Had it been only two days? My God… So much has happened.
Still, she’d never experienced such consuming feelings before. She wasn’t the type to give in to infatuation. Was it the thrill and horror of all that had happened? The rational part of her mind would make it easy to write it off as such, but in truth, there was more to it. She couldn’t deny she felt something special for Cyrus. She was usually a very rational person, pragmatic and deliberate in her decisions. He had an effect on her, and she liked it.
This was not a rational time. Her world was being turned upside down. The only one who seemed to have any bearing at the moment was Cyrus. It seemed logical for her to be drawn to him at such a time. He was good under pressure, and he made her feel safe. Was that all she was feeling? Was she really attracted to him, or was it that he buoyed her in a time of extreme turbulence? She still wasn’t sure how he’d saved her at her apartment, or how he had identified Chad as their leak. There were so many things she didn’t know about him—so many things she wanted to know.
Were her feelings a mistake?
She thought of their first kiss and the rush it had brought. And the tingle she felt being close in his arms. Never wanting it to end. No… There was no doubt that things were out of control, but there was one thing she knew with absolute certainty. The feelings she had, the comfort he brought, it was all real. And her feelings were growing stronger with time. She didn’t know where the future would take them, but it was the only thing about the last week that felt solid and real.
“Did you get lost? You were gone a long time.” She needed to clear her mind. There was time enough to worry about these things later. She closed her book and set it aside. It was one of the three bodice rippers she had swiped from the shelf in Cyrus’s apartment. Of course her choice in reading material hadn’t done anything to help her cool her jets while she waited.
Reese threw her fluffy down comforter aside and followed Cyrus to the kitchen. After her bath, she’d dressed in a comfortable pair of black yoga pants and a form-fitting, dark gray tank top. It was casual attire, the most casual she’d worn in front of him so far. But she was planning on a comfortable night in, and besides, she liked the way she looked in the outfit. The way they fit her body left little to the imagination. It was low key, but admittedly, she had aspirations for where the evening might lead.
When she reached the kitchen, Cyrus had his back to her. He was taking plates and glasses down from the cabinet. Reese noticed his discarded jacket lying on the end of the counter. It was dirty and torn. She was going to ask about it when he turned.
Her jaw dropped when his face met the light. The entire left side of it was purple and swollen. His hairline was caked with dried blood. More blood had coagulated along his left ear. The right side of his face had fared better. It was swollen but wasn’t as discolored, and it wasn’t bleeding.
“My God!” she gasped. “What happened!”
Cyrus smiled, but he kept arranging the place settings, as if his appearance were the most natural thing in the world. He tore into the two paper takeout bags and started setting out food containers.
“I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” he said mildly.
When there was no response, he finally stopped and looked her in the eye. She realized her hand was covering her mouth. All she could do was stare in shock.
“No, really,” he assured her. “You should see the other guy.”
“Jesus, Cyrus,” she muttered, finally found her voice. “No joking—what the hell happened? You went to New York—Manhattan. Were you mugged?”
Cyrus laughed. “No, not mugged. But I think we have another security issue. Someone has at least some of the transport sites under surveillance. As soon as I arrived, I picked up a tail. I lured them into an alley so I could get as much information out of them as possible.”
“I’m sorry, did you say them? As in more than one?”
Cyrus grinned sheepishly. It was that coy smirk that she was growing to both enjoy and lament. “It was a three-man team, just like Chicago. All three Eastern European, just like Chicago.”
Reese closed her eyes and took a deep breath. How did he do this? She was feeling queasy just thinking about what little she knew. He had lived through it. But it seemed of little concern to him. “You intentionally drew three men into a dark alley, so you could interrogate them? How did that work out for you?”
The look Cyrus gave her was quizzical, but so matter of fact that she couldn’t help it. She cracked a smile. A moment later they were both laughing.
“Come on, lets get you cleaned up,” she said.
“That can wait,” he urged. “The food’s getting cold.”
Just shaking her head in reply, Reese took his hand and led him from the kitchen and into the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom. She pointed to the whirlpool tub. “Have a seat,” she ordered. “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”
She went to the closet and pulled out a large, blue, plastic box with a bold red cross emblazoned on the lid. Laying it out on the counter for easy access, she looked back to where Cyrus sat on the edge of the large tub. “We only picked this thing up the other day. I never expected we’d be using it—certainly not before the week was out.”
“Stick with me, Reese. I’ll show you things you never dreamt of!”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Stepping back, she was concerned about the amount of blood on his shirt. “Better take it off,” she said pointing at his shirt.
“It’s okay,” he grinned. “It’s not my blood.”
She arched a brow and didn’t know what to make of the statement. Was that a good thing? It must be, right? Yes, she decided. She didn’t want it to be his blood…but what had he done to the other guy? Other guys? Blowing out an exasperated breath, she waved a hand. The shirt had to go. It was trashed.
