by Cassie Miles
He whipped open the door and dashed through.
Trembling, she waited, holding her stun gun. Fear built up inside her. The internal pressure was unbearable. To calm herself, she counted prime numbers. Her brain stumbled and stuck on twenty-five. Not a prime. Why was she thinking of twenty-five? It was her age. Blake’s age. They should have more years. Together? No, we won’t be together.
Her usually organized mind bounced wildly from one thought to the next. She was confused, horribly confused. Her hands rose to her temples as though she could control her brain by holding the sides of her head. If she stood here by herself, she’d surely go mad.
With her stun gun in hand, she opened the door and peeked into the well-lit hallway. The elevators stood in the center of the third floor. At either end the hallways took a ninety-degree turn, creating a square within the square building. The hall was clean and plain with one exception: blood stained the carpet and splattered on the clean white walls.
A single shot rang out. She didn’t see the gunman. Or Blake. Or anyone else. Only the blood.
She went around the corner to the left. The door to Latimer’s office stood open.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the stairwell. If she went back, she’d be safe from stray bullets. But safety was relative. If someone attacked her in the stairwell, she couldn’t escape. In the theater when Blake had taken off in pursuit of the bad guy, she’d made a reasoned decision to follow him. The safest place she could be was close to him.
Ducking low, she darted toward the open door. Blake was inside, crouched behind the receptionist’s desk in the waiting room where a row of slate-blue chairs lined the walls and magazines rested on a coffee table. Smears of blood marked the floor, leaving a trail.
Blake called out, “Damn it, Latimer. Put down the gun.”
“Stay back.” Latimer’s voice was high and scared. “You can’t take this from me. I won’t let you.”
In the narrow corridor that led to the examination rooms, she caught a glimpse of Latimer. He lurched forward, fired wildly and stumbled back. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, which meant he was nearly blind. And armed.
She scooted across the floor to Blake’s side. He pulled her close. “I was starting to worry about you. I’m glad you’re here.”
An unwanted thrill went through her. She nodded toward the hallway. “What’s happening?”
“As near as I can figure, Latimer has lost his damn mind. He thinks I’m after him.”
“The blood?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen anybody else.”
From down the hall came another desperate shout. “I know you’re there. Don’t come any closer.”
She looked to Blake. “Have you tried getting closer?”
“I don’t have a death wish,” he said. “And I don’t want to shoot him.”
“Maybe you could throw something. You were pretty accurate with that knife in the kitchen.”
Latimer fired another wild shot.
“The problem,” Blake said, “is that I can’t stand up and take aim.”
“Maybe I should try talking to him.”
“Go for it. A woman’s voice might reassure him.”
She faced the narrow hallway but stayed behind the desk. “Dr. Latimer? Trevor Latimer? It’s me, Eve Weathers.”
“Eve?”
“That’s right.” Her mouth felt dry. She licked her lips and forced herself to swallow. “I’m here with Blake, and we’re not going to hurt you.”
“Show yourself.”
Before she could stand up, Blake caught her arm. “Keep him talking. Get him to disarm himself.”
“Trevor,” she said, “you invited me here. Remember? You said you were setting up a meeting with Dr. Prentice. Do you remember that?”
“Of course, I remember.”
“I want to help you. But you have to put the gun down first. Toss it into the hallway.”
“Then I’d be helpless. No.”
“Please, Trevor. We’re on your side. Please trust me.”
“No,” he shouted. “Where the hell is Randall?”
She’d forgotten all about Latimer’s chauffeur and bodyguard. To Blake, she whispered, “Have you seen him?”
“When I came onto the floor, I made a circuit of the hallways, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hiding out there.”
She eyed the blood. “Or he was shot.”
Calling out to Latimer, she said, “When did you last see Randall?”
“He came with me into the building. While I was in my office, I heard shooting. Got my gun from the safe. And the ammo. Then I stumbled. Lost my glasses.” His voice was growing weaker. “They can’t have it. They can’t take it from me.”
“Take what?” she asked. What was so important that he’d protect it with his life?
“Can’t take it.” He fired another shot.
Unreasonable and panicked, he was hanging on to his sanity by a thin strand. Somehow, she had to get through to him. “There’s a lot of blood out here. Somebody has been wounded, seriously wounded. And you’re a doctor. You can help them.”
“Is it Randall? Is he hurt?”
“Throw down your gun, and we’ll look for Randall. We need your help.”
There was silence, and she hoped that she’d reached him.
In a dull voice, Latimer said, “All right, I’ll help in any way that I can.”
Both she and Blake peered over the edge of the desktop as Latimer stepped into the narrow hallway and dropped his weapon.
Blake hurried to pick up the gun. She went to Latimer. She would have embraced him, but he was holding a metal container that looked like a big thermos in front of him.
Gently, she patted his arm. “What’s in there?”
“Frozen sperm. Mine. It’s my only chance of having a child.” He exhaled a ragged breath and sagged against the wall as though he wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own. “My illness left me sterile.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“If it weren’t for Dr. Prentice, I wouldn’t even have this small amount of viable sperm.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“He took a sperm sample from me as a part of the Prentice-Jantzen study. I assume he did the same with all the subjects.”
