Dangerous Tides

by Christine Feehan

  18

  LIBBY woke to find Tyson gone. She lay for a moment staring up at the ceiling, feeling inexplicably happy. He was somewhere in the house and she had a good idea what he was doing, she'd just have to find the room. Whatever he'd been working out last night, he'd obviously decided he was on the right track.

  Wrapping herself in a sheet she walked through the house. Light was beginning to filter in through the windows, turning the rooms to a soft dove gray. She should have asked for a tour earlier, but they hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other and had barely managed to find the bedroom. It was a little spooky walking down the wide hall and peeking into the various rooms.

  Tyson had told her the house was five thousand square feet without the garages and she felt a little lost. She was used to a big house having grown up at the Drake family home, but the house seemed enormous without her sisters as she walked on the hardwood floors. The only two rooms she knew had furniture were the living room and master bedroom. She paused in the large kitchen to look around. Like all of the rooms, it was wide, open and gleaming. The tile was cool under her feet, looked like marble and picked up the colors in the counters. It was definitely her dream home and she still had to pinch herself to believe it wasn't all a hallucination.

  "What are you doing up, baby?" Tyson asked, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the back of her neck. "You should be sound asleep. Didn't I wear you out? I was doing my best."

  She reached behind her to find his neck, tilting her head back as she brought his face down so she could indulge in one of his long, sinfully sexy kisses. "I don't ever wear out. You've been up for hours, haven't you?"

  "After you went to sleep I got thinking about our conversation and the more I did, the more this idea just wouldn't let go." He kissed the corner of her mouth, swirling his tongue along the seam of her lips, kissed a path down to her throat where he nuzzled his face for a long moment, simply inhaling her scent. "How the hell do you manage to smell so good?"

  "What do I smell like?"

  "Sin. Sex. And peaches. Rain. It turns me on." He pressed his body close to hers so she could feel his heavy erection.

  "I woke up turned on. I knew the moment you were gone you'd thought of something brilliant. I have to say, that's a total turn-on."

  He lifted her to the kitchen counter, spreading her knees so she could wrap her legs around him. "So you like brainy men?"

  "Check for yourself," she invited, dropping the sheet.

  He slid his fingers over her soft mound, a slow exploration, dipping deep into the moist heat to find her slick and ready for him. "So you're a brain groupie."

  "Absolutely."

  He ducked his head to swipe over her hot bare lips with his tongue, savoring the taste of her, the fact that she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. He thrust against her clit, tormenting until her muscles clenched and she moaned softly, fingers digging into his shoulders. He straightened and caught her around her hips. "I'm keeping you out of the BioLab, where all the smart men are, but you can hang around my private laboratory. That way, when I'm on to something exciting you can strip naked for me."

  She slid her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, sliding forward until she could feel the head of his shaft pressed tightly against her, demanding entrance. "I'll strip naked for you anytime without you being on to something exciting," she confessed. She settled over him, closing her eyes as she felt him invading her, pushing through soft, tight folds to bury himself deep.

  "I'm still not letting you near BioLab."

  "Aren't you the smartest man there?" She lifted herself, began a slow, sensual ride, head thrown back, utter bliss transparent on her face.

  "Hell, yes," he answered, drinking her in. He'd never get enough of seeing her like that, wrapped up in sex, wrapped around him, that look of ecstasy on her face.

  "Well, then, you have no worries. I go for the man with the brains." She opened her eyes and smiled at him, arms tightening around his neck. "Silly. I love you. I don't care how brainy any other man is."

  His hands dug into her hips as he thrust hard. Waves of pleasure washed over him. "I should have gone after you the very first time I realized I loved watching you."

  "You're a little slow, Ty, but I'll forgive you."

  "Slow?" He thrust harder, deeper, picking up the rhythm until she was gasping and clutching at him. "I. Don't. Think. So." He gasped out each word.