It took a little effort but Cyrus pulled the shirt free. The blood had matted to his skin. Reese could see that his movements were awkward and clumsy. He was no doubt becoming stiff and sore as the effects of his injuries settled in. Finally getting the shirt over his head, Cyrus tossed it into the corner of the room. It hit the tile floor with a wet splat.
Struggling not to gasp out loud, Reese felt a sense of vertigo seeing his bare chest and ribs. They were dark with red and purple abrasions. There would soon be extensive bruising. His face and head had taken a beating, but apparently, that paled in comparison to the rest of his torso.
What the hell had happened in New York? He only went to pick up takeout!
She wet a washcloth in the sink and went about gently cleaning the abrasions on his face and hairline. She chose not to say anything more about the bruising on his torso. “You can always be counted on to do the unexpected. For example, who in their right mind would take three dangerous men into a dark alley with the intention of interrogating them? Is it safe to assume that they were armed?”
“They were.”
“Is it safe to assume they resisted your attempts to extract information?”
“They did.”
Reluctantly, she smiled. “You learned something anyway, didn’t you?”
Cyrus smiled. “See, you do know me!” There was a bemused playfulness to his manner the belayed his devastated physical condition.
Reese rinsed the rag in the sink and knelt before him once more. She began cleaning the abrasions on the other side of his face. All things considered, they were rather minor. There was a small cut to the scalp that bled down the side of his face but it didn’t even need stitches. Just a thorough cleaning and it would likely heal in a day or two. The purple swelling on the side of his head was actually the worst of it. Except for the back of his head, where a significant bump had formed. Calling it a goose egg wouldn’t do it justice.
She couldn’t bring herself to ask about it. He’d obviously taken a serious blow. It was enough to make her start paying more attention to the responsiveness of his eyes. It was one bit of good news. His pupil response seem
ed normal. She decided to watch that for the next few hours. Still, he had to have one hell of a headache. She felt queasy just running her fingers over the knot.
She couldn’t help thinking that he looked as if someone had used him as a punching bag. His witticisms aside, it made her wonder what the other guys really did look like. Truth be told, she was still achy and sore from being knocked around during the abduction attempt at her apartment. By comparison, Cyrus looked as if he’d played Wile E. Coyote in an episode of the Looney Tunes Road Runner cartoon.
She worked diligently at cleaning the abrasions, at one point pulling what appeared to be small chunks of asphalt out of his hair. She tried hard to keep focused on the task at hand. She was very aware of his close proximity and his musky scent while she worked. She could feel his breath on her skin, even feel the heat radiating from his body. She felt the curious flutter in her chest and an unexpected weakness in her knees.
This was terrible. She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.
It was wonderful. Ahh!
As soon as she set to wiping the dried blood from the side of his ribs, she found something unexpected. It turned out that some of the blood on his shirt was his own. Somewhere in the scuffle he’d taken a blow to the ribs that had broken skin. Apparently it didn’t hurt, but it had bled. The gash was wide and fairly deep. It needed stitches.
It wasn’t something Reese had experience with, but she knew Cyrus wasn’t willing to go to the emergency room. So she dug into the medical kit, screwed up her courage and set about suturing the wound. Fourteen stitches later she tied off a somewhat clumsy knot and was finished.
Cyrus studied her handy work and gave her a proud nod. “I think you missed your calling. You sure you’ve never done that before?”
Reese felt her cheeks flush. She was pretty sure he was humoring her. The entire experience had been without grace, and she’d torn his skin on at least two occasions. She feared she might have done just as much harm as good. At least she finished without vomiting!
Somehow he gave her a sense of confidence she hadn’t had before. If someone had told her a week earlier that she would be stitching up a bloody flesh wound, she would’ve sworn they were crazy. Now, as much as the idea didn’t appeal to her, she was pretty sure she could do a better job, if she had to do it again.
It was interesting that Cyrus had sat through the entire procedure offering a supportive tip here or there when she needed it, but never once had he so much as winced in pain or made a comment regarding her clumsiness with a needle. She hadn’t even used a local anesthetic. Still, even for the experience that it was, she was proud to make it through. Maybe some emergency medical training would be a useful skill somewhere down the line.
“What’s this?” Reese asked.
She was pointing at a nasty scar on his abdomen, just above the belt of his jeans. It had once been a ragged wound that had not been stitched professionally. What remained was a prominent scar. She ran her finger slowly along the two-inch-long, pale line that was long since healed.
“A keepsake from the old days,” Cyrus said dryly. “A reminder that things don’t always go according to plan. And when that happens, people get hurt.”
“It looks like you really got hurt,” she said quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Cyrus looked her in the eye and studied her gaze for a few moments. He shook his head only slightly. “I wasn’t the one who got hurt. There was a lot of collateral damage.
“I’d be happy to talk about it…someday. Just not right now. And it’s never a good idea to dump all your personal crap on someone you’re really interested in. We’ve got a good thing going. I don’t want to mess it up with old baggage.”
