Her Lost Lover

by Jade James

  “It sounds like you’ve already made your decision. Is this something you want to do?” she whispered to him as she maintained her distance from him. “I don’t see you enough as it is with the hours I work, Devin. It would be like not seeing you at all if you take this job.”

  “Miranda, we can make this work. I need something more in my life. I live for this type of work. Knowing I can make a difference fills a void in me. Amor, I’m asking you to understand that I need this.”

  “I want what makes you happy, Devin, but can’t you get something that doesn’t require any traveling? This situation will just make us grow further apart from each other.”

  And that’s exactly what had happened. He had taken the job against her wishes and had been gone for a month on his second assignment. Everything about capturing criminals and defending the weak filled a gap in his life that he hadn’t known was missing. It hadn’t been about the money. It was more an issue of how he was making a difference in the world.

  Unfortunately, it changed everything between him and Miranda, and then he had returned to an empty home. Miranda left everything behind, only packing up her essentials.

  Lost in the haze of pain, he mentally replayed the anguish and betrayal he felt at the time. It took immense willpower not to follow her then, and instead allow her to lead the life she wanted. He hadn’t even called, figuring the hurt would lessen with time.

  But with each passing second, Devin had missed her fiercely. There were times the loneliness became too much, and he felt as if a massive hole had been dug into his heart.

  Devin flipped open his cell phone and dialed Mark’s number. He wanted to make sure no one told Miranda he was on his way back.

  “Mark speaking.”

  “It’s Devin.”

  “Ah…I expected to hear from you sooner,” Mark replied.

  “Lincoln told me this morning. I took the first plane in. How is she?”

  “She’s fine. Doctor says she has a mild concussion and should get plenty of bed rest. Are you on your way here, now?”

  “As we speak. Does she know I’m coming?”

  “I haven’t told her anything…yet.”

  “Look, do me a favor. Don’t say anything to her. I want to speak to her face-to-face. I should be in Manhattan in about twenty minutes. Mark, guard her with your life.”

  “She’s safe with me. Don’t worry.”

  “Thanks man. I owe you one,” Devin said and snapped his phone shut.

  Devin picked up his bag from the conveyor belt and made his way to the cab area. Tamping down the need to run, he pushed through the people. The burning in his gut didn’t lessen. The fury remained. Someone had tried to kill his wife.

  He wouldn’t let his emotions get involved, because to do so could mean making a mistake on the job. But once he captured who was after his wife and ripped the bastard apart, limb from limb, Devin had every intention of convincing her they belonged together for good.

  Chapter Two

  The sterile hospital smell annoyed her stomach. Miranda struggled with the need to throw up as she pulled on a pair of her jeans and a white T-shirt. She grimaced at the pain in her ankle and the fact that her clothes were a horrible mess. The jeans were sliced from the ambulance crew’s attempt to reach her ankle, the shirt was stained with her blood, but they were the only clothes she had available.

  Stop the distribution of the vaccines or die.

  Miranda shuddered. The gunman could have easily fired the gun, but didn’t. That told her that he was there to give her a warning, and she probably wouldn’t be so lucky the next time. It sent chills down her spine, but she stilled herself against the fear. She made it this far, and she’d be damned if someone was going to stop her from her goal.

  It shocked her that someone would take such great lengths to stop something that could save lives. Too many people were depending on this year’s influenza distribution. With so many varied formations of the flu, companies and government agencies were asking for vaccines two months ahead of the normal flu season. Miranda couldn’t let them down. But more importantly she couldn’t let deaths occur because of some inane threat against her life.

  You’re almost there, Miranda. Someone was in for a big surprise. She never backed down from anything and, with the lives of hundreds of thousands perhaps millions of people at risk, it fell on her shoulders to ensure the vaccine was distributed on time.

  Miranda carefully slipped on her sneakers as she contemplated the guard waiting for her outside. Mark was a surprise. Over six feet tall, he had towered over her as he explained that John hired him to protect her. When she tried to ask which government agency had sent him, Mark’s demeanor changed, and he’d become withdrawn.

  Miranda sighed. She guessed it was normal procedure having the government send someone to watch over her. She was, after all, worth millions to them. Scratch that. She was worth billions. She was the only one who knew the distribution access code. Miranda had memorized the computer code, deleting all traces of files from the hard drive.

  Maybe it was time someone else knew what the password was. The temptation was there, but the risks were too great. The deadline was just three days away. She couldn’t give up so easily and put someone’s life at risk. It was up to her to make sure the password was typed into the World Health Organization’s database, ensuring all government agencies access to the encrypted file that held the recipe for the formula. Not just a regular formula either. She’d worked her ass off to make sure this year’s vaccine battled any type of influenza. Three years of hard work and the ultimate sacrifice, but test after test proved this new vaccine would battle even the worse type of flu symptoms. The threat of a pandemic, like the one that killed hundreds of thousands of people in 1918, would disappear. With enough vaccine, no one would ever have to pick who receives the vaccine while being forced to turn others away, knowing they might die.