  She laid her head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him, feeling surrounded by his body, by his love. Every hard stroke of his body drove him deeper into hers. She could feel every sensitive nerve ending rippling with pleasure. He was thick, driving through her tight folds, stimulating knots of nerves she hadn't known existed so that she gasped for air with each penetration.

  His fingers gripped her, lifting her to bring her body down over him as his hips thrust upward and his speed increased. Libby moved, tightening her muscles deliberately, using her body as if she were slow dancing seductively on a pole. The more his breath turned ragged, the more she responded by grinding down over him, and milking him with her tight, inner muscles.

  The orgasm rushed over both of them, taking them by surprise with its intensity. They clung to one another, trying to slow their hearts and recover their ability to breathe. Instead of allowing her legs to fall naturally to the floor, he eased her back onto the counter, kissing her over and over.

  She lost herself in his passion, her body still sizzling with pleasure, rippling around his with strong aftershocks. "I'm sure this is unsanitary," she pointed out when she could talk again.

  "We aren't using it for anything else," he said, reaching for a roll of paper towels. "I think this room is perfect."

  "Sanitary or not, I'm fixing you food and you're going to eat it, Ty, so you may as well resign yourself to telling me all about your new ideas on the drug before you disappear again. I'll leave you alone after you eat so you can work your little heart out."

  "I thought you said you didn't cook."

  She gave him a little smirk. "I didn't say it would be good, only that you had to eat it."

  "Fortunately for me, and maybe our kitchen, I forgot to buy groceries."

  "Nothing?"

  "Only the essentials."

  "And that would be?" Libby asked.

  He shrugged with a small grin. "Coffee and paper towels. I'm messy." He pointed to the coffee maker already filled with the dark liquid and then to her wet thighs.

  "You crazy man. I'll run to the nearest diner and get you something much more nutritious and substantial."

  He poured himself a cup of coffee. "I already had something nutritious and substantial. You're enough for me to live on. If you want to just lie on the counter, I'll do my best to devour you." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  "You know," she said casually. "I've been thinking of doing another article for the American Medical Journal."

  "Really? On what?"

  "Male multiple orgasms. You'd make a fantastic study. I'm thinking if we have sex a few times with you hooked up to an EEG . . ." She broke off with a little laughing cry of alarm as he put down his coffee mug and swooped down on her. "I was joking. It was a joke!"

  He wrapped his arm around her neck and ruffled her hair, ducking his head to kiss her again. "Get dressed and quit trying to tempt me. You can drop me at the other house, that way we'll both have a car. I need to talk to Sam and make a few phone calls. I have things at the lab I'm hoping didn't get ruined in the explosion. Most of the blast went to the left side of the room, damaging everything there, but if I'm lucky a few things escaped. We can meet back here later this evening."

  Libby noticed he hadn't mentioned food again. He was obviously eager to test whatever theory he'd come up with. She waited until they were both dressed and in the car, heading down the highway toward the Chapman house before she said, "You didn't tell me what you think about the drug."

  He shoved his h
and through his hair, a habit she'd noted when he was excited or agitated. "I think Harry was definitely on the right track. There's a good chance that this drug can be used to at least keep the cancer cells from growing-- much like hormone therapy for breast cancer. The problem is that the risk to adolescents is too high."

  "And you think you've discovered the answer to the problem?"

  "Depression can be caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain, right? We know that already. Serotonin helps sends electrical messages from one nerve cell to the other. In the process serotonin is released from the sender nerve cell to the receiver nerve cell where it is either released or travels back to the original sender cell. Depression can occur when the serotonin levels are out of balance."

  "Which is why antidepressants work."

  He held up his hand. "But not always the same in adolescent brains as in adult brains, right? There are problems even with those drugs."

  "That's true."

  "Near where the Ibenkiki cyperus plant grows in the Peruvian rain forest is a fungus called the Balansia fungus. It contains alkaloids and naturally infests the Ibenkiki plant. I thought the Balansia is the source of the medicinal properties, but Harry discounted my findings and only used parts of the Ibenkiki without Balansia. His theory is that the fungus is much like an invading cancer, taking over the cells of the plant."

