“Wha…? How…?” She pressed a shaking hand to her temple and sank down on the edge of the bed. Her legs had gone to water underneath her, and it was either sit down or collapse. “I-I don’t understand what’s happening. Have I gone crazy?”
“No, I’m really here. You’re not dreaming and you’re not crazy.” He laughed in a low rumble of sound that washed over her like a balm. He walked over to a small desk and picked up a file. “Figured you wouldn’t believe it until you saw the science.” He sat down beside her and offered the folder. “My medical records.”
He felt real enough. The weight of him on the bed beside her caused her to slide toward him. The clean soap smell of his hair, still damp from a recent shower, filled her nose. The feel of his skin as their hands brushed when she took the folder seemed real enough.
She opened the folder, read through. He had been re-infected, but his most recent blood tests were clean. Virus free. Except…he now had the antibodies. “How is this possible?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“You think Akeso still…” Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly a couple times as she tried to think it through. She shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I’d have to run tests and—” Abruptly, she remembered their conversation in his hospital room and shut the file. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not a science experiment.”
He took the folder from her hands and set it aside on the nightstand. “I was angry and scared. You can run whatever tests you need to, especially if what you learn from me will help people like Dayo’s family. But not today.”
“No,” she breathed and threw her arms around him. “Not today.”
He murmured to her in Cajun and stroked a hand over her hair as she let all the emotion she’d kept bottled up bubble over and spill out. It came out in gasping, wrenching sobs, and he held her through it.
It was him. It was him. It really was him.
“I was so afraid I’d lose you.”
“Not gonna lie,” he whispered against her temple. “I thought you’d lose me too, but I’m not going anywhere.” He caught her tears on his finger and whisked them away. “You’re stuck with me now.”
She sucked in a shaky breath and lifted her lips to his. “Good, because I love you, Cajun. You’re stuck with me, too.”
He laughed and kissed her back. It started out gentle and sweet, but like all things with him, it soon turned to heat.
She broke away and studied his face. “Are you well enough to make love?”
His grin all but sparkled. “If you’re on top, I think I can manage.”
They moved slowly, taking care not to hurt his damaged ribs as they undressed. He lay back on the bed as she rolled the condom on and told her all the deliciously wicked and dirty things he would do to her body once he was healed. His words sent pleasure spiraling through her even before she took him inside her body, and when she did…
Moaning, she rolled her hips, slow and easy, caught between wanting to pleasure him and fear of hurting him.
His fingers dug into her hips. “Ride me harder, cher.” His voice was gravel. “You won’t break me. Use me like your own personal fuck toy.”
She gasped as he bucked his hips, surging up just as she came down on him. Her entire body clenched and spasmed with the orgasm and she let out a long, low moan as the pleasure swamped her.
He continued undulating under her. “I love it when you do that, when you lock up around me and try to suck me dry. You’re gorgeous.” He reached between their bodies and found her clit. “Do it again for me.”
He knew exactly how to touch her to send her flying again. Almost immediately, she shuddered, crying out his name so loud everyone had to have heard it. The sound must have sent him over the edge because he roared out his own release, seemingly straining to bury himself even deeper in her body.
Fine by her.
When they were both spent, she collapsed to the mattress beside him, mindful of his abused ribs, and sighed.
He grinned over at her and lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Je t’aime de tout mon coeur.”
I love you with all my heart.
It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her.
“I love you, too.” She snuggled in beside him and just held on, still half afraid she was dreaming. She thought she wouldn’t be able to let go of him for a good long time, but as the postcoital glow faded, she noticed his wince of pain.
Alarmed, she sat up. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Worth it.” He stiffly climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom to clean up. He returned a few minutes later and slid back into bed, holding out an arm in an invitation to cuddle. She settled in beside him, taking care around his ribs when she draped an arm over his chest. Maybe he thought sex was worth the pain, but she didn’t like seeing him hurting.
