“Hey, Lincoln.” Jonas got up from a sofa before a giant television playing a football game.
Macon sat on a theater chair adjacent to that, not moving to get up. He had a tall drink in one of the chair cup holders, glancing over at Lincoln with a nod before returning his attention to the TV.
Lincoln hugged Jonas with a hard pat on his back. Then he introduced Sabrina.
Jonas took her hand and kissed the back of it like the son of a duke, his green eyes dancing with vitality. Then he noticed the ring.
“What’s this?” Straightening, he looked at Lincoln for an answer.
Sabrina slid her hand free from Jonas’s.
“Exactly what it looks like.”
“When did that happen? Does Mother know?”
“She will tonight.”
“I have a new sister.” Jonas beamed one of his famous smiles that had adorned the cover of many magazines at Sabrina. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you. You, too.”
Then Jonas said to Lincoln, “First Arizona, now you.”
“Maybe you’ll be next.” He grinned.
When Jonas raised his eyebrows, Lincoln added, “For real this time.”
“No, thanks. Too much trouble. I’m going to keep busy with my singing for now. I don’t have time for women.” He turned apologetically to Sabrina. “No offense.”
Sabrina smiled. “None taken.”
In jean overalls with a white T-shirt underneath and stylish boots, his mother appeared from outside, bobbed blond hair swinging. “Savanna said it was too far for her to drive.” She leaned in for a hug with Lincoln. “What’s this I hear about Arizona?”
“Lincoln’s getting married,” Jonas said.
From the chair, Macon turned a sharp look at them. Of all the Ivy clan, he had the least going for him. Drugs and alcohol robbed him of life. His mother had sent him to rehab more than once. Nothing worked. Right now his family tolerated him, and felt sympathy and helplessness over the whole mess.
The press had a great time with him, though. He was the quintessential bad boy of Hollywood. He’d done some interviews, and his photos sold millions to admiring women. But the truth was far less glamorous.
His mother recovered from shock. “Are you?” She looked from Lincoln to Sabrina.
“We haven’t set a date yet, but yes.” She glowed even more radiantly than before.
His mother inspected the ring and then looked at her son. “You must have picked this out.”
He lifted a palm. “Guilty.”
His mother turned to Sabrina. “He’s such a conservative.”
“That’s good, because so am I.” She smiled and Lincoln’s heart did a flip.
His mother kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy for you.” She patted his cheek. “You had me worried for a while.”
“Mother...”
“Maybe you and Arizona should have a double wedding?”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Checking on Sabrina’s reaction, he couldn’t tell if she liked the idea or didn’t mind it.
“Or not. I’d love to plan two weddings if you need any help. Arizona turned hers over to me.”
Lincoln had to laugh. “She knows how much you like doing that sort of thing.”
“That sort of thing is the beginning of the rest of your life.” She patted his cheek again. “Your dad’s manning the grill. I’d better go help him.”
As she left them, Lincoln asked Jonas in a low voice, “Why is Macon here?”
Jonas shrugged. “Mom called him like she usually does, and he showed up. She thinks he came because she told him about me, how I’ve changed my direction.” He snorted. “You know how she can be.”
“Lincoln, Jonas and Macon!”
Before Lincoln could go over and talk to Macon, he heard Autumn make her entrance. What a live wire.
She hugged him and then Jonas, and then went over to Macon and forced a hug onto him, leaning over so he didn’t have to get up.
“You smell like booze,” she told him.
“Nice to see you, too, Autumn. I read about you and that dude Deangelo.”
“You know none of it’s true.”
“None of it’s true about me, either. I also read about some new guy. What’s his name?”
“Knox.” She didn’t look happy.
“Uh-oh...” Jonas said. “Is that ending, too?”
Ignoring him, she turned back to the others. “Has Mom told you?”
“Told us what?” Jonas asked.
“I’m going to Iceland! I got a translating job.” She bounced happily up and down in her high, red shoes.
“That’s fantastic,” Lincoln said. “Who will you be working for?”
“A commercial developer needs someone to translate to some of their workers.”
“Why didn’t they hire someone local?” Someone who lived there.
“They’re a U.S. company.”
“How did you find that job?” Sabrina asked.
Lincoln answered for her. “She’s been wanting to go to Iceland for a long time.”
Sabrina looked perplexed. “Then...why not just go there?”
Jonas and Lincoln shared a knowing look, and together they said, “That’s Autumn.”
Autumn was going on an adventure. Lincoln met Sabrina’s eyes. His adventure was being right here with her.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from MOVING TARGET by Kimberly Van Meter.
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Chapter 1
Katherine “Kat” Odgers fought the urge to cry.
“No,” she breathed, staring at her research and back again at the rhesus monkey she’d secretly named Auguste after the first clinically diagnosed Alzheimer patient who lived in the late 1800s. The monkey didn’t seem to know what to do with the banana she’d tried to give him. Worse was the fact that he seemed to have lost the ability to do anything a monkey would normally do.