  Whoever had tried to kill her must have known she was the only one who knew the code. It had to have been someone in Sterling Corp. but, in a corporate environment of one thousand employees, it was going to be a hard thing to detect.

  Frustrated and suddenly weary, Miranda plopped down on the hospital bed. Her only option was to disappear with Mark. Though Mark didn’t divulge his plans with her, Miranda knew there was no other choice. She had to make herself scarce if she wanted to live long enough to see this through.

  She reached up to rub her forehead, hoping to ease the mounting headache. At times like this, she wished Devin was here. His take charge persona was what attracted her to him in the first place. If he were here, he would know what to do. She missed him desperately.

  And when the dark and painful loneliness really got to her, when she thought the walls would crush her, she would remember the nights when Devin’s body touched hers, his presence reassuring her that tomorrow would be a better day.

  She didn’t have that anymore and instead lived day to day, regretting everything that had gone wrong between them. She truly believed that they could have made it work, but she admitted she had chosen the easy way out, walking out on everything she held dear. It was the ultimate sacrifice.

  A knock on the door had her rising.

  “Come in,” she called out, silently hoping it was Mark. She wanted to get out of this place already.

  Miranda eyed the small Arabian-looking doctor who entered her room. He carried a stethoscope in one hand and a bunch of papers in the other. She assessed him, knowing immediately that he wasn’t the same doctor who had promised he would return with her discharge papers.

  “How can I help you?” she asked nervously as a deep sense of foreboding settled in her gut. The doctor placed the papers down on the foot of the bed but retained his distance.

  “My name is Dr. Kalib Raheem. I’m here to sign the discharge papers.”

  Miranda couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something wrong with him. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t look like a doctor; it was the fact tha
t he was fidgeting and staring at her too intently.

  “Where’s Dr. Burton?”

  “He’s finished with his shift.”

  She frowned. She might have been hit in the head lately, but Miranda knew she didn’t suffer from any memory loss. Dr. Burton had left her room an hour ago, promising a quick visit with another patient, before returning with her papers.

  “Where’s Mark?”

  “Who’s Mark?” Dr. Raheem asked, leering at her.

  “He’s the guard I had…” Holy shit, she screamed in her mind the same instant her hand flew to her cane. Dr. Burton knew who Mark was. With quick fingers, Miranda grabbed the cane beside the nightstand.

  Devin had taught her to defend herself, making her promise to use anything her hands can find if she ever came under attack. The rule was already embedded in to her head.

  “By the way you’re shaking and holding that cane so tightly, I can assume you already know that I’m not a doctor,” he whispered evilly. Miranda’s gaze flew to the syringe that seemed to materialize in his hand.

  “I do?” she said, willing to agree to anything this madman said.

  “Yes, my dear. I have come to ensure that you got our message last night and to make sure our warning is taken wholeheartedly.”

  “Your warning was quite clear,” Miranda replied, trying to keep her voice calm as she tightened her grip on the cane.

  “And you will ensure our warning is achieved?” he asked as he took a step closer to her.

  Miranda swallowed as she tried to stall for time. “You do realize that if I do as you say, billions could die? A pandemic will occur, infecting the human population rapidly. In a six to nine month epidemic rate, forty thousand people will die. The first sign of avian flu was confirmed in the states two days ago. This vaccine could help. Other countries would have access to the vaccine. People do not have to die over this.”

  “I am sorry to have to do this to you. I was hoping you would have been convinced to see it our way.”

  “What way?” she cried, feeling overwhelmed with anger and urgent fear. “Other than the threat on my life, you gave me no valid reason as to why the distribution should stop. Whole families, mothers and their unborn children, could be wiped out in days if this plague spread. Do you have children, Khalib? Do you want to see them die in front of your eyes? Because that’s exactly what will happen if you don’t stop this madness!”

  “My people paid a large amount to make sure that vaccine doesn’t meet its deadline, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.” Khalib raised the syringe and lunged at her.

  Miranda had no choice but to defend herself. She screamed with rage as she swung the cane with all her might. Miranda saw Khalib’s look of surprise, before the cane connected with the side of his head.

  Blood spattered her T-shirt. The sickening sound of a bone cracking made her wince. Miranda watched in shock as Khalib fell forward.

  She heard the door to her room open, but she was too busy fighting the blackness that threatened to take her under. Miranda felt the bile rise in her throat as she stared at Khalib and heaved. He looked like a broken figurine with blood spilling from his head and coating the floor, his hand with the syringe trapped beneath his lifeless body.

