by Cherry Adair
She’d fought hard to get her life on an even keel after he’d dumped her, but maybe if she’d seen this expression on his face when he’d done it, instead of just hearing his voice, she would’ve gotten over it faster. There was no room for interpretation, seeing the disdain in his eyes when he looked at her now. Rand wasn’t even making a pretense at civility.
So be it.
She’d be as polite and nonconfrontational as humanly possible, even if it killed her. The past was the past. Water under the bridge. The bridge blown to hell, Dakota thought grimly as she practically jogged to keep up with his ground-eating strides.
He was wearing a shoulder holster with a very large black gun in it. James Bond had nothing on Rand Maguire, with his dark hair and flashing eyes, and a charm that was sorely lacking at the moment. Even the new scar here and there on his face and hands didn’t detract from his sexiness. Probably added to his allure, Dakota thought as she matched his pace.
Just looking at him made her chest ache. She knew every dip and crag, every scar, intimately. She didn’t want to remember, but being this close to him stole her breath and made her foolish heart pound. Her body’s reaction to him hadn’t changed in the years they’d been apart. Annoying but true.
The spacious hallway was lined with expensive-looking objets d’art and buff, black-garbed, well-armed guys standing guard outside various doors. Dakota was impressed. His company had grown and he was doing well, very well. The non-grudge-holding part of her psyche was glad.
Nobody in the room they’d just left appeared to have gotten much sleep. She’d bet he had even less. But other than needing a shave, he looked as fresh and sharp as a newly laundered shirt. Heavy on the starch.
The only plus was that he’d been taken unaware when he’d first seen her. Small satisfaction under the circumstances.
His dark hair was too long; he never could be bothered to go to the barber. His long-lashed dark eyes seemed to bore into her brain as he glanced at her when she caught up with him, halfway down the carpeted hallway. She felt a small hum of irritation in the back of her throat.
Don’t let him get to you. This isn’t personal. Remember that. She’d been lecturing herself since she’d left Seattle.
Not. Personal.
He paused to examine her face with a dissatisfied frown, his anger running icy, not hot like hers. “What the hell are you doing here, Dakota?”
Since she was here to help him, his irritation pissed her off, but she said evenly, “You know that the drug everyone in there was given was DL6-94, don’t you?”
His frown deepened, the cold mask slipping for a fraction of a second as he grabbed her upper arm in the vise of his fingers. “What the hell are you talking about?”
The warm touch of his hand after so long was a shock. Dakota jerked her arm out of his grip and stepped back out of his unwanted magnetic force field. “The drug your father and I were working on at Rydell Pharmaceuticals.” She strove for calm, but her insides were in revolt. “The drug formula that was supposedly destroyed in the explosion. The drug that one of my lab assistants referred to as Rapture. That’s what your wedding party was dosed with.”
His face hardened. “First of all.” If his tone had been any icier, it would’ve caused permafrost on the crystal chandeliers overhead. “You were in that room for all of ten minutes, so you’re basing your diagnosis on an erroneous assumption. Unless you—”He gave her a suspicious glare from hostile, narrowed eyes. “When did you hit town, Dakota? Yesterday?” He took an aggressive step forward, invading her personal space again. “Was this a sick experiment? Did you do it as some kind of perverted form of payback because I broke it off with you?”
“Don’t be an ass.” Her temper caught fire, and she curled her nails into her palms to keep from hitting him. She wanted to. Hard. And often. She wasn’t surprised to discover that now Rand Maguire brought out the absolute worst in her. It hadn’t always been that way, but it was that way now.
Heart thudding erratically, she lifted her chin and glared right back. Damn. She’d forgotten how big he was. He towered over her even though she wore heels. She stood a little taller and stared him down. He might be in an awkward situation with his clients, but she wasn’t going to tolerate being intimidated when she was here—like it or not—to help him. “Cole picked me up at the airport and brought me directly here. Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.” Pathological liar was the least offensive thing he’d called her in their last phone conversation. Slut, bitch, and opportunist had been some of the others. Based on what, she wasn’t sure. But he’d acted on his convictions by telling her he never wanted to see or hear from her again. Ever.