“C’mon, Auguste, don’t do this to me,” she said, reaching into the cage against protocol. The monkey, frightened, climbed into her arms like a baby and clung to her as if she were its mama. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.” She gently administered a sedative and carried the monkey over to a machine geared toward mapping his mental acuity. As she waited anxiously for the machine to do its work, she bit at her fingernails, nibbling at the near-nonexistent sliver of nail, worried and scared—not only for Auguste but for her research.
Had something gone wrong? Had she missed something?
Three years’ worth of careful, painstaking research, animal trials that showed brilliant, exciting promise in the area of Alzheimer’s research, all hinged on the results of that scan.
The machine finished and after returning Auguste to his cage, she stared at the monitor, reading the results with a sinking heart and a nauseous stomach.
Her drug, MCX-209, was supposed to repair the brain but instead...it had destroyed it.
Somehow she’d missed something crucial, because according to Auguste’s scan, the area that stored memory was less wrinkled and nearly smooth in places. His memories had just disappeared courtesy of MCX-209. “I fail
ed,” she murmured, tears springing to her eyes as her stare returned to the unconscious Auguste. “And I’ve ruined poor Auguste.”
Bad. Bad. Bad.
She wiped at her running nose and searched for a tissue. She’d been so close. So close to victory over this insidious disease, but now all was lost. Her boss would likely can her for failing so miserably. So much for being a so-called genius. She was so smart she’d found a way to destroy brains without leaving a mark. Brilliant! Yes, she could just imagine the scientific journals already, lauding her for her failure to help a single person suffering from Alzheimer’s. Better polish up that résumé, she thought miserably as she collected herself, shuffling to the tiny mirror over the sink.
Her hair hung in its usual disarray, refusing to stay put no matter how many pins she used to try to hold it together. She pushed a strand behind her ear and adjusted her glasses with a disheartened frown as the same face she’d been born with stared back. Not exactly a heart-stopper. As far as career choices go, stripping was not going to be a viable plan B. She had no breasts and she was horribly clumsy, she reminded herself. One attempt at gyrating on a pole would end with someone getting a stiletto in the eye as she careened from the stage, arms and legs akimbo.
Science had been her only gift. And now? Clearly not.
And poor Auguste. He’d been the cutest of the monkeys. Now he was a drooling mess.
She didn’t even know if the results were permanent or temporary. Kat blew an irritating strand of hair from her eye. Time to pay the piper. She had to write up her findings and let her boss know that MCX-209 was a total, abject failure.
* * *
Jake Isaacs stood respectfully as his superior Miles Jogan walked into Jake’s office, his expression stern. “Take a seat,” he advised Jake as he dropped a file on Jake’s desk. “I have a job for you—one I would only trust to you even though you’re no longer working the field.” Jake took the folder and opened it, his interest piqued. “What you’re about to read could change the world.”
Jake scanned the file, a subtle widening of his eyes the only indication that the information had troubled him. “Who is she?” he asked, regarding the file photo of his subject. At only five feet four inches and one hundred and fifteen pounds—petite—with long wavy light brown hair and very thick black glasses that hid half her face, Katherine Odgers wasn’t portrayed in a flattering light. “And why does she matter to the Defense Intelligence Department?” he asked, closing the file.
“Dr. Odgers is the hottest ticket in town,” Miles answered, causing Jake to frown. “That woman has just changed the world we live in by creating one of the most dangerous drugs known to man.”
“What does it do?”
“The drug, MCX-209, erases memory—permanently. Yet, it leaves other brain functions intact.” Miles watched Jake’s reaction. As the implications tore like a forest fire through Jake’s mind, Miles nodded. “This is why it’s imperative that you collect Dr. Odgers and bring her to Washington for her own safety. All other attempts to persuade her have been unsuccessful.”
“And what attempts were those?” he asked, taking a second look at the woman in question.
“Naturally, a woman of her caliber would be an asset to the DID,” Miles said. “We made quiet inquiries as to her interest in moving from the private sector to government work but all inquiries were rebuffed.”
Jake shrugged. “Government work isn’t for everyone.”
“It certainly didn’t seem to appeal to Dr. Odgers that’s for sure. The fact of the matter is, we’ve run out of time for civil negotiations. We need to secure Dr. Odgers before her work falls into the wrong hands.”
“How many people have access to this drug trial?”
“Only her superior, and we’ve taken care of that weak link.” Jake lifted a brow in question and Miles said, “Alive and well but decidedly spotty in recollection of what Dr. Odgers was working on.”
“And her research materials?”
“Removed from the laboratory and placed under lock and key. All I need you to do is procure the doctor.”
“If she resisted the idea of working for us, what makes you think she’s going to want to come with me willingly? Seems a fine line we’re walking here.”
