Mysterious Circumstances

by Rita Herron

  A shocked sound reverberated back. “How dare you speak to me that way. I’m in politics because I’m representing the people. And what the hell were you doing at CIRP with a damn reporter? Didn’t you learn the first time that you can’t trust a journalist?”

  “I don’t need you to remind me of that debacle—”

  “I’ve read Olivia Thornbird’s articles,” his father said, driving home his point. “She likes to stir up trouble, and she’ll do anything she can to get a story just like—”

  “She’s not like that,” Craig snapped.

  His father cursed. “Don’t tell me she already seduced you?”

  Pain sliced through his knuckles as his fingers gripped the phone. “Who I sleep with or don’t sleep with is none of your business.” Furious at his father for being a jerk and at himself for letting his father make him feel like an adolescent, he slammed down the phone. How his mother tolerated playing second fiddle to a politician was beyond him. But she enjoyed being by his father’s side, loved the public attention, liked being taken care of…

  He would never allow politics or maintaining an image consume his life.

  Except he had allowed his job to.

  But that was a conscious choice. Knowing anyone who got close to him might be in danger was an excellent reason not to get close to Olivia or any other woman. Besides, he had to protect himself by not falling in love.

  But was his father right about Olivia?

  No…he didn’t think so. She’d had every opportunity to seduce him, but she hadn’t.

  In fact, she seemed just as reluctant to complicate their relationship as he was. And she was nothing like his mother—hell, she balked at being taken care of.

  The realization made him want her more.

  A soft whimpering sound echoed from the bedroom, and he headed toward it. His pulse raced when he opened the door and saw Olivia’s face and that golden hair fanned across the pillow, draping over one bare shoulder where her gown had slipped down. Instead of looking peaceful, though, she rolled into a fetal position in the throes of a nightmare. He walked to the bed, lowered himself beside her, then shook her gently. “Olivia?”

  “No, don’t, Daddy, don’t die!” She twisted the sheet in her hands, her knuckles white. “Please help me, it’s so dark…they’re after me

  He frowned and shook her again, gently brushed the hair from her face with his fingers. Her skin felt so warm to the touch, he wondered if she might have a fever. Worried, he pressed his palm to her forehead. It felt clammy. And her cheeks glowed pink in the dim light.

  She suddenly flipped to her back, opened her eyes and gazed up at him.

  “Olivia, it’s okay,” he said softly. “You must have been dreaming.”

  She nodded, her eyes big and frightened, dazed. Then she slipped one hand around his neck as if to pull him to her. Remembering their close call with death earlier, Craig gave in to the moment and cradled her against him. Careful of her injured shoulder, he soothed her with featherlight kisses. But those kisses heated his bloodstream, made the constant ache he had for her spiral out of control. Rational thought fled, replaced by primal instincts as the kisses soon grew hotter.

  OLIVIA SHUT OUT the nightmares and voices, willing Craig’s touch to make her whole again because in those dreams she had been falling apart. Fearing everybody and everything. Losing her independence and seeking refuge within the same four walls. She felt as if she were going crazy. Hot and cold at the same time. Her head swam with images of murder, pain, suicide.

  Images of her father lying in a pool of blood. Her following…

  Craig deepened the kiss, his hands skating over her shoulders, one tracing a path down her back, bringing her closer into the V of his thighs, and the nightmare dissipated slightly. His breath rasped between them as he pulled away and fingercombed the hair from her face. Then the heady sensation of his tongue warmed her insides as he claimed her mouth again. She threaded one hand in his thick hair, clinging to the muscles bunching in his arms as he held her. He was in great shape, but the suits and ties hid his physique, one she yearned to see more clearly. Hunger flowed within her, his own triggering her arousal to a fever pitch.