Since he lived in LA and she in Seattle, that hadn’t been hard to achieve. He’d refused to explain or to listen to reason. He’d rushed to judgment without a damned backward glance.
She’d learned a long time ago not to bother trying to explain herself to anyone. But it had hurt her deeply that Rand believed all those crappy things about her. She’d thought he knew her better than that. Obviously not.
She started walking—heading, she presumed, to the private elevator at the other end of the mile-long hallway. “You were the one who called Zak Stark and asked for help, Rand. I’m the best kind of help you have. I know what you’re up against.”
“I don’t need any more of your brand of ‘help,’ Dakota. Wasn’t killing my mother enough for you? Did you want to up your body count and kill off half of Hollywood as well?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that crap with a response,” she told him evenly. “You need me, and if you weren’t so pigheaded, you’d be grateful that I put everything on hold to come. I’m one of the few people left who knows everything there is to know about this drug.” She’d had nothing whatsoever to do with the drugs his mother had been given. Nothing. He hadn’t listened then, and she wasn’t going to try to convince him of her noninvolvement now. That wasn’t the issue at hand.
“DL6-94 is a fast-acting, powerful aphrodisiac. Less than a microgram is all it would take to get the reaction your guests had yesterday. Enough to cause a loss of all inhibitions. For most people, that dose would be a powerful aphrodisiac, but for some it will bring out equally strong emotions they’d be unable to control.”
He wasn’t looking at her as she spoke, but his strides slowed down, indicating she had his attention.
“It’s highly addictive and remains in the body. Eventually, if enough’s ingested, leading to death. And since I worked at Rydell, Zak Stark thought you could use my expertise. Believe me, he had to do a lot of convincing to get me to drop everything and fly here to help you.”
“How did he know what the fuck the drug was?”
“He didn’t.” She controlled her temper with some difficulty. “But since he knew I was a pharmaceutical chemist, he called and woke me in the middle of the night. We discussed the symptoms and what you’d described. I told him it might be Rapture. He asked me to come and help you. I told him in no uncertain terms that you wouldn’t accept any help I could give you. He insisted. I’m here. If you don’t need or want my help, I’ll be happy to have a vacation before flying back to Seattle.”
“How did Zak even know how to contact you?” his deep voice was soft and cold, his eyes hot. “Are you sleeping with him?”
Pigheaded ass. “I work for him.”
His brow went up. “Doing what? Supplying drugs to unsuspecting citizens?”
He knew which buttons to push, but she wasn’t going to react. “You don’t really think I had anything to do with drugging those people?”
Faster than she could blink, Rand had her pinned against the wall, his thick forearms bracketing her shoulders, the massive wall of his chest hard and unyielding against her breasts. Sensations assaulted her, the heat and smell of him yanking her inside out.
“I was talking about the past. But now that you bring it up—did you have something to do with what happened at the wedding?”
The f
amiliar heated sparks in his eyes forced Dakota to turn her head, leaving him breathing down her neck, literally. She shoved at him with both hands. “Keep making ridiculous statements like that, and you’ll get your wish. I’ll leave so fast your head will spin.”
“It’s quite a coincidence that you just happen to be here right in the middle of this mess.” He allowed her to push him away. The wash of cool air was welcome and stunning after her close encounter with the man who was both her worst nightmare and her biggest fantasy. “Zak shouldn’t have sent you. You’ve been misinformed—this isn’t what you think it is. The doctors we brought in believe the guests were given a high dose of Ecstasy.”
The scientist in her had to know for certain if this was her drug or just something similar. Please God. Don’t let it be DL6-94. The wish, the plea, the prayer were all useless, she knew. She was just desperate to be proven wrong. “It wasn’t E,” she told him flatly, straightening her jacket and hitching her heavy tote back onto her shoulder. “I can tell you that even without knowing all the details. I need to see the blood work. I presume you had blood drawn for analysis?”
