Rage ignited cylinders that had gone dormant during his leave. When a boot slashed toward his midsection, he contorted his body to the side, evading the strike. It was then that he got his first look at the intruder. Although he wore a mask, Coen could see enough to determine a few things quickly—male, white, tall, muscular but not bulky.
Tightening his hold on his knife, he demanded, “Who are you?”
The guy dove away.
He followed, but when he got to the aisle his assailant had disappeared down, it was empty. A scuffling noise to his right caught his attention. He tracked the sound, putting one silent foot in front of the other.
The door to the greenhouse slammed shut.
“Goddammit!” Coen took off. When he got outside, he found no sign of his assailant.
Riley.
He hauled ass down the service drive and nearly ran into her around the bend.
“What’s wrong?” she cried.
“Did a guy pass you?” He peered over her shoulder.
“No, there’s no one back there. Britt just pulled into the parking lot, but otherwise no one. Did something happen in the greenhouse?”
Grasping her hand, he hauled her toward the parking lot.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you to safety.”
She dug her heels in. “Is everything okay at the greenhouse?”
“There’s been a break-in.”
“And the burglar was still in there?”
He clenched his teeth. “Yes.”
“I want to see the damage.”
Tugging on her hand, he said, “Later.”
“No, now.” She wrenched free of his grip and ran in the opposite direction.
“Riley!”
Damn, if she wasn’t fast. He caught up to her right where the service drive spilled into a small grassy area before the greenhouse.
“Hold up. Let me go first.”
“You think someone’s still in there.”
“No, but I don’t want to take any chances.” What he wouldn’t do to have a locked vehicle nearby. He’d feel better if she had some protection while he went inside. “Stay here. Scream if you see anything out of the ordinary.”
“No way am I letting you leave me out here.”
“I can clear the building faster on my—”
“Own,” she finished for him. “Listen, I get that having me around isn’t your preference. But I’m not going to let you go in there by yourself.” She burrowed her small hand into his free one. “I’ll cover your back.”
A ferocious determination molded her features, and warmth spread around his heart. Allowing her into an unsecured building scared the hell out of him, but he couldn’t release her hand. Instead, humor twitched at the corners of his mouth.
“What will you use to cover my back?”
“I’ve got a healthy set of lungs inside this body, and they’re just waiting to rip free.”
He raised an eyebrow in warning. “Try not to take out my eardrum, okay?”
“Do I need to get you some personal protection equipment?”
“Earmuffs would hinder my ability to hear the bad guy.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll take my chances. Step where I step. Do what I say.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
He squeezed her hand again. Harder.
Even though he didn’t expect to find anyone or anything, he gave this sweep as much attention as the first. With Riley on his heels, all his senses were heightened, the stakes higher. If he screwed up, he wouldn’t be the only one to pay.
A few minutes later, he gave the all-clear sign, the action as second nature to him as brushing his teeth. For a second he’d allowed himself to forget that his team didn’t exist.
He glanced down to find Riley’s eyes wide with horror. Horror at what a stranger had done to her beloved plants.
“I’m sorry,” he said, skimming his thumb over her knuckles.
Eyes full of sadness flicked up to his. His heart slammed against the wall of his chest. Once. Twice. Three times. The impact of her gaze shook him to his core.
Moving away from him to pick through the debris, she said, “This isn’t just a hurried robbery. This is d-destruction. It’s hateful. Who dislikes me so much?”
“Maybe it’s something else.”
“Like what?”
If he’d given her another couple of minutes, she would’ve connected the dots. But her mind couldn’t wrap around what was before her.
“Searching for something.”
“In a greenhouse?”
“The text, the murders, and now a break-in. My gut tells me they’re connected.”
“You think the other scientists were killed for something they had in their possession?”
“It’s one possibility.” Moving to her side, he reached out a hand, running his fingers from her elbow to her other hand. Something contracted in his chest when her fingers wrapped around his. “Did you bring home anything unusual from Costa Rica?”
“A few cultural souvenirs. Nothing special.”
“Has anything changed in the past couple of weeks? Anything unusual?”
She gnawed on her lower lip. “A few days ago, Nick Landry visited me at the farmers’ market. He was in town for a conference and dropped by to say hello. He worked on Endurance with me.”
He recalled her mentioning Landry and a Dr. Young to Maggie in her office.
“Did he ask you any odd questions?”
“Not that I can think of.” Realization swiped away her shock. “The package.”
“What package?”
“The one I received from Camilla earlier this week. It contained the note and a children’s book.”
“I think it’s time you told me exactly what kind of research you were conducting in Costa Rica.”
She nodded. “During my junior and senior year of undergrad, I interned in Costa Rica. Because of the constant moisture in the area, the people who live in the more remote areas are prone to fungus and skin issues. The locals rely heavily on certain native plants to treat those issues. What I found was that a combination of three different plants appeared to not only treat but cure what we call psoriasis.”