  She reached for his tie, slid open the knot, dragged it from his neck and tossed it to the floor. Seconds later, she pushed his shirt away, raked her hands over the fine dusting of dark hair on his chest. And when she looked up into his eyes, the potent flare of heat drew her closer. He kissed her deeper, one hand snaking down to cover her breast and tease her nipple beneath her bra. Then he gently eased the buttons on her shirt free, trailed a path of kisses along her neck, then lower.

  But the voices began again.

  There’s no place to hide, Olivia. You’re the next to die.

  She stiffened and pulled away, flattening her hands on his chest as she trembled with a combination of desire and fear.

  “Olivia?” His voice sounded as if it had come from someone else.

  “I…I’ve been fighting it, too, but this attraction…it’s too strong.” He implored her with his eyes, the heat flaring in the dark gray depths primal, without guard. The Iceman was gone, and in his place was a man determined to claim her. “I want you, Olivia.”

  Affection and admiration zinged inside her. She had known from the beginning that Craig was an honorable man. Strong. Brave. Intelligent.

  A fierce competitor and agent.

  But she’d underestimated his power as a man. His allure as a lover.

  Still, the voices taunted her, perspiration beading on her neck and arms, shadows surrounding her. The walls were closing in again, the darkness hovering with the whisper of evil ready to pounce on her. She trembled again and glanced at the door, wanting to escape.

  But she couldn’t leave the house or she would die.

  Olivia had never worried about being safe before. The realization was even more jarring than the increasing reality that she was falling for Craig Horn.

  The nightmares, the voices—what did they mean? The symptoms of the other victims resounded in her head. Paranoia. Hallucinations. Agoraphobia.

  Illusions of suicide.

  Dear God, could she possibly have contracted the virus herself?

  CRAIG HAD NO IDEA why Olivia had pushed him away. He should be relieved that she possessed more control than he did, but he still couldn’t stop this constant ache for her. She’d gotten into his head, and into his soul, in a very short time.

  But he had to honor her request to be alone.

  Unable to sleep, he walked outside. The late-night air hummed with a mixture of heat, humidity, and shrimp-like odors, the sound of the ocean mimicking the roaring of his heart.

  He had to get a grip. He couldn’t allow himself to obsess over Olivia to the point of forgetting the reason he’d been assigned to the case.

  Yet even as he sacked out on the couch later, sleep eluded him. He still didn’t know if Olivia’s father had been involved in creating the virus. If so, how could he possibly tell Olivia? It would devastate her….

  He finally drifted in and out of sleep, but was up by dawn, showered and dressed. By the time Olivia emerged from the bedroom, he had pancakes and bacon prepared.

  She looked exhausted, but had managed to shower and had shed the sling. He wondered if she’d suffered any more nightmares.

  He handed her a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep?”

  “Not much,” she admitted. “I have to make arrangements for my father’s funeral today.”

  “I’ll drop you off and let you take care of things while I meet with Detective Black.” He fixed her a plate and gestured for her to sit and eat, although she had a truffle in her hands and was nibbling on it. “That is, unless you want me to stay with you.”

  Her gaze met his, the memory of the kiss lingering between them. “No…why don’t you take me to pick up my car. I need to stop by the hospital to have these stitches removed before I go to the funeral home.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t mind d
riving you.”

  “Listen, Craig, I appreciate you playing bodyguard, but you must have something more urgent to do on the case. I…don’ want to hold you up.”

  Protecting her was just as important to him as the case, he realized again. A good reason he should back away.

  “You were nearly killed three times, Olivia,” he said, instead. “It’s not safe for you to be alone.”

  She stiffened, sipped her coffee, then ate a couple of bites and pushed away the plate. “Then let’s get started.”

  He cleared the dishes while she retrieved her purse. But as they neared the door, she suddenly stopped and held back, a stricken look coloring her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Olivia?”

  Her mouth tightened, her hand trembling as she lifted it to her cheek. “I…I don’t know…but you’re right. It’s not safe out there.”

  He froze, one hand on the doorknob. That comment didn’t sound like the independent, fearless Olivia at all.

