed the stray crutch and moved to his desk chair. “Sorry. I gotta sit a second.”

  “Sure,” Mike said.

  Once in his chair, Lynx looked up at Mike and realized this was it. He’d have to come clean about the vial and his continual disregard for a three-hundred-million-dollar government contract.

  In typical alpha male fashion, Mike remained standing. Nothing like making a man feel weak by standing over him. But Lynx didn’t have room for his ego right now. His knee was shredded and barking at him again, and he had to get that vial to the DEA.

  “I don’t know where to start, Mike, so I’m just gonna jump in.” He pointed to the safe. “In my safe is a vial of Baxtin, a blood thinner that I—”

  “We,” Jillian interrupted.

  “That we took from a Stennar Pharm shipment.”

  The muscles in Mike’s jaw twitched. His shit meter hitting launch, no doubt. “Why?”

  “I think it’s been tampered with and we’re turning it over to the DEA for testing.”

  Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “The DEA?”

  “It’s...uh...”

  Mike turned to Vic and held out his hands before coming back to Lynx. “Let me get this straight. We had a conversation about Stennar Pharm, did we not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mike,” Vic said.

  Mike didn’t bother to look at him, but held his finger up. “I’ll deal with you in a second.” Vic leaned back on the windowsill. Mike kept his attention on Lynx. “We had a conversation. You assured me it wouldn’t be a problem. Now you’re telling me you stole a vial of drugs. Gotta be ten broken laws there, so I don’t see how that’s not a problem.” He turned to Vic. “And you’re helping him?”

  “No,” Lynx said. “He’s not. He came to the hospital to see if I was okay. Jillian called him.”

  “How the hell is the DEA involved?”

  “An agent came to my apartment early this morning. He wanted to know my involvement in his case.”

  “An active case?”

  “Yes.”

  Mike pressed his fingers to his temples. “I thought you didn’t find anything on them. Why is the DEA in this?”

  Lynx sat back. Why indeed? In the few calls he’d made, there had been no indication of an investigation by the DEA. He glanced at Jillian standing quietly off to the side. Mike was steamed enough that he may have forgotten she was there.

  Suddenly, her eyes were huge and she rushed to the desk. “Hang on.”

  “What is it?”

  She faced Mike. “Two weeks ago my boss killed himself by jumping off his eighteenth-floor balcony. No one knows why.”

  Silence descended on the room and Lynx’s fuzzy brain circled thoughts of Jillian’s dead boss. “Son of a bitch.” He picked up his desk phone and dialed Janet’s extension. “Hey. It’s Lynx. Can you get into those Stennar Pharm files for me again and check—” He held the phone away. “What was the guy’s name?”

  “Greg Leeds,” Jillian said.

  He pulled the phone back. “Check any files with the name of Greg Leeds. Call me back.”

  Mike finally dropped into one of the guest chairs and rested one elbow on the armrest. He swung a finger at Jillian and Lynx. “You think the jumper was involved with whatever is going on?”

  “Or he was undercover for the DEA.”

  Vic whistled low. “That would be a pisser.”

  Mike held out his hands. “How the hell do my people get into this crap?”

  “We can’t help ourselves,” Vic offered. “It’s hardwired.”

  “Well, we need to figure out a way to de-wire it.”

  Lynx cleared his throat. “Anyway, we’re meeting the DEA guy in half an hour to give him the vial.”

  If possible, Mike’s face turned even more solid. Rock hard. He folded his arms and dropped his chin to his chest. A brilliant display of keeping his temper on lockdown. He cracked his neck then straightened. “You’d better have control of this.”

  I hope I do. First, Lynx had serious maintenance to perform with his boss. “If I’m right about Stennar Pharm, they’re into something illegal. Something big if the DEA is involved. Once they get busted, there’s not a politician in the country that’ll be associated with them. I’ll make sure of that too.”

  “Mike,” Vic said. “This is not bullshit. You gotta trust him on this.”

  Bit by bit, the rigidity in Mike’s body eased off. “Take the vial to the DEA. At some point, update me. I need to understand what we’re up against.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sufficiently pissed off, Mike headed for the door. “Vic,” he said over his shoulder. “Stay with them. He’s close to useless on crutches.”

  * * *

  Lynx hobbled into Portillo’s with his knee bandaged and the vial of Baxtin shoved into his jeans pocket. As usual for the dinner hour, the enormous restaurant was packed. There was always an organized chaos to a Portillo’s visit. Some folks waited on line to order. Others waited at the far end to pick up food and the rest filled in tables. Good and noisy. And chances of the bad guys trying to make a move on them in here were small.

  Too many witnesses.