“Skin rash, right?”
“That, and so much more. It can be very itchy and unsightly. Extreme cases can cause painful swelling in the joints.” She peered up at him. “Psoriasis may not be as problematic as cancer, but over 125 million people worldwide suffer from it.”
“What happened after your internships?”
“I mentioned what I had discovered to my mentor at the university, and he made a few phone calls. But since I didn’t have a PhD behind my name, no one was willing to invest in additional research so that I could prove my hypothesis.” A small smile, edged with bittersweet, appeared. “Or so I thought. Six months into my graduate program, I received a phone call from Dr. Hathaway, asking me to return to Costa Rica and finish what I’d started.”
“How long were you in Central America?”
“Two years conducting interviews with the indigenous people, one year securing permissions and additional funding for Project Endurance.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Did you graduate college early?”
“A full two years.”
“I’m sleeping with a genius.”
She looked away. “Book smart, people stupid.”
He hooked a finger beneath her chin. “What’s wrong?”
“I found out that Hathaway aborted Endurance after discovering one of the plants was a cure for impotency.”
“A cure?”
“Happy thought, huh?”
“More profit in boners?”
“Evidently.”
Sensing she needed a change of topic, he asked, “Did the package from Camilla contain anything else?”
“No, only—” Her head swiveled toward an upturned cart, to the tray of seeds he’d planted several days ago.
S
he rushed to pick up the tray that had thankfully landed face up and set it on a nearby workbench. From her backpack, she pulled out something small and round and positioned it over the tiny plant’s leaves. He recalled seeing it hanging from her neck on that first day she stared down at him from the ridge.
“What’s that?”
“A loupe or hand lens. It allows me to see tiny details on plants so I can identify one from the other.”
“Plant identification is that technical?”
“You’d be surprised.” She spent several seconds looking at the seedlings. When she straightened, a look of wonder lit up her beautiful eyes. “This is Timbroma subvolanum.”
“Timbro what?”
“Picanula is the common name. It’s one of the plants I was studying in Costa Rica, the one Nick said cured impotency.”
“Why would Camilla send you those seeds?”
Her gaze took on a familiar faraway look. She sucked in a sharp breath.
“What?”
“Camilla’s note. Keep fort safe.” She thrummed her fingers against the workbench. “The other night I figured out fort must stand for fourth. Me and the other three scientists, but I couldn’t figure out the significance.” Her fingers thrummed faster. “What if she sent all four of us seed paper?”
She locked eyes with him, and they said in unison, “To protect it.”
“From whom?” she asked.
A knock on the door behind them forced thoughts of precious seeds from his mind. “Stay here.” He marched toward the door but heard a shuffling behind him. “I told you to stay put.”
“I am. At your side.”
Strong-willed, brilliant female.
“At least stay behind me. Please.”
She smiled. “Certainly.”
Standing to the side of the door, he opened it to find a young woman.
“Buenos dias, Riley.”
Resting a hand on his tense shoulder, Riley said with a smile in her voice, “This is Camilla. My former assistant in Costa Rica.”
42
Leaning his backside against the counter, Coen split his attention between the young woman sitting at the round breakfast table and Riley at the stove. The scent of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and sizzling strips of bacon filled the air in the bungalow’s kitchen.
Standing in the neighborhood of five feet tall, Camilla sat with her back straight, and her dark eyes took in every detail of her surroundings. Her long black hair was secured in a bun knot at the back of her head, accentuating a pretty, rounded, teenaged face.
Upon seeing the young woman, Riley had enveloped her in a long hug. They’d spoken in rapid Spanish and inspected each other from head to toe. Then Riley had ushered them out of the destroyed greenhouse and into her vehicle.
While darting across town, she’d nattered on about local landmarks and pointed out interesting shops the whole way. He suspected she did so to keep the conversation off the ten-ton gorilla stuffed inside the car with them.
What the hell was Camilla doing in the States? In North Carolina? Had more researchers died? Had someone threatened her?
“Your home is beautiful,” Camilla said in a heavily accented voice.
“Thanks, but it’s not mine. It belongs to my cousin’s fiancée.”
Camilla smiled, dropping her guarded expression and revealing a hint of mischief that must have been a magnet to Riley years ago. “You live with your cousin’s fiancée?”
“No. Randi moved into Britt’s cabin. She’s letting me stay here until they figure out what to do with this place.”
“So much space for one person.”
“Is your family from Costa Rica?” he asked.
Her chin lifted a notch. “No familia, señor.”
“What did you do before working with Riley?”
“I was a thief.”
He shot Riley a glance, and she grinned.
“Not a very good one. We met when I caught her trying to lift my pack.”
“I’ve improved.”
Riley eyed the table. “So I’ve noticed.”