  “No, it’s not,” he murmured, “but we can’t sit around and wait on this killer to strike again.”

  Her fingers clenched her purse strap. “I…have a bad feeling. Someone’s been watching me. Watching the house.”

  His gaze cut to the French doors. “Did you see someone outside?”

  She shook her head. “But I know they’re out there. He’s waiting to kill me. He wants us both dead.”

  He cupped her elbow in his hand and slowly coaxed her to the door, surprised at the fear in her eyes as he unfastened the latch. “All the more reason for us to leave, Olivia. I’ll check and see if someone’s following us while I drive.”

  She shrank against him as they walked to the car. Worry knotted his stomach at her odd reaction. Why was Olivia suddenly behaving as if she was afraid when she normally charged forward, meeting every challenge and obstacle with fearless determination?

  “THE WOUND IS HEALING nicely,” Dr. Elgin said as he removed the last stitch from Olivia’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  Olivia rotated her arm. “Better. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, thanks.” She checked her watch, grateful she’d finished her checkup early, then hurried from the office and phoned Dr. Carrington, the infectious disease specialist from the CDC who’d been flown in to consult on the virus investigation. Craig was supposed to be meeting with him and Hal Oberman, the director of the DPS, and checking into Shubert’s medical reports while Olivia had her stitches removed, but she needed to speak with the doctor in private.

  “Dr. Carrington speaking.”

  “This is Olivia Thornbird. Please don’t say anything, just listen.”

  “What is this about?” the doctor asked in a shrill tone.

  “I’m working with Agent Hornon’t want to alarm him, but I…think I might have contracted the virus you’re studying. I’m in the hospital and want you to run some tests, but please don’t say anything to anyone, especially Agent Horn.”

  “I see.” Dr. Carrington hesitated. “I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

  Olivia’s insides quivered as she hung up and rode the elevator to the lab. Footsteps clicked behind her. She checked over her shoulder and thought a man in a dark suit was following her, so she ducked into a storage closet, then peeked through the cracks.

  The voices began again, whispering warnings in her head, filling her mind with images of pain and death, with images of more suffering to come. But everything seemed so real, as if it were happening before her eyes.

  Someone had sprayed a deadly germ in the air. People were breaking out in a rash. Some were choking, clawing at themselves until blood trickled from the scratches. Others screamed as pain knifed through their chests. Convulsions came next.

  They begged for something, anything to ease the pain.

  The only answer was to die.

  A small government faction had started the rash. Had planned to use it as a counterterrorist measure, but something had gone wrong….

  A nurse passed out suicide pills, and the victims choked them down. Their bodies jerked, faces contorted, skin turned a pasty white. Then they dropped like flies.

  Shadows pulled at her, tried to draw her into the darkness. The scent of death enveloped her. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

  The pill—it would be so easy. Take away the fear. The pain to come. The sight of all those suffering.

  No, she had to fight the urge to take her life.

  Hardly able to breathe, she clawed her way out of the closet and stumbled forward, but spots danced before her eyes. She was going to pass out. Drown in the endless well of darkness.

  Just like the others.

  Unless Dr. Carrington could help her.

  DR. CARRINGTON SNAPPED his briefcase shut in a dismissive gesture. “Gentlemen, I have to go.”

  Craig narrowed his eyes at the change in Dr. Carrington’s demeanor. He suddenly seemed agitated. In a hurry.

  “But we’re not finished,” Oberman said in a harsh tone. “I want to know more about the virus.”

  Dr. Carrington hesitated, as if weighing something in his mind, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I…I’m not sure if I should tell you this.”

  “What is it?” Craig asked.

  He fiddled with his stethoscope, tapped the desk, looked everywhere but at them. “Patient-doctor confidentiality—”

  this is about the virus,” Craig barked, “you have to tell us. It could be a matter of national security.”

  Carrington frowned, then jammed his hands into his lab coat. “We may have a live victim.”

  Craig’s heart raced. “What? Where?”