“Of course. We should have the results back in a couple of hours.” He took the jacket one of his men handed him as he passed and shrugged it on. “You’ll be picking up some rich guy on the beach by then.”
“Oh, I certainly hope so,” she murmured sweetly. A surge of raw emotion flooded her system. Anger. Grief. Fear. It was an unhealthy cocktail. “Have you contacted the local authorities?”
“Not yet. Eventually an alphabet soup of authorities will have to be called in. For now we’re keeping a tight lid on it, with as few people as possible involved. Right now we have nothing.”
“You have what the drug is. You know where it was first manufactured. That’s something.”
He didn’t so much as glance her way. “Based on your word.”
Which according to him was worthless. “Based on my expertise.”
“I’ll take your opinion under advisement while waiting to hear from the experts here.”
Dakota put her hand on his arm. A mistake. She felt hard muscle and tensile strength. She remembered … She let go, not wanting to feel the heat of his skin through the layers of his clothing. Not wanting to remember the strength of his arms. “News flash, Ace. I’m the expert. Be it in Europe or back in Seattle. Get me that blood work and I’ll confirm that it’s Rapture. We’ll go from there.” She forced herself to calm her erratic breathing.
It took several long steps before he noticed she hadn’t kept up, but when he turned back to look at her, there wasn’t anything sympathetic—or even open-minded—about his expression. “I hate to break this to you, Dakota, but this isn’t about you. I’ll have one of my men return you to the airport. Go back to Seattle. I don’t have the time to wait out one of your moody sulks.”
She was neither moody nor sulky, and she resented like hell being accused of both. “When did I ever behave like that?”
“When I repeatedly tried to contact you after my father was arrested.”
She’d been in the hospital, in a medically induced coma, which he would know if he’d been less of an ass. The old hurt stung like new, but this wasn’t the time or place to clear the air. If she had to explain that, she’d lose it.
“I can help you, Rand. If you’ll let me. If not—” She lifted her shoulder and let it drop. “I know how to keep myself busy.” Give me something, anything, and I can track this guy down. She could hunt down the guilty party, sure, but having Rand around would make what she had to do easier. And with his expertise—safer. Not that she’d ever let him know and give him that kind of leverage.
“I don’t need—”
“You told Zak Stark you needed a tracker,” she cut him off, remembering with bitter amusement when she’d found his stubborn side attractive. “Here I am. I knew as soon as Zak shared those few details you gave him that this was the drug we worked on at Rydell. I know it intimately, inside and out. I lived it, breathed it, dreamed about it for four years. This is the antidepressant we worked so hard to perfect. Our one massive failure. Trust me. It’s Rapture.”
Rand stared at her, his hands deceptively loose at his sides. She continued, hoping this once he’d hear what she had to say without being defensive and shutting her down. “Ecstasy and Rohypnol take ten minutes or so to act; both lower inhibitions, and often result in amnesia. From what I understand, all those people affected had no inhibitions, and they all remember in painful detail what happened.
“This can’t be allowed to spread across Europe, Rand—we’ve got to stop it. This drug is more addictive than meth, and worse, is lethal in larger doses.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I told Stark the details in confidence.”
“A confidence that would be shared with the Lodestone agent he sent to help you,” she pressed, every bit as obstinate as he was. “Me. He knows I was a chemist, and we agree that I’m the best qualified to help you.”
“Was?”
She didn’t respond. Her life was no longer Rand Maguire’s business. “If DL6-94 is already in production, there’s a bigger problem than a handful of people getting their happy on. This has to be caught before it goes viral. This goes way beyond a few privileged wedding guests being embarrassed. It’s a matter of public safety. We’d better hope to hell that Rapture hasn’t gone into mass production, because if it has, we’re looking at a drug that will outsell crack, E, and everything else put together. There’ll be no stopping it. Right now I’m your best hope of finding whoever did this and finding out who’s behind it. I have the ability to trace this back to the source.”