“All of you?” Even Blake? She’d have to ask him about Prentice’s physical exams.
“Eight months ago, I was fine. And now…”
She couldn’t help feeling empathy for this man, her own age, who had suffered the terrible ravages of disease. At the same time, her rational mind told her that his sterility was an obvious reason he might have wanted to impregnate her. He knew how such things worked; he was a fertility specialist. The most damning evidence of all: Latimer was in touch with Prentice.
“Was it you?” she asked. “Am I carrying your baby?”
“What?” He squinted, trying to see her. “What are you talking about?”
“The first time you saw me, you knew I was pregnant.”
“I made an educated guess. This is what I do for a living, Eve. I help women get pregnant. I know the signs.”
“Like glowing? You don’t really expect me to believe that.” She leaned closer, hoping that he could see her anger.
“All right,” he said angrily. “Dr. Prentice mentioned that a woman close to Blake was pregnant. And you walked into my house with your hand resting on your belly.”
“You’d been talking to Prentice.”
“Occasionally.”
“Where is he? You promised that he’d be here.”
He drew away from her. “I was supposed to call him after you arrived. If you want to talk to him, use the cell phone on my desk.”
Blake turned on the light in one of the examination rooms and cursed. “Over here, Latimer.”
Collapsed on the floor beside the padded examination table with stirrups was Randall. His chest was covered with blood.
Chapter Twenty
While Blake and La
timer worked on Randall, Eve slipped out of the examination room. They’d called 911. Soon the parking lot outside would be filled with ambulances and police cruisers. The office would be crawling with cops.
Before she’d gotten involved with Blake, her only contact with the police was the occasional speeding ticket. Now, she knew the drill. There would be questions, confusion and a total lack of privacy.
Latimer had told her that the cell phone on his desk would connect with Prentice. She needed to make that call before the chaos descended.
Blake poked his head out of the exam room. “Eve, go out to the hallway so you can direct the paramedics. Randall needs a hospital. Every minute counts.”
“I’m on it.”
Before she went to the outer door, she dashed into Latimer’s private office and grabbed the cell phone.
In the bloodstained hallway, she paced in front of the elevators. Prentice had the answer to her burning question: who was her baby’s father?
Though she wanted to scream at him and make demands, she knew better. Prentice wouldn’t respond to threats—not from her, anyway. If ever in her life she needed to be calm and rational, this was the moment. She had to convince him to tell her the truth.
She scrolled through the list of Latimer’s contacts until she found the number, and she made the call.
Prentice grumbled, “It’s about time, Latimer. I expected to hear from you ten minutes ago.”
“It’s Eve Weathers. Don’t hang up.”
Impatiently, he snapped, “What is it, Eve?”
“We obtained your initial research and Dr. Ray’s analysis. I’ve deciphered most of the DNA database.”
“Good for you.”
His cold, sardonic tone irritated her. She lashed out. “You were careless, Doctor. You recruited a serial killer as one of the sperm donors.”
“My selection process was based on IQ tests, accomplishments and health. Unfortunately, he qualified.”
“Thank God, he was only the father of two subjects.”
“Three,” he corrected her.
“I read the DNA charts, Dr. Prentice. There was Pyro and one other man.”
“You’re not as clever as you think, Eve. From what source did you obtain these charts?”
“From Vargas.” She had trusted the information from her genetic half brother. A mistake? “Vargas was the only subject with a unique sperm donor.”
“Because he made it up,” Prentice said. “David Vargas has the same genetic father as Pyro.”
The serial killer. If that information was made public, Vargas would be profoundly embarrassed. In his business dealings, reputation was everything. He couldn’t afford to be the son of an infamous serial killer.
Her mind took the next logical leap. “Please don’t tell me that Vargas is the father of my baby.”
“Certainly not. You share the same mother.”
“But he’s the one who paid you, isn’t he? He wanted me to be pregnant.”
“Because you share the same mother,” Prentice said. “Vargas wanted a child that shared his DNA—the good DNA. You or your half sister could provide him with a legacy.”
“That’s crazy. Why wouldn’t he use his own sperm? Or hire a surrogate mother to carry his baby?”
“He wanted to eliminate the DNA from his biological father, the serial killer. You share half his DNA—the good half. And he made a logical and compelling argument. You’ve met him, Eve. He’s very convincing. I had assumed that once you knew you were pregnant, you’d come around. According to Dr. Ray’s psychological analysis, you’ll make an outstanding mother.”
“But Dr. Ray wouldn’t go along with the plan. Vargas had to kill him to keep him quiet.”
Prentice rushed to say, “There’s no evidence to that accusation.”
“But we both know it’s true. That’s why you went into hiding, taking a supposed vacation. You’re afraid of Vargas.”
“I advise you to make the best of this situation. Think of the advantages. Vargas has enough money to provide your child with a top-notch lifestyle, an excellent education.”
“It takes more than money to make a father. It takes love.” She heard herself echoing Blake’s words.