“Do you have pain medication?”
“Yes, doctor,” he said with an exasperated eye roll. “I’ll take some in a minute. Just let me hold you right now.”
Not really satisfied by that answer—she suspected she’d have to force-feed him the pills—she rested her head over his heart. She had to hear it, make sure it beat strongly. She was still too shaken up, too raw from the fear of losing him.
His chest rumbled under her ear as he hummed a few bars of “The Piña Colada Song.” She smiled against his skin. She was starting to think of the song as theirs.
She joined in, then laughed when he stopped humming to scowl at her. “I’m not off-key.”
“You absolutely are.” How could such a smart man be so totally clueless to his own tone-deafness?
He bristled. “I’ll have you know—”
She propped herself up on her elbow and leaned over to kiss him. “Your mamere thought the world of you. She wasn’t going to tell you that you can’t carry a tune.”
Grumbling, he settled back into the pillow and frowned up at the ceiling. “You could at least humor me.”
So he wasn’t unaware of his tone-deafness. He just didn’t care. She admired that about him. She wished she was bold enough to unabashedly sing whenever the urge struck.
She straddled him, and smiled sweetly down at him as she slid her hands gently across his poor, battered chest. “You’re the best singer in the world and I fell in love with you that night in Martinique because of your rendition of ‘The Piña Colada Song.’”
“Smart ass.” He pinched her rear, then soothed a hand over the sting.
She should tell him she wasn’t fibbing, but she kissed him instead. She absolutely had started falling for him at that poolside bar in—
Martinique.
She broke the kiss and sat upright with a gasp.
Martinique. This all started at the Infectious Diseases Summit in Martinique.
“Claire?” Concern lining his brow, Jean-Luc sat up fast. He winced at the movement and put a hand over his ribs. “What is it, ma belle?”
She pushed away from him. “Ostermann is still a threat. He’s still planning his attack. He’d rather see the world burn than live with it as is.”
Jean-Luc ran a hand over her hair. “It’s nothing you need to worry about anymore. You’re safe now and—”
“No.” She waved away the soothing caress of his hand. “It’s not that. He told me he had his first attack planned in three weeks. Less than two weeks now. And this all started in Martinique…”
“So…?” Jean-Luc said, dragging the word out. “I’m not following.”
“I know where he’s going to start.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Ten Days Later
Worldwide Biothreats Conference
Poreč, Croatia
Claire gripped the rail of the hotel balcony. Despite the warm sunshine and calm expanse of turquoise water stretching before her, she couldn’t get warm. And yet sweat soaked through her blouse at her spine.
Jean-Luc slipped up behind her, rested his hands on her hips, and kissed the b
ack of her neck as he drew her against his chest. “Penny for your thoughts, ma belle?”
Even with his solid strength behind her, she couldn’t manage to calm her jangling nerves. “What if I’m wrong?”
“You’re not.”
She turned into his embrace and met his gaze. “This place, the hotel, the conference. It’s all so much like Martinique.”
“And that’s why you’re not wrong. Martinique went sideways for him, and Croatia used to be part of Yugoslavia, where his obsession with viruses began. You’re spot on with this—there’s no other place he could attack. He’ll see this as closure.”
She shook her head and thought of the virus still burning its way through the population of Port Harcourt. “So many people have died.”
Jean-Luc cupped her cheeks in his palms and kissed her lightly. “None of this is your fault, you hear me? None of it. Everything that’s happened is on Ostermann, and we’re going to take him down today.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against his chest. “I want him dead. I’ve never before wished death on anyone, but nothing would make me happier than to know that man no longer draws breath. I’m a horrible person.”
“Nah, you’re just human.” Using the curve of one finger, he lifted her chin until she met his gaze again. “My team can handle this. You don’t have to be here. Actually, I’d love nothing more than for you to get on the jet and put thousands of miles between you and this virus.”