  Right now, they needed to unload the vial, get back to the office, fill Mike in and then get Jillian somewhere safe. Probably the farm, Taylor Security’s offsite training facility, literally a farm in Northwest Indiana. It consisted of acres and acres of open land that Vic had converted into a training center where law enforcement, spec ops guys, independent contractors and various other groups came to sharpen their skills.

  The farm also had an old house that had been renovated to a ten-thousand-square-foot meeting facility. Mike had built offices with pullout sofas in case any of the guys needed to sleep there.

  Jillian would be safe in that fortress.

  Lynx commandeered a table while Jillian went to get food. Vic stayed behind to babysit him. Next he’d need a pacifier.

  On cue, Vic shook his head. “Anything Daddy can get you, punkin’?”

  “Oh, fuck off. You should go with her.”

  “She can run. You can’t.”

  Way to make a guy feel small. Still
, Vic’s gaze surveyed the crowded room. If anyone got close, he’d be up and moving.

  No one got close.

  At least until Kurt came through the revolving door into the crush of people wanting their beef sandwich.

  “That’s him,” Lynx said.

  Vic stood. “The guy in the black jacket and Yankees cap?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jeez, he looks like a goof.” Vic held a hand up and waved. The DEA agent nodded and pushed through the line of people waiting to order.

  “This is Vic Andrews,” Lynx said. “A friend and coworker. He’s up to speed.”

  The two men sat while Vic stood, doing a fine job of pretending to search for Jillian and their food.

  From his pocket, Lynx pulled the vial, still wrapped in the napkin, and passed it to Kurt.

  Kurt immediately shoved it into his jacket. “I’ll check the lot numbers. See if anything has been reported stolen.”

  “Jillian searched the Stennar Pharm system, but didn’t see any alerts from the manufacturer.”

  “Did you touch the bottle? Leave any prints?”

  “No. I used a napkin.”

  “Good.”

  Jillian stepped up with a tray of food. “Hi, Kurt. I didn’t know what you wanted so you got a burger with fries.”

  “I can’t stay.”

  She set the tray down and rolled her eyes. “Then I guess you’re taking it with you. Maybe you should stay a few minutes so it doesn’t look suspicious?”

  He smiled at her and Lynx felt a shot of jealousy storm him. Suddenly, other men weren’t allowed to smile at Jillian.

  “I’ll take it to go,” Kurt said. “I don’t think anyone will notice.”

  “Suit yourself, but I’m eating.” She shoved a cup of soda at Vic. “You. Sit. Eat.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She grabbed the seat beside Lynx and handed him a foam container from one of the bags. Chicken. That was his. He set the container down. “Kurt, anything we should know about Greg Leeds?”

  Kurt’s gaze skimmed him then went to Jillian. “Why?”

  “Because he was my supervisor who happened to dive off a balcony two weeks ago.”

  Kurt processed it in silence, then leaned forward so he didn’t have to scream over the crowd. “I received a letter from him two days after he jumped. He mailed it the day he died.”

  “Good Lord,” Jillian said. “What did it say?”

  “I can’t share that with you.”

  Lynx shoved a fry in his mouth. The painkiller was almost gone and his knee throbbed. Plus, he didn’t need Special Agent Screwball giving him a hard time when they’d just handed over possibly blockbuster evidence. “That’s horseshit.”

  Kurt wrapped his hand around the neck of the open bag and stood. “Life stinks.”

  “Don’t I know it. What do you have on Stennar Pharm?”

  “Not enough. I’m not sharing what we do have. Keep funneling me information that might help. That’s all I can tell you.”

  * * *

  Jillian stared at Jack. The painkiller had worn off. She could see it in the pinch of his lips. The way he focused so intently on his food.

  It was a non-narcotic.

  Hadn’t that been the thing she’d been holding on to since she’d watched the plunger go down? She’d sat in that room, holding his hand while the nurse slipped the drugs through his IV. Sat there watching his eyes roll back and the pleasure wash over him.

  Pleasure.

  He’d admitted it to her. That he liked it. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, the reality of watching the drugs hit his system forced her to accept it.

  Her intense attraction to him kept shoving his addiction aside. She enjoyed him. Simple as that. Now, though, she’d spend the next hours wondering if he’d be looking for a fix.

  This is how it had always been with her father. He’d get sober and she’d wait for him to fall off the wagon again because that’s what he did. Always.

  “What’s up?” Jack asked her.

  She picked up her sandwich. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  “Yeah, I see that. Wanna expand?”

  She held his stare, thought about admitting her thoughts, but decided against it. What was the point? They had enough to deal with.

  Across from her, Vic crumpled his sandwich wrapper in his giant hand. “I think we should huddle up somewhere and go through those files Janet got into. See what’s there.”