“We can work this out. We’ll draw up contracts.”
She couldn’t believe he was advising her to work with the man who had probably killed Blake’s father, the son of the most infamous serial killer since Jack the Ripper. “I’d rather sign a deal with the devil.”
“Because you don’t have all the data. There’s one more important bit of—”
The cell phone was torn from her hand. She’d been so engrossed in her conversation that she hadn’t heard anyone approach. He grabbed her around the torso. His other hand covered her mouth.
“Come quietly.” She recognized Pyro’s voice. “I won’t kill you, Eve, but I can hurt you a lot.”
He dragged her backward toward the stairwell. One arm was pinned to her side, but she struggled with the other. Kicked back with her legs.
“Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll do this your way.”
He pressed a cloth over her mouth. The sharp tang of a chemical compound prickled her nostrils. She tried not to breathe but couldn’t help inhaling.
The fight went out of her. Thought drained from her mind as she lost consciousness.
AS SOON AS THE PARAMEDICS arrived, Blake stepped out of the way. With Latimer’s help, he’d done everything he could to keep Randall alive, from rudimentary first aid to starting an IV line. The chauffeur had lost a lot of blood, and there was internal damage, but he was still breathing.
In the front waiting room, Blake turned to Latimer. “Randall’s going to make it. He’s a fighter.”
“Thanks to you. I mean that sincerely. Thank you.”
“Hey, I just did what you told me. You’re the doctor. You saved him.”
Latimer straightened his spine. His eyelids tensed and twitched, but he appeared to have regained his self-control. “I apologize for what happened earlier. I haven’t been myself. Not since you told me about my biological parents.”
Two uniformed cops entered and rushed toward the examining room. Blake looked past them to the outer hallway. He didn’t see Eve.
Latimer continued, “I’ve been so absorbed in my own problems that I forgot that I could help others. That’s why I became a doctor. Working with you to save Randall showed me that I can still contribute. I’m not dead, yet.”
“Good for you.” This was an important moment for Latimer, and Blake would have paid more attention, but he was beginning to worry. “Do you know where Eve went?”
“The last time I saw her was when I told her that she could contact Prentice using my cell phone on my desk.”
“Where’s your office?”
“Straight back and to the right.”
“Thanks.” Blake clapped his shoulder and dodged past the two cops blocking the narrow hallway.
In Latimer’s office, he searched for the cell phone. It was nowhere in sight. He saw no sign of Eve.
Had she gone down to the car? He looked out the window into the gray light of dusk. Two more police cars pulled into the parking lot with lights flashing. Damn it, Eve. Where are you? He knew she was angry; she’d made it crystal clear that he’d said the wrong thing. Instead of telling her that he cared about her, maybe even loved her, he’d talked about his duty to honor his father’s last wish. Not the smartest comment he’d ever made, but he had had too much on his mind to be sensitive.
And she hadn’t given him a chance, hadn’t given him time to explain. Was she mad enough to go storming off by herself? He didn’t think so. There was still a threat, and Eve knew to be careful. Where the hell was she?
Avoiding questions from the officers who wanted to take his statement, he made his way into the hallway outside Latimer’s waiting room. He’d told her to come out here and direct traffic when the cops and paramedics started to show up. What if someone had been waiting? What if he’d directe
d her into an ambush?
Near the stairwell, he found the cell phone. By some miracle, it hadn’t been trampled. He hit redial and held it to his ear.
A voice answered immediately, “Eve? What happened?”
“Who’s this?” Blake asked.
“Dr. Edgar Prentice. To whom am I speaking?”
He wanted to crawl through the phone and strangle the old bastard. “This is Blake Jantzen.”
“Are you with Eve? Is she all right?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?”
“I’m not sure what happened,” Prentice said. “We were having a conversation, and she was interrupted. It was sudden. I fear someone might have…taken her.”
“Someone,” he said coldly. “You know who it was. You’ve known all along who was after her.”
“In point of fact, I can’t be sure. I don’t have actual physical evidence.”
“Don’t waste my time playing games, Prentice.”
“This can’t come back to me,” he said nervously. “My practice is already on shaky ground and I—”
“Stop! No more excuses! You’ll start cooperating now. You have no other choice.”
“I don’t?”
“If anything happens to Eve, if she’s harmed in any way, you’ll have a reason to be scared. Because I will hunt you down.” He paused to let his threat sink in. “Where would they take her?”
There was a moment of silence. The paramedics came into the hallway with Randall on a collapsible gurney. Another set of cops emerged from the elevator.
Finally, Prentice said, “There’s a private airstrip in the mountains between Boulder and Nederland. I believe it’s called V-Base.”
“And the V stands for Vargas.” Blake had known from the first time he met Vargas that he was trouble.
“Be careful when you’re approaching. It’s my understanding that Pyro likes to play with explosives.”
Both Vargas and Pyro? And a minefield? Things just kept getting more and more complicated. “What else can you tell me?”
“There’s one last thing you should know. It’s extremely important.”
Chapter Twenty-One