She cupped his jaw in her hand. He hadn’t shaved in at least a week, and his beard stubble rasped against her palm. “Viruses are my job, Jean-Luc. Same as catching bad guys is yours. I wouldn’t ask you to stop doing what you love, so don’t ask me to walk away from this.”
“I get it. I do. I’d never ask you to stop your work with viruses, but psychopaths are not your job.”
“My research put him on this path.”
“No, cher. That lab of his in Austria was twenty years in the making. He was already running full steam ahead for years before he’d ever heard of you. He just saw an opportunity to control the outcome with Akeso.”
He didn’t get it. Maybe he never would, but she wouldn’t hold it against him. He was just trying to protect her.
She stood on her toes to kiss him. “I still have to see this through to the end.”
…
There he was, the smug bastard.
As the conference broke for lunch, Ostermann sat down at a table in the middle of the hotel’s busy restaurant and smiled to himself. He took out a small case and flipped open the top. Inside lay a syringe and a vial. He plugged the needle into the little bottle, drew out the contents into the syringe.
Jean-Luc felt Claire’s hand tighten convulsively in his. “He’s giving himself Akeso.”
Of course he was. He’d want to sit here in the middle of everything and observe his victims as they unknowingly breathed in DHF, and he couldn’t wear a respirator without drawing too much attention to himself.
“Do you think he’s kidnapped more people?” Claire asked.
“No. Harvard’s been watching for it.”
She shivered. “So he’s given up on trying to save the world. Now he’s just going to end it.”
“Not on HORNET’s watch.” Jean-Luc gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and checked the crowd. Everyone was in position to close ranks around Ostermann, and it wasn’t just HORNET. All of Tuc’s team had wanted in on this takedown, including Devlin, who was still healing from nearly getting crushed by the castle. Seemed like a bad idea having him hobble around a crowded hotel on crutches when the possibility of needing to make a fast escape was very high, but that wasn’t Jean-Luc’s call. If Tuc trusted that Devlin could still play his part then—
The fire alarm shrilled.
Seated only two tables over from Ostermann, Devlin and Harvard both calmly closed their laptops and joined the exiting crowd. They’d hacked the fire alarm.
Okay, yeah. Good distraction. It had worked at the hotel in Martinique to get folks out. Why not here, too?
Ostermann glanced around with an expression of dismay and started to stand.
“That’s my cue,” Jean-Luc said and gave Claire a quick kiss.
But she wouldn’t let go of his hand.
“Claire?”
“I’m sorry.” She released her grip. “Just…don’t get infected with anything.”
He winked at her. “No worries. I’m Deadpool.”
“You’re not funny,” she called after him.
Jean-Luc laughed and was still smiling when he slid into the seat across from Ostermann. “Surprise!” he said in German. “Remember me?”
Ostermann swore and fumbled a cell phone out of his pocket.
“Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Jean-Luc held up a finger, then pointed down. Ostermann’s gaze followed to the red dot on his chest. “That’s my friend Seth. He doesn’t miss, and Akeso is not going to protect you from a bullet, so why don’t you set that phone down on the table and let’s chat like civilized people.”
Ostermann hesitated, then grudgingly placed the phone in the center of the table. Far enough away that it looked like he was complying, but not out of reach. “You speak German flawlessly.”
“I speak a lot of languages flawlessly, Herr Ostermann.”
A soft hand settled on his shoulder, but he didn’t take his eyes off Ostermann. He didn’t need to look, knew it was Claire by her touch and her vanilla-and-spice scent. Instead, he enjoyed the hell out of Ostermann’s slack-jawed surprise.
“You thought she was dead, didn’t you? Thought she had killed herself in the lab explosion.”
Ostermann half rose out of his chair. “How— How—the reports…”
“Were exaggerated,” Claire said. “I’m alive and well, and thanks to you, I’ve developed a treatment for Delta Hemorrhagic Fever. My colleagues are testing it in Port Harcourt with promising results. We’re also working on a vaccine.”