  A woman squeezed between Jillian’s chair and the one behind her. The dinner crowd thickening. Jillian gathered up garbage, loaded it on her tray and leaned in. “I think Greg discovered something and they knew it. They probably went after him the way they have me. And I don’t really know anything.”

  Jack reached for the crutches on the floor next to him. “Or he was in on it and grew a conscience. I asked Janet to copy any files she found on Greg’s drive.” He levered himself up and said to Vic, “Let’s go through the files at the farm. It’ll be safer.”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  “We need to stop and get the thumb drive. I don’t want Janet emailing them.”

  “Good thought,” Jillian said. “Bad enough they have us targeted. We don’t need to endanger Janet.”

  * * *

  Vic dropped Jillian and Lynx off in front of Taylor Security to save Lynx—cripple that he was—the walk to the building from the parking garage.

  “I’ll be right up,” Vic said as Lynx shut the car door.

  Jillian rushed ahead and held the lobby door open for him. The rubber on the bottom of one crutch slipped on the marble floor—dammit—but Lynx recovered and steadied himself. He stopped, rubbed the crutch against the door mat in case something was stuck to it and forced himself to center his mind. Relax, buddy. Moving fast today wasn’t going to happen. He might as well accept it and figure out how to be effective.

  At the security desk, Willie, the beefy thirty-year-old night guard, rushed from his post to offer help. “Mr. Lynx, do you need a hand?”

  “I’m good, Willie. Thanks. Damned crutches are a pain in the ass.”

  “Yes, sir. Let me get the elevator for you.”

  Jillian put her hand on his back and gave him a vigorous rub. Her intention, he assumed, was to offer encouragement, but something felt off. He couldn’t place it but her touch was...forced. Cold even. Her lapses into silence since they’d left the ER and her stints of studying his body language were tells that she’d been thinking too much. His guess? She was running from her thoughts. Not unusual for her.

  Willie held the elevator door for them. “Thanks, Willie.”

  “No problem, sir.”

  The doors closed and Lynx hit eight. In the reflection of the doors, he saw Jillian staring at the overhead floor numbers.

  “Nice guy,” she said.

  “Yeah. He’s good.” He turned sideways and stared at her. “You wanna tell me what you’re thinking?”

  A ding sounded and the doors opened. “We’re here,” she said and followed him out, but an elevator wouldn’t keep him from getting answers.

  They stood in the quiet hallway outside the executive suite doors. They’d be locked by now and he had a key, but that would have to wait. The tension radiating from her was about to snap his normally controlled temper. Clearly, the painkiller had crapped out. “How about it, Jillian?”

  She looked at the floor, shuffled one foot, then the other. For a solid thirty seconds she did this shuffling thing while he concentrated on the small spikes of hair on top of her head. Despite her torn-up face, the sight of her brought peace and a sense of comfort. Even when she drove him crazy—like now—he was drawn to her.

  With one crutch, he nudged her foot. “Hey. Talk to me.”

 
; She brought her head up and slapped her hands over her face.

  Not a good sign.

  A few seconds later, she slid her hands down and tears filled her eyes.

  Ah, shit. He knew that look. “It’s the pain meds, isn’t it? You’re worried.”

  Slowly, she nodded. “I can see the Toradol is wearing off. You’re in pain.”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Her eyes stayed on his for a long moment. Too long. “I saw your reaction when the drug hit your system. It felt good, didn’t it?”

  “Hell yeah. My knee was barking.”

  “No. It was more than that. It took you somewhere. Somewhere you liked.”

  An annoying ticking in his ears started. Knee deep in shit and now, when she’d been sitting in that hospital with him, watching him battle with indecision, he had to justify why he’d taken the drugs. “Jillian, my knee was killing me. Of course I liked it. Who wouldn’t?”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “Then what are we talking about?”

  She linked her fingers together and squeezed until the veins in her hands popped. “I can’t do this, Jack. I know I said I could, but for the last three hours, all I’ve thought about is the way you looked when you got those drugs.”

  The elevator dinged, but to Lynx’s already ticking ears, it could have been a boom. The doors slid open and Vic stepped off. He stopped, looked at Lynx, then Jillian, then back to Lynx. “What’s up?”

  Did he have a few weeks? It would take that long to fill him in. Lynx watched Jillian unclench her hands and tilt her head to the floor. Not looking at him.

  There it is, pal. The big kiss-off. Maybe it had come sooner than he’d expected, but wasn’t this what he’d been concerned about from the first time he’d set eyes on her three months ago? That his infatuation would get him nothing but stress and the yearning to numb himself?

  Should have stuck with the plan.

  He pursed his lips, thought about his blown one-year goal and decided he needed to start over. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. Start from day one again. He’d done it once, he could do it again. At least this time he’d know what he was up against.