A sadness had settled into his eyes and she sensed a deep seated pain behind whatever had happened. He offered a weak, forced smile. She would leave it alone. They would talk about it when he was ready. In any case, she suspected he had a great many interesting things he might one day share. She hoped they would have the time together to find out.
“Okay,” Reese said. She wanted to change the subject. She had plenty of other questions to ask. “You think someone is watching the platforms?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” he said. “They may not know about the platforms themselves, but they seem to know about the locations where they’re kept. There’s no logical reason for these guys being all over me as soon as I arrived in Manhattan. They did the same thing in Chicago. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“That would mean that someone on the team sold us out. Is this part of what Chad did?”
Cyrus thought for a moment. “It seems unlikely. The crews in Chicago and New York were more professional than the Mexicans at your apartment. The same with the bomb on Alfie’s car. That was really clumsy. Right now, as unlikely as it seems, I’m thinking we’ve got two parties trying to get their hands on Meridian.”
“You think there might be a second leak?” She didn’t want to believe it, but that seemed like the only explanation.
“It’s possible,” Cyrus admitted. “But it could be more complicated than that. The good news is that I recognized one of the guys from tonight. I know where to start looking for a second leak.
“You know, now that I think about it, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
She glanced at him expectantly for a moment before returning to work cleaning a wound. “What’s that?”
“When we were talking with Chad, you mentioned that Meade had paid off the student loans of everyone on the research team. Tell me about that.”
“Oh, yeah! That was unexpected. We found out about it after he passed. His lawyer, a guy named Underhill—”
“Underwood?”
She looked at him in confusion for a second. “That’s it, Underwood. Anyway he came by the office. Said he was settling Walter’s estate. Walter had made arrangements for each of us as part of his will. I guess he knew each of us had student loans we would be paying on for the rest of our lives. He had a provision in his will that paid them off. That’s how the lawyer, Underwood, explained it.”
“Was Meade wealthy?”
Reese stopped working to consider the question. “You could say that,” she said. She looked up into Cyrus’s eyes. “Obviously, he had this place. But I don’t think he ever brought anyone here. I’ve been here before, but that was only because he knew I didn’t have family. I would sometimes spend Thanksgiving or Christmas here with him. But he made a point of keeping this place to himself.” She thought for a moment. “But, yeah. I’d say he was wealthy. He had a number of patents that brought in a steady income. He could’ve lived comfortably off those, if he chose to.”
She thought again, looking at Cyrus suspiciously. “Walter left you this house and the land it sits on, but you didn’t know he was wealthy?”
She saw confusion in his eyes.
“I guessed as much,” she admitted. “But I would’ve expected Underwood to explain that when you took possession of the property.”
She watched his eyes carefully. “In addition to this house, Walter owned most of this mountain. That became yours along with the house.”
Judging by the look Cyrus gave, this was all news to him. He actually looked a little dizzy at the realization. “Underwood must’ve left that part out,” he admitted.
“If he did, it was at Walter’s request. If I had to guess, knowing what I do about you, he might’ve thought you wouldn’t accept the gift if it were too lofty.”
The shy look on Cyrus’s face told her she wasn’t far from the mark.
“He told you about his patents?” he asked.
She laughed. “Well, no, actually. I only found out about them when Underwood visited.”
She was reluctant to continue with the next part of the story. To his credit, Cyrus didn’t push. He waited patiently until she was ready to continue.
“He informed me that Walter left the patents to me in his will,” she said final
ly.
The surprise was clear on Cyrus’s face.
“I know!” she said. “That was my reaction! I guess it was for lack of a better option. He didn’t have any family either. He could have set something up and left them to charity… I’m really not sure why he left them to me,” her voice trailed off, as she contemplated the question.
“It’s not that hard to imagine,” Cyrus said with confidence. “He always spoke very highly of you. He had profound respect for you. I’m actually not surprised he left them to you. I shouldn’t be surprised he had some patents tucked away making good money, either. He was a brilliant man who had a very long career.”
“Well, anyway,” she said. “It’s my understanding that the proceeds from those patents spent a lot of time accruing interest in a bank somewhere. And that was used to pay off the loans. That much was classic Walter. He would’ve wanted to make sure everyone was taken care of.”
Cyrus nodded. “Yeah, that I can see. But something occurred to me when we were talking with Chad. The team was working on a project they knew would change the world. But they knew the Professor wasn’t going to capitalize on it. When he made that decision, he was really making that choice for all of you. It was a unilateral decision. No one had a say in it.”
She nodded.
“So in Chad’s case, he felt slighted,” Cyrus continued. “He felt he was sitting on the chance of a lifetime, and Meade wasn’t going to let him or any of the others cash in. They were making their salary working on the project, but they didn’t have a stake in the bigger picture. To me, that gives every one of them motive to do something stupid, just like Chad.”
“But Walter would’ve taken care of them. He wasn’t going to let them go uncompensated,” she countered.
“Did they know that?” he asked.
She didn’t know what to say.
“Did Walter ever make arrangements with the team? Did he ever give them a reason to think they’d be compensated in some way?”
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