  Libby frowned. "You're talking about ergot alkaloids. Many of the ergot alkaloids have a poisonous effect on the central nervous system. It can be very, very dangerous. That's how LSD was discovered. And I have to tell you I suspect, along with many others, that that's what led to the frenzy of witch trials here in America in the 1600's. The colonists ate poisoned rye and people hallucinated and went a little off the deep end. And before you argue with me, I'm very well aware, dopamine is a derivative and is used to treat Parkinson's disease and that ergot fungus is the base for many of the drugs fighting migraines."

  "It's all about serotonin. Don't you see that? It makes perfect sense. I know I'm right, Libby. I always feel it when I'm on the right track and this is it. The drug has to contain a certain amount of Balansia. We have to determine those amounts. The chemistry of the brain, particularly that of the adolescent brain, remains an essential field for investigation."

  She pulled into the driveway of his house. "Good luck, Ty. If you don't meet me at the house tonight, I'll come looking for you."

  "I'll be there. I've got a few errands to run, but I can't really work here in such a mess. I might be back and forth though, trying to salvage what I can." He leaned over to kiss her.

  "I'll pick up some groceries this afternoon and stock the house with a few supplies," Libby promised.

  Tyson slipped out of the car, his mind already racing with the possibilities. There was so much to do. First and foremost, he was going to call Edward Martinelli and let him know about the potential to fix any problems with the drug.

  Sam was lying on the couch, holding an ice pack to his face when Tyson let himself in. He shoved the pack under a pillow and managed a wan grin. "I didn't expect you. I took a couple of days off work. I figured black eyes and a broken nose and sore ribs were just a bit too much. I doubt I'd be of much use."

  Tyson hesitated, struggling to shift gears, trying to think of everyday details instead of allowing his racing mind to dictate that he ignore his cousin's needs. "Did you eat? I can get you food or something to drink," he offered.

  Sam's mouth gaped open. "What?"

  "I was just worried maybe you hadn't eaten," Tyson persisted, feeling a bit like a fool. "I can make you something."

  "Like what?" Sam challenged.

  Tyson shrugged. "Eggs with curry in them."

  "Curry?" Sam echoed faintly.

  "Curcumin is the yellow pigment used in curry spice and currently is being investigated for its potential in prevention of Alzheimer's disease. The curcumin appears to block and break up brain plaques that cause the disease."

  Sam stared at him for a long time. "You're giving me a headache, Ty. I don't want eggs with or without curry. I'm going to take a couple of sleeping pills and sleep the day away."

  Tyson nodded and started out of the room.

  "Where were you last night? You didn't call and I was worried. I knew you were going to talk to Ed."

  "I'm sorry." Tyson rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Ed said he never sent those men after you. I'm wondering if Harry had something to do with it. And yesterday I asked Libby to marry me."

  There was dead silence. The clock ticked loudly. Sam sat straighter, twisting his fingers together hard before looking up. "Are you sure that's what you want, Ty?"

  "I've known for a while. I bought a house close by. Things won't change that much, Sam. I'm only here three months out of the year as it is."

  Sam sighed. "If you're really sure, there isn't much I can say. I hope you're happy with her. I really do." His face brightened a bit, although his smile was still strained. "At least I can attend all the Drake family get-togethers. That's something to look forward to. The guys at the firehouse are going to be jealous." He stood up and made his way to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. "What are you doing today?"

  "I've gotten a lead on what might be causing problems with this drug. I need to salvage some of my equipment if possible, so I'll probably be in and out this afternoon taking things to the other house where I can work."

  "Don't worry, I won't hear a thing once I take those pills. I've only used them once and I was dead to the world." He went halfway up the stairs and paused again. "Ty?" He waited until Tyson turned around. "I am happy for you. If Libby Drake makes you happy, then I'm all for her."

