“I’m okay,” she said, shooing away his hands. “Is the case there?”
Before he bent down to look, she already knew it wasn’t. Why go through all of that trouble without a parting gift?
Jonathan shook his head.
“What could they do with it, really?” he asked.
Kate shrugged. “Destroying it would be useless, since it can be replicated with the research. Using it, or selling it, would be a one-shot deal, and honestly, we don’t even know if it works. There’s a high chance that it’ll have the same effect that the earlier stage of the drug had. My guess would be whoever they are, they’re trying to reverse engineer it. Break it down to figure out what’s inside so they can make more. Then again, if they have access to the labs, they wouldn’t need to go through all that trouble.”
“Well, what if we are wrong about that?” Kate raised her eyebrow. “What if they don’t have access to the lab? What if it isn’t an inside job? What if we know too much and it’s skewing our perception of everything that’s happened?”
Kate’s mouth dangled open a fraction, making her guess she looked like a cartoon character. She could tell her surprise confused him. He tilted his head, giving her a questioning look.
“What?” he asked.
“That was just really attractive,” she admitted before she could censor herself. Jonathan broke into a grin that only made him more mouthwatering.
“What? Objective thinking or problem solving?”
Kate felt her cheeks burn, but she laughed.
“Both.”
Jonathan joined in. When the laughter died a moment later, he took a step toward her. Something in the chemistry of the moment changed. The heat from her cheeks burned hotter. She hadn’t been with a man in so long and not just in an intimate way. Jonathan Carmichael was looking at her like she’d seen other men look at other women, seeing not just a physical body but also a potential future. What could he see when looking at her?
Kate averted her gaze. This wasn’t the time to find out.
“We need to call Jake and tell him what happened,” she said. “If you’re right and these people didn’t have access to the lab, then finding out how they got the failed drug may be the key to figuring out what’s going on. Plus, now that we have the woman’s picture, maybe he can use the FBI database to find out who she is.”
Kate didn’t look up to see if Jonathan agreed. Instead she turned to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, she moved past her intimate apparel and pulled out a screwdriver.
“Should I be worried about why you had that in there?” Jonathan asked. Kate turned with a half smile. Whatever their moment had been, it had reverted back to normal. She moved over to the air-conditioning unit and got on her knees. She began to unscrew its cover.
“My mother taught me many things at a young age. Like how it’s important to protect the things you care about. And how, sometimes, that means we must hide those very things.” She removed the last screw and gently took off the cover. Taped to the inside was a small Moleskine notebook. Gingerly she removed it. Jonathan came to stand beside her, looking down at the book. “While I had digital files on what I was working on, I didn’t put them all in the computer. I was always afraid that somehow the information might be leaked.” She shook the notebook. “So I kept a secret hard copy that detailed everything. If our mystery crew has no access to the lab and its notes, then this is what they should have taken.”
“And if they find out you have that, they might pay us another visit,” Jonathan breathed out. He sounded split between anger and exhaustion.
Kate flipped open the notebook and let her eyes trace her handwritten scrawls. Notes, figures and calculations she’d devoted the past five years to—but really, her whole life.
A part of her.
A part of her mother.
And now a part of Jonathan.
Chapter Nineteen
Jake didn’t answer his phone when Kate called and they decided against leaving any specific information on his voice mail. A vague “Call as soon as you get this—we need to talk,” was all the scientist said. Still, Jonathan parked his rental outside an apartment complex on the Upper East Side of Manhattan with every intention of making it their permanent residence until they left New York.
“His apartment is on the third floor,” Kate said, pulling her luggage over the sidewalk and up to the front door. No longer in her robe, she’d changed into a long-sleeved blue blouse, a pair of jeans and comfortable-looking flats. She twisted her hair up into a bun and had taken pains to spray down her thick bangs. She hadn’t fooled with applying makeup. It was nearing night and they’d be staying put.
“You’ve been here before, right?” Jonathan asked as he helped her inside. Immediately they were met with stairs to their right. Kate exhaled.
“Yes, once, which means I sadly know there’s no elevator. Because I haven’t already had my fill of stairs for today,” she mumbled. “At least now I won’t be getting shot at.”
Jonathan smiled, thinking her frustration was perhaps a great deal cuter than it should have been, and started the trek upward, all the while fussing over the woman like she was a child. She’d already been the target of attempted murder three times in two days. Jonathan reasoned his worry was more than warranted.
There were four apartments on the third floor and Kate directed them to one facing the street they’d parked on. A brown and black doormat with the word Welcome greeted them.
“Surely an FBI agent doesn’t just keep his spare key beneath the mat?” he asked, worrying that maybe Jake wasn’t as careful as he’d thought.
Kate chuckled. She lowered her bags to the ground. Putting her foot on the black rubber part of the mat, she bent and burrowed her fingers beneath the raised brown plastic on top. She pulled up and the sound of Velcro coming apart followed.