“Alone?”
“Until I find who’s behind it, yes. Then Interpol will need to be called in.”
He cocked his hip, his gaze burning an acidic hole straight through her. “There can only be one person responsible for bringing that drug back into the mainstream, Dakota, and that’s you.”
“I’m not the only person who knew that formula.”
His laugh sounded rough. “First you make sure my father is accused of killing my mother. Now, when he’s securely behind bars, you’re accusing him of formulating this drug? Out of an Italian prison? Seriously? You’re crazy. And unwelcome. I don’t want you anywhere near my father. The trial starts in two weeks. If the press gets wind that you’re lurking about Europe, you and your crazy ideas are going to exacerbate the situation. Just leave.”
Dakota planted her feet, ready for a fight—one she had to win to prevent more innocent people from injury. “Like it or not, you need me. I have the skills to locate whoever assaulted the wedding guests. I’ll do what I need to do, with or without you.”
He gave her a cold look. “Like what?”
“Like none of your damn business.” She caught up with him as he started walking again, her footsteps muffled on the thick carpet. Her high heels put her eyes level with his mouth. His stern, well-shaped, annoying mouth. “Unless you’re willing to work together and keep things amicable, I’m not wasting time explaining anything to you.” She dragged her gaze back to his dark, unfriendly eyes.
“Would any of it be the truth?”
The truth would break you, you jerk. Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the heavy tote slung over her shoulder. Everything she’d brought on this trip was inside, as she’d purposely traveled light. “Go to hell.”
“Been there, done that, got the scars to prove it.”
He’d been a stuntman. The fool was covered with scars. “Who doesn’t.” After the lab explosion, she could match him scar for scar. “Do you really have a lead?” Not that she doubted his abilities; Rand always had a clear vision of what he wanted to do. When he decided on a course of action, nothing deterred him. He was the most decisive, focused man she’d ever met. He cared about those people back there, and he was going to deal with this disaster in the most efficient, expedient way possible. She’d been warmed by that caring once,
until he froze her, cutting her out of his life without a backward glance.
Not that she cared anymore. She squared her shoulders. “It makes sense for you to fill me i—”
He held up one finger to silence her. “Ham called in a lead,” he said into his lip mic. “Nobody on or off the floor until I give the okay.” He barely changed tone of voice as he added to her, not slowing down, “I can’t wait to get Stark on the phone. He better have one hell of a good explanation for this.”
“Be my guest,” Dakota snapped. She hitched her tote more securely onto her shoulder as she kept pace. Zak, smart man that he was, had put two and two together, come up with six, and had his plane readied for her. Zak had both sides of the story. Rand’s and her own.
He’d believed that she was the only one he needed to send to Monte Carlo. Filled with hope that she could clear her name once and for all, she’d flown through the night to get to Monaco in time for breakfast. She hadn’t been offered breakfast, but hope sprang eternal.
Rand slapped a hand on the call button and the ornate elevator doors glided open without a whisper. Dakota followed him inside and fought the urge to touch the plush gold-and-black wallpaper to make sure she had enough room to breathe. Claustrophobia was her Achilles’ heel, and being in a small confined space with a large, angry male made breathing difficult. Being in the same space as Rand made breathing almost impossible.
She looked up as the door slid closed, feeling as if she were trapped inside a jeweled box with a Baccarat crystal chandelier. Only a few floors, she assured herself. She had enough issues to deal with without this anxiety kicking in.
Rand seemed to suck all the air out of the already airless space. His shoulder bumped hers, reminding her how large he was—not just in essence, but in physical presence. A good man to have on your side. A really, really bad man to have as an enemy.
She knew both from experience. Her heart picked up the pace, and she had the crazy urge to lean against him. She resisted burying her face against his strong, tanned throat and wrapping her arms around his waist by reminding herself that he hated her. Still really, truly loathed her, after all this time.