  Why couldn’t he listen to me? Why did he make me do this?

  “Querida.”

  The simple, urgently uttered Spanish word was an endearment for love, but that’s not what surprised her as her gaze collided with a deep set of chocolate brown eyes.

  She didn’t think he would ever come to her. Miranda had been set on going to him, when this was all over. It has to be a dream, she thought, momentarily confused as to why he was here of all places. How did he find me...here?

  “Are you okay?” A long moment passed between them, while they stared into each others eyes, and she continued to fight the many sensations flowing through her. She whimpered as her strength drained away, the edges of her vision dimming fully.

  “Devin?” she whispered as she finally gave in to the welcoming world of sleep.

  Chapter Three

  “Fuck! Is she okay?”

  “Where the fuck have you been, Mark?” Devin gritted the words out through clenched teeth as he cradled Miranda’s body in his arms. Small and fragile, Miranda looked as if she would break. He checked her pulse, satisfied to feel it beating steadily.

  “I got a call from Dr. Burton at the front desk. When I arrived to take it, there was no one there. A fucking classic diversion, and I was too stupid to see right through it.”

  “You were supposed to be watching her at all times. There is no fucking excuse in this line of work, and there are no mistakes when it comes to my wife,” Devin said menacingly as he held Miranda’s body tighter to his and walked toward the doorway. Devin heard her sigh deeply, and instinctively pressed her body closer to his.

  “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve kicked myself a hundred times while running over here? Where are you going?”

  “I’m taking her out of here. She’s on my watch now. Notify Spectra. They’ll know how to dispose of the body. Return to the main office. If I need anything, I’ll call.”

  “This isn’t protocol. I’m supposed to back you up.”

  “Fuck you and your goddamn protocol. I’m calling the shots. She comes with me, and you are the last person who will know where we’re headed,” he replied as he walked out the door without looking back.

  * * * * *

  Devin felt like murdering Mark with his bare hands. He would have done exactly that if his arms were free. In this job, there was no room for mistakes. Field agents knew it, and the fact that Mark let himself be deceived with an obvious ploy proved that he wasn’t ready for such an important assignment.

  He wanted to pummel Mark’s face in the ground at the stupid excuses that flew from his lips. He couldn’t help but feel relieved that Miranda was still alive.

  Devin maneuvered the Chrysler Town Car up the highway as he headed for his secluded cabin upstate. It was the only place he could think of that was private enough to provide her with the protection needed, until the three days were up, but still close enough to New York, if she was needed earlier.

  Devin knew from the file Lincoln had handed him that Miranda was the only one who knew the distribution code. The knowledge had him moving fast to get her out of the hospital.

  Remembering the bloodied man lying unconscious on the floor, he felt his gut tighten. He’d rolled the man over to get a better look at his face—saw a syringe embedded in his chest—but he didn’t recognize him.

  What if things had happened differently? If she hadn’t been able to protect herself? He could have lost her, and she was the most important thing in his life.

  His cell phone rang, the loud noise causing Miranda to stir. He reached for it, flipping the device open.

  “Devin speaking.”

  “Lincoln, here. I have just enough time to tell you that the media arrived at the hospital about five minutes ago. Mark called in and told me about the murder attempt.”

  “Who do you think sent him?”

  “At this point, we have few clues. I’m headed to the hospital now to diffuse the situation. We’re trying to set it up as a husband went crazy on his wife scenario. Let’s hope it works, because if word gets out too early on what Miranda has succeeded in making, I’m afraid it’ll bring more nutcases out into the open. I’ll keep in touch,” Lincoln replied, before hanging up.

  Devin turned his head sideways and checked on her. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he leaned over and placed his fingertips against the base of her neck. Her pulse was still normal.

  He knew exhaustion plagued her, and it was probably the reason why she hadn’t come out of her faint yet. She looked like an angel sleeping so deeply, her long brown lashes emphasized with the closing of her eyes.

  He turned from her, keeping his eyes on the road, while his mind flitted back to a few minutes ago when she was pressed against him so t
ightly.

  When they had first met, it had been clear to him that Miranda had the body of a woman who kept in shape. While married, she had a workout routine of three days a week, keeping herself thin. The woman beside him physically looked nothing like the lady who had walked out on him.

  He was still so in tune with her. By the way she had handled herself back there with the assassin, he could tell she was still the same feisty Puerto Rican he had fallen in love with. But her body was another story. Devin saw her physique was more voluptuous, even now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

  Her thighs were larger, emphasized by the tightness of her jeans. His cock jerked when he remembered the way her soft breasts had been pressed against him as he held her. She hadn’t worn a bra under the shirt, and his mouth watered in anticipation.