“It’s not Fort Knox, but I don’t think many would look here,” she said, spying the key tucked in the open space. She pushed the middle back down and turned to Jonathan. Her eyebrow arched.
“Are you jealous of Jake’s doormat?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes.
“Just unlock the door.”
The apartment opened on a small L-shaped white kitchen that attached directly to the living area with an exposed brick accent wall at the back. Between the two was a small square dining set, a dark green patterned couch, a barrel that had been converted into an accent table and a large flat screen atop shelving bolted into the brick. On the rest of the walls making up the living and dining space were various framed pictures ranging from posters of cop movies to random road signs to pictures of family and friends. Kate watched as Jonathan took in these details and elaborated on a few.
“The only rebellious phase Jake ever went through when we were younger was stealing street signs. He’s quite proud of them still.” Her attention moved to the converted table. “That was a gag gift my father got Bill a year before he died. I don’t think Jake’s ever been without it.” She pointed to the door across from the table. It was small, as he guessed the room behind it also would be. “Guest bedroom,” she said, then pointed to the door next to it. “Very tiny, badly tiled bathroom. Leaving the last door as his room. Also not the most attractive room.”
Jonathan laughed and parked his bags next to the couch. He headed back to the kitchen. Their pizza had never shown up at the hotel and he hoped Jake had something that could pass as a meal.
Kate dropped her things off in the guest bedroom and disappeared into Jake’s room soon after. To do what, he didn’t know. The agent didn’t have anything to make a three-course meal, but he had enough to make turkey sandwiches with a side of chips. Jonathan didn’t know much about Kate’s eating habits aside from her love of the Chinese restaurant, but he was almost positive she was as hungry as he was and would take the food witho
ut complaint.
“Food’s ready,” he called, plating each sandwich.
Kate appeared as he put the plates on the dining table. Her cheeks were rosy and she didn’t meet his eyes right away.
“You look suspicious,” he commented. Kate tried to play coy and waved a hand at him as if to bat away his concern. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” she said, as if pretending she hadn’t gone into the agent’s room in the first place. She took her seat across from him. He was happy to see the flash of pleasure that crossed her face as she spied the food. She didn’t hesitate in beginning to eat.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve snooped through Mark’s or Oliver’s places before, which is what I’m assuming you just did, and definitely not Nikki’s,” he pointed out with a smile. “I think you’re nosy.”
“From the little I know of Nikki Waters, it’s probably a good thing you don’t,” she replied, not denying the accusation. “I would think the founder of a security agency appreciates her privacy.” He gave her a thumbs-up to show she was right on the money. “I only snoop when I think there might be something worthy of the effort.” She cut her eyes back to Jake’s room. “Something that might help us make sense of everything.”
“And did you find anything useful?”
“No, but I didn’t really have enough time, now did I?” She threw him a wink that induced a different kind of pleasure within him than when Kate had eyed her food. It caught him off guard. So much so that he tried to cover for whatever his expression might have given away. He turned to the pictures on the wall beside them.
“Is that Bill?” he asked, honing in on one of a dark blond-haired man smiling wide. The ocean was behind him and he squinted a bit from the glare of the sun. The picture was aged.
“Yes, that was a few years before—” Kate stopped that thought and continued with a new one. “I think my father was the one who took that picture, actually.” She put her half-eaten sandwich down and stood. She went along the wall, nose close, investigating each picture until she found the one she was looking for. “Our parents decided to do a joint family vacation one year. It had been a long time since Jake’s mom had been to the beach, so we packed up for a few days and went.”
Jonathan joined her in front of the picture. Bill was sitting in the sand behind Jake as a little boy, while a smiling fair-haired woman was farther back in a striped beach chair. Jake wasn’t looking at the camera, his concentration on a half-constructed sand castle in front of him. Jonathan recognized Deacon from Kate’s Orion file—the younger version was seated in his own striped chair next to Jake’s mother, caught in midlaugh. A woman in a black one-piece stood near him, but her eyes were on the little girl with her hands in the sand castle, a small smile on her face. That little girl, undoubtedly Kate, was the only person in the picture looking directly at the camera. They all looked so happy. So content. “You look just like your mother,” Jonathan said, looking back at the woman. When the picture was taken she’d been older than Kate was now, but the resemblance was unbelievable.
Kate smiled.
“Thank you. This was actually the first attempt at a nice, smiling picture another tourist was kind enough to offer to take, but then something made my father break out into laughter.” The smile from receiving Jonathan’s compliment extended. It seemed to strengthen with the power of what must have been a good memory. “After that no one could get their acts together. I don’t even know that we have a normal one. A few years back Jake’s mother found this and made copies for us and my dad. It’s one of my favorite pictures.” Kate turned and Jonathan felt the bright light of the love she felt for her family, including Jake and his parents, move to him. Inadvertently he took a step away. He wished he could share the same type of memories—childhood ones of family—with her, be able to share stories of growing up, even the bumps along the way. But he had none.