“Unfortunately, at this point it is necessary to procure Dr. Odgers whether she appreciates the U.S. government’s help or not. It’s vital that her research doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Jake knew that sometimes the U.S. government found it necessary to operate under the radar for the good of the people but it always made him feel dodgy when the lines were blurred. And this felt a lot like blurring the lines. “Perhaps she’ll change her mind and come willingly after we explain the danger she’s in,” Jake said.
“We don’t have time to hold her hand and hope she makes the right decision. I have it on good authority factions within organized crime and corrupt dictatorships are licking their lips at the prospect of stealing Dr. Odgers’s work and using it for their own devices. Our friends in North Korea are quite keen to get their hands on Dr. Odgers, and I can assure you, that will end badly for everyone involved,” Miles pointed out with grave certainty. “Including Dr. Odgers.”
A drug such as MCX-209 in the wrong hands would certainly upset the balance of power. What if someone drugged the president of the United States with that concoction? Or each member of Congress? A drug like that could ruin the United States of America, reduce it to ash within months as enemies—such as North Korea—jumped at the chance to attack when the country was at its most vulnerable. Jake shuddered at the thought. Even though the mission didn’t leave him with a good feeling, he knew the alternative wasn’t palatable, either. He nodded to Miles. “I’ll leave for San Francisco in the morning,” he told him.
Miles offered a tight approving smile. “Bring her straight here. This mission has the highest security clearance. I don’t want to run any undue risks.”
“Consider it done.”
“You’re a good man, Isaacs,” Miles said. “You do your country proud.”
* * *
Kat had just popped a frozen dinner into the microwave when the doorbell rang. Her uncle Chuck would’ve freaked out if he knew what kind of processed junk she ate these days, she thought idly as she ignored the bell. She’d never quite caught his talent for the culinary arts. Once he was no longer in charge of her meals, her cooking skills had rapidly deteriorated. She liked to justify that she didn’t actually have time to spend tinkering in the kitchen but the truth of it was, she just wasn’t any good at it. She frowned, glancing at the clock when the doorbell sounded again. Too late for churchgoers on their rounds to convert the masses but not quite late enough for vacuum salesmen trying to wheedle their way into her cramped apartment to wow her with their products’ suction power in the hopes of selling one of their exorbitantly priced units. She sighed and wondered if she didn’t answer would they go away and bother someone else? They ought to hit up Mrs. Friggen. That old lady would buy anything, and had, judging by the number of times UPS delivered to her door. It was a wonder Mrs. Friggen had any social security left to spend. Kat had a feeling the older woman kept QVC rolling in dough.
Giving up the doorbell, whoever was at the door resorted to knocking forcefully. Hmm...persistent bugger. The microwave dinged and she carefully removed the steaming offering of processed cheese and spiraled noodles, her stomach already growling in ready anticipation. As a scientist she knew there was absolutely no nutritional value to what she was about to consume but her taste buds didn’t care. She was only two generations removed from Southern white trash, according to the genealogy trace she’d done for fun two years ago, and she loved herself some old-fashioned carb-loading—much to her uncle’s chagrin.
She grabbed a root beer to wash her meal down and prepared to hunker in front of the TV and catch up on her favorite DV
Red shows—Renaissance Revelry was her favorite! But just as her behind hit the recliner, the knock sounded again, only this time, there was a stern voice attached to the incessant pounding. “Dr. Katherine Odgers, open the door or I’ll be forced to open it for you.”
What? If that was a vacuum salesman, they’d really become more aggressive than she remembered, but the warning tingle in her stomach told her that whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t trying to sell her anything and she wasn’t so stupid that she’d comply with their demand to be raped or murdered.
“Go away,” she squeaked, trying for bravery. “I have the cops on speed dial. They’re coming right now. Run before they catch you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Police brutality is at its all-time high from what I’ve read in the papers. You better run if you don’t want a face full of pepper spray or, worse, a zap from a Taser.” She held her breath, biting her lip. Did it work? Where was her cell phone? Drat it. This was her karmic punishment for being so focused on her project that she never remembered where she put a darned thing the minute it left her fingertips. “I swear, they’re on their way!” she bluffed, hoping they didn’t hear the pathetic tremble in her voice. She shoveled a bite of macaroni in her mouth, burning her tongue in the process but she didn’t care. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going to go without one last pleasure!
There was a rustle on the other side of the door and she heard the distinct sound of a key slipping into a lock and suddenly she was staring at the super, Henry Willits, as he opened her door for a suit-wearing stranger.
“Henry! What are you doing?” she asked in a strangled voice, unable to believe sweet Henry had just let a possible murderer into her apartment, simple as you please. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Kat, but he’s got official business with you that I don’t want to get in the middle of,” Henry said, ducking his gaze in apology before casting a quick, wary look at the austere stranger. “He says he’s from the government.”
Kat sat up straighter. “The government?” Her gaze flew to the man who was striding toward her with clear purpose, staring at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” she gasped when he stood before her, assessing her boldly and causing her cheeks to flush.
Armed and Famous Page 24