  Tyson stood there, feeling a bit awkward, trying to hide the flood of emotion that acceptance from Sam had brought. He flashed a wide smile hoping it conveyed even a tenth of what he felt. "Thanks, Sam."

  Tyson called Edward Martinelli to get the okay to put his team on studying the healing properties of the Balansia fungus. He explained quickly his reasoning and that he wanted his team to study the brain of the adolescent, begin another study on serotonin receptor activity, and run analytical tests as well. He was rather proud of himself for remembering to ask how Martinelli's family was doing and wasn't surprised to hear Libby had been right. Both Eva and Robbie were in treatment for Chagas's disease.

  He had to run down the members of his team, none of whom were happy that their vacations were being cut short, but most of them agreed to return to the laboratory and begin work. Tyson spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening sifting through the wreckage of his lab and packing Sam's truck to take the equipment to the new house.

  It took longer to unpack the load at the house than he counted on and once he got there he could see that he had missed Libby. Towels hung in the bathrooms and there were groceries in the cupboard and refrigerator. Glancing at his watch, he realized he had time for one more load if he hurried.

  As he returned to the Chapman house, he could see Harry pacing back and forth on the front porch. For the first time ever Tyson had actually remembered to lock the front door and for this he was grateful since Sam was sleeping unawares upstairs in his room.

  Tyson sat in the truck, hands on the keys, debating whether he wanted to risk another unpleasant argument with Harry.

  "Get the hell out of that truck, you coward." Harry jumped off the porch, ignoring the three stairs. "You stole my project right out from underneath me."

  "I take it the director called you?" Tyson asked as he slid from the truck and shut the door. "You knew it was going to happen if you didn't look at the problems, Harry. Instead of spending all your time in Sea Haven, you should have been back at the lab working out the kinks with the drug. You knew when the first trial was completed that there were warning signs of trouble and instead of addressing them, you went on to the second trial. Not only did you endanger lives, but if you were interested in getting the drug on the market, you risked that as well."

  Harry doubled his fists and glared
at Tyson. "I'm getting out of BioLab. Martinelli backs you every time you want to run wild. All you have to do is call him and he calls the director and the rest of us have to kowtow to you. You think you're protected by him, but he can't hold your hand outside the lab. I'm taking you down, Derrick."

  "Are you threatening to kill me?"

  "I'm not stupid enough to threaten to kill you. You'd just run to your sheriff friend like a scared rabbit. Do I want you dead? Hell, yes! That would make my day. It would make my life complete and be a relief to the world. Believe me, I'd be ecstatic and so would most of the others working for BioLab. But before you ever die, I want you to lose everything important to you. Your godlike reputation. Your girlfriend. Your money. Your home. Everything. That's how much I hate your guts."

  "Go away, Harry. Don't take shortcuts and you won't have the problems you're always running into."

  Harry took a threatening step forward. "Don't give me any advice. The only reason a total antisocial misfit like you has a job anywhere is because you're Martinelli's stoolie."

  Tyson shrugged his shoulders. "I can't help you, Harry, because you're not bright enough to figure it out. You worked for three different companies before you came to BioLab and I knew your sloppy rep before you were ever hired. It's a small community."

  Harry spat on the lawn. "This isn't over. You've messed with the wrong man."

  "Harry, that's just nasty, but you're in good company. Cobras, camels and llamas spit. There are quite a few animals that express anger that way."

  Harry gestured rudely with his finger and stomped off. Tyson shook his head and went back into the house. Harry certainly was capable of slashing Libby's jacket to shreds and selling pictures to a magazine. He might even rig an explosion in the laboratory, but Tyson just didn't think he had the brains to rig an accident on a helicopter rescue. He paused halfway down the stairs. Maybe the harness had simply been defective. His fall could have truly been an accident. Harry certainly could have been behind everything else that had happened.

  Tyson thought of Harry Jenkins as an unintelligent, inept biochemist, but he wasn't. The man was capable of good work, he just didn't have the patience it took for research.