Jean-Luc tsked. “Shouldn’t have gotten greedy and re-infected me. I still had Akeso in my body and all it did was kill the virus and produce the antibodies Claire needed. Basically, you shot yourself in the foot. We got you, Ostermann. We’ve rounded up your men, and your dispersal devices—the ones you placed around this room? They’re already in bio-containment on their way to— Oh, and this is the best part. You want to tell him, cher?”
She leaned over the table. “Tucker Quentin bought Bioteric Pharmaceuticals. We’re using your own labs to research bioterrorism countermeasures and make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”
Jean-Luc spotted a man he recognized approaching their table. Ra’id. He wasn’t really surprised. He’d called and told the guy this was going down today. Figured Ra’id deserved to be in on this takedown as much as anyone.
He grinned over Ostermann’s shoulder at the man. “Ah, this is turning into a regular reunion. Ra’id. As-salaam ‘alaykum.”
“Wa ‘alaykum salaam,” Ra’id responded with a tilt of his head. He looked healthy now, strong and proud, polished in a white linen suit and sky-blue tie. Nothing like the skinny, dirty, yellow-eyed man Jean-Luc had met three weeks ago.
“You remember our mutual friend Ra’id el-Masri, right, Ostermann? Turns out, I’m not the only one who survived your castle of horrors and I’m not the only one who wants to see you punished for your crimes.”
Ostermann about jumped out of his seat in his haste to get away from Ra’id.
“Yeah. So you know the el-Masri crime family then. Their reputation. You picked the wrong people to piss off.” He sat back, slung a casual arm over the back of his chair. “Personally, I think we should give you to them. The U.S. has all these pesky laws about how to treat criminals. Nothing we can do to you will be bad enough.”
“We could send him back to Nigeria,” Claire suggested.
Jean-Luc tilted his head as if considering it. “It’s an option, but Ra’id’s country…”
“I will show you exactly
how much pain a human can endure,” Ra’id said in Arabic, which Jean-Luc cheerfully translated to German just to make sure none of the meaning was lost.
“I’m trying to bring about peace,” Ostermann said tightly.
“Oh, yeah,” Jean-Luc said, heavy on the sarcasm. “I saw you dose yourself with Akeso. Seems like it’d be plenty peaceful when you’re the last living thing on earth, wouldn’t it? Except you’re not factoring in something important. You’re insane. You’ll never find peace.”
Ostermann’s scarred face flushed bright red, all of his logic and composure melting away to show the crazy underneath.
There was the real Steffan Ostermann.
He lunged for his cell phone. Jean-Luc grabbed Claire and pushed her toward the floor, but Seth never got the chance to take the shot. In one smooth move, Ra’id pulled a pistol from under his jacket and shot Ostermann point blank in the temple. His body dropped to the floor with a solid thunk.
He didn’t move again. After all, Akeso didn’t make you bulletproof.
“Oh my God,” Claire gasped.
Jean-Luc checked to make sure she wasn’t injured, then wrapped an arm around her and lifted her to her feet. He kept her face pressed to his side. She was a doctor, yes, used to all manner of blood and gore. But not this. She didn’t need to see this, because even though Ostermann was as bad as they got, she’d still carry his death on her conscience. That was just the kind of gentle, beautiful soul she was.
Ra’id calmly pulled a blue handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the fine mist of blood off his face. “Please know it has been a pleasure working with you, Jean-Luc.” He left the handkerchief on the table and holstered his weapon. The lines of the suit were so perfectly tailored to hide it, even a trained eye would have trouble picking it out. He held out a hand. “It saddens me to say this, but I suspect next time we meet, it’ll not be as allies.”
“I know.” Jean-Luc accepted the offered handshake and a kiss on each cheek. “But I will always consider you a friend.”
“As will I.” Ra’id bowed slightly, then walked away.
Reckless Honor_HORNET Page 26