He moved back to the table and picked up his food again. He was aware that Kate watched him, but she didn’t comment on the change in his mood. Instead she, too, went back to eating, and in silence they each finished their food. Still without talking, Kate collected their empty plates and cleaned up. Jonathan tried to shake the mood he’d fallen into but was coming up short. The walls—the emotional barriers—around him built up once again. So high, in fact, that he didn’t notice when Kate took her seat opposite him again until she spoke.
“Foster care?” Jonathan felt his eyes widen, finding hers with a questioning look. She gave him an apologetic smile and explained, “Yesterday you mentioned you moved around a lot as a child, something that you seemed angry about but not annoyed with. You also have an intense desire to plant roots and a fierce loyalty and, I bet, protectiveness of your friends and Orion. You talk about them as if they are your family. Plus—” she motioned to the back of her upper arm “—your tattoo. It’s of a house.”
“That’s a big assumption you’re making,” he said. His even tone didn’t faze her. Her dark eyes were kind, searching his face for what, he didn’t know. She remained quiet until finally he decided to tell her a story he’d never told anyone before. “My mom died right after I was born and my dad had no business being a parent. So he decided not to be.” The anger that he had once felt—the resentment—toward his father all of his childhood wasn’t there anymore. He was just stating facts now.
“Like thousands of other children in the country, I was never adopted and constantly moved around through foster families. For one reason or another, I couldn’t make a meaningful connection with the adults. I couldn’t seem to make friends with any of the kids, either. Not that it would matter if I had. There were some kids who had siblings in the system they hadn’t seen or talked to in years.” He exhaled. He might no longer feel the ill feelings he once had about his father’s abandonment, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget the overwhelming weight of loneliness.
“In high school I was sent to live with a woman who was rumored to only get kids with no hope of being adopted,” he continued. “I’ll never forget her, if only for her tattoos. She had these large, intricate works of art covering almost every inch of skin. One day I asked how she picked them. She said it had started with one. She’d sat down and thought about what she loved or wanted most in life and got a tattoo that represented it. Every one after was something else she loved or wanted until she was running out of room. So, one day I sat down, too, and while I was trying to think of what I loved more than anything, I drew this.” He turned a bit so she could see the tattoo better. He didn’t have to look down to recall the little box outline with its triangle on top, squares for windows and a small rectangle for the front door. It was an exact replica of the one he’d doodled on the corner of his notebook. “I guess I’m a cliché. The only thing I’d ever loved was the idea of a home.”
Kate stood up so quickly that her chair scraped against the hardwood. Jonathan tensed, ready to put out whatever fire she’d just remembered, but the brunette came around the table and threw her arms around him. She put her chin against his shoulder and buried her face against his neck.
“You’re not a cliché,” she said, slightly muffled.
Jonathan felt the walls around him shake. Not on reflex—because he didn’t have one for this kind of situation—he returned the embrace with a smile. Kate’s body was warm against him. The perfume she’d put on before they’d left the hotel was flowery and perfect.
“Thank you,” he said, voice soft, almost afraid to spook her. Kate stepped back and what Jonathan saw alarmed him. “Are you crying?”
Kate brought the back of her hands up and wiped away the few stray tears that had found their way to her reddened cheeks.
“Well, excuse me,” she exclaimed. “My heartstrings were just violently strummed.” She started to move away from him, backing up like she’d been burned. He’d embarrassed her.
“No,” he said, capturing her han
ds so she couldn’t escape. “I just don’t want to see you cry. Not because of me.” Kate stopped moving. Another tear leaked out and all Jonathan could think about was stopping it. He dropped her hand and lifted it to her cheek, running his fingers across and wiping the tear free. “I’ll admit that my childhood wasn’t ideal, and there are times when I still wish it had been different, but then I remember if it had, I never would have met Nikki. She never would have referred me for a job at Redstone and I’d never have met Oliver and Mark. I’d never leave and join Orion and meet some of the best people I’ve ever known.”
He heard his voice go low on the last part, saw Kate’s expression soften and felt the urge to tell her she was now included in that list of people all at the same time. “Don’t worry about me, Kate. Let me worry about you.”
Chapter Twenty
Every part of Kate was telling—no, screaming at—her to kiss the man in front of her. To create a different kind of embrace than the one they’d shared moments before. To open up and lose herself in something other than her work.
But Kate’s body drew away from him before her mind could reason out why. She gave him a quick smile she hoped said everything she couldn’t and moved out of his reach.
“The convention is tomorrow afternoon, and no matter what happens, I feel like I should get some sleep,” she said.
It was like a fog lifted from Jonathan’s face. He straightened his back, cleared his throat and nodded. Guilt, though she didn’t quite understand its place, slowly turned within her. Like she’d deflated him somehow.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you for being tired,” he said. “I’m going to stay out here and wait for Jake to get in.”
“Could you wake me up when he does?” Kate was already moving away, as if she could physically separate herself from the foreign feeling of desire she realized had started to grow.
Be on the Lookout Page 14