  “She called in and wants to be tested.”

  “How do we know it’s not a crank?” Oberman asked.

  Dr. Carrington moved toward the door at a brisk pace, his Italian loafers clicking on the hard floor. “It could be, but I don’t think so. The patient sounds truly worried.”

  Craig matched his pace. “Who is it?”

  Carrington paused, gave him a long assessing look, then cleared his throat. “Dr. Thornbird’s daughter, Olivia Thornbird.”

  Craig’s stomach clenched. Dear God, Olivia couldn’t be sick, could she?

  And if she was, why the hell hadn’t she told him?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Olivia’s throat constricted at the sight of Craig trailing Dr. Carrington into the lab. She’d wanted to keep her suspicions to herself, but it was obvious from the grim expression in Craig’s eyes that Dr. Carrington had already confided the reason for her call.

  Craig didn’t bother to speak, just shot her that closemouthed, dark look, then stood silently while the doctor moved to her side.

  “I thought patients and doctors shared confidentiality,” Olivia said in an accusatory voice.

  Dr. Carrington’s eyes filled with apology. “I’m sorry, Miss Thornbird, but we’re all here because of a potentially deadly virus that might be a public hazard. If there’s a chance you have it, I had to alert the authorities.”

  Olivia glanced away, knowing he was right but hating the fact that Craig was present. The doctor she could handle. They were both impersonal, professionals, doing a job.

  Not someone she cared about…

  Of course, to her, Craig simply represented a job as well.

  “Now, what makes you think you’ve contracted the virus?” Dr. Carrington asked in a concerned tone.

  Olivia averted her gaze from Craig, but tension vibrated between them. “I…I haven’t been feeling well.”

  “Headaches?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ringing in the ears?”

  “Yes.”

  Dr. Carrington ordered a nurse to bring supplies, then eased on rubber gloves and lifted Olivia’s arm to check for a vein. “What else?”

  “I’ve been feeling feverish, and…strange, as if someone was following me,” Olivia continued. “Experiencing feelings of paranoia as if someone wa
nts to kill me.”

  “Someone has been trying to kill you,” Craig argued, as if denying that she might be ill.

  Olivia glanced up, wondering if she misread the turmoil in his eyes and voice. “It’s more than that,” she said in a strained whisper. “I’ve been hearing voices, having hallucinations.”

  Dr. Carrington’s brow knitted. “When did you first notice the symptoms?”

  “Yesterday. But they’re occurring more often,” Olivia said. “It just came on so suddenly, this feeling…”

  Dr. Carrington drew several vials of blood, then labeled them, his mouth in a grim line. “We’ll run some tests, find out exactly what’s going on with you, Miss Thornbird.”

  Olivia nodded. “How long will it take?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll rush it.” Dr. Carrington folded his arms. “If you do have the virus, catching it in the early stages may be just the break we need to determine its origin and find a cure.”

  In spite of Dr. Carrington’s optimism, hope drained from Olivia. So far, the virus had been fatal. “No one else has survived.”

  Craig moved up beside her. “We don’t know yet that you even have the virus, Olivia,” he said in a low voice. “And even if you do, catching it now will enable the doctors to treat you.”

  “But there isn’t a cure,” Olivia said. “And even if I survive, we don’t know what kind of long-term side effects I’ll have. Just look at what happened to Dr. Shubert.”

  Craig placed his hands on top of her shoulders, and turned her to face him. “Olivia, look at me.”

  She bit down on her lip, but reluctantly obeyed.

  “We have no reason to believe the current virus we’re studying had anything to do with the one he contracted,” Craig said in a low voice. “Don’t panic, and don’t give up hope.”

  Olivia looked into Craig’s eyes, felt the heat from his hands, the stirring of desire in her body. More regrets surfaced. She’d sacrificed love for her career. She’d never have the chance to have a family. And as much as she wanted to make love with Craig, she couldn’t risk giving him the virus by becoming intimate with him now.