The moment they’d set foot inside the house, Camilla had shoved Dr. Young’s journal into Riley’s hands and backed away, as if she could no longer stand the stink of it. The journal had sat in the center of the table like a bloodied weapon retrieved from a crime scene.
Riley placed the steaming plate in front of her guest, then returned to the stove to fix two more. “Don’t wait for us. Eat while it’s hot.”
Two pieces of crispy bread popped up out of the toaster, and Coen hot-fingered them onto a plate holding four other slices.
“Mind if I grab the butter?” he asked, setting the mounded plate on the table.
“Not if you don’t mind bringing out the strawberry preserves and peach jam while you’re in there.”
Despite his heightened, on-alert senses, an odd note of domestication rocked him back a step. The situation was so foreign to him that it had taken him a couple of seconds to identify the feeling.
Even though he’d spent the past few weeks trying to wind down, his mind was still locked in active mode. He patrolled the perimeter of his campsite, morning and night. Cleaned and checked his weapons, every day. Ate his food as if someone would take it away any minute.
The ease with which Riley moved around the kitchen indicated she’d spent many hours at the stove. Heat crawled up his spine and burned the back of his neck at the thought of her making breakfast for another man.
Slamming the refrigerator door, he carried the condiments back to the table and slid into the empty chair next to Riley. She shot him a concerned look before pulling a slice of toast off the plate and slathering it with peach jam.
They ate in silence, the only sounds coming from the clink of their forks against plates and the air-conditioning unit shuddering to life.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten, Camilla?” Riley said in a low, matter-of-fact tone.
The young woman finished chewing her food and straightened her spine from its hunched position. “A cooked meal like this? Not since you left.” She glanced down at her plate, embarrassed.
Riley slid a hand over the young woman’s head. “You’re here now, my brave friend. Eat, then tell us what’s going on.”
Gratitude sparkled in Camilla’s eyes. “Gracias, Miss King—Riley. Everything is delicious.”
When the girl turned her attention away, he slid his hand over Riley’s. Her gaze shot to his in surprise, and he squeezed her fingers. A wan smile appeared before she returned the gesture.
Another silence settled over them while they finished their meal. Riley’s characteristic impatience had disappeared in the wake of Camilla’s arrival. He’d never seen her so calm and purposeful.
Holding up his coffee cup, he asked, “Does anyone else need a refill?”
“Sí, señor.”
“No thanks.”
He returned to the table with the coffee decanter and filled his and Camilla’s cups, then he leaned against the counter again and sipped his brew, trusting Riley to know when the time was right to extract information from the young woman. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Would you like some more eggs?” Riley asked.
Camilla rubbed her stomach. “I could not eat another bite.”
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
Squaring her shoulders, Camilla sat back in her chair and nodded.
“First off, why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“I waited awhile for you to respond to the links I sent. When you didn’t, I got nervous about having that phone on me. So I reset it and destroyed the SIM card.”
“I’m sorry, Camilla. I dropped my phone after seeing your messages. It took me a while to get to another device.”
Riley didn’t bat an eye as she stretched out the truth of how her phone got broken. Everything she said was technically correct. But her need to do so made his stomach roil.
“How did you get here?” Riley asked.
> “I got on a plane and then requested a car.”
“Just like that, huh?”
Camilla raised a brow. “Did you think I stole away in the back of a truck?”
“No, I just… I don’t know. It seems a long way to travel for someone alone and who has never left her country.”
“I assisted with your travel arrangements to and from North Carolina many times over the years.” Her faced scrunched. “Moving through the airports was a challenge, but I always found someone to help me.”
“But the expense.”
“For the past three years, I have been stashing away a portion of my paycheck. I had enough to get me here.”
“You used your entire savings to bring me Dr. Young’s journal?”
A deep line creased her forehead as she redirected her attention to her empty plate. “No, I did not intend to burden you with that, but…”
Riley glanced at him in confusion.
“Why did you come here?” he asked.
Her glistening eyes lifted to Riley. “To protect you and beg your forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness for what?”
“For putting you in danger.” Camilla’s gaze took on a faraway look. “Never did I think that he would learn where I sent the seeds.” She blinked and grasped Riley’s hand. “But he did, and everyone is dead but you.”
Covering Camilla’s hand with her own, Riley asked, “Why did you send us Timbroma?”
“After you and the rest of our team left Costa Rica, they didn’t close down the research center. They brought in a new group of researchers.”
Riley nodded. “I heard.”
“How?”
“Go on with your story. I’ll explain later.”
“Right away I could tell the new scientists were different. They were disrespectful to those in the village, and they brought in a crew of laborers to remove Timbroma from the wild.”
“A crew?” Riley asked. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t either and started asking questions. Soon after, they fired me.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“They would not answer my questions.” Disgust laced Camilla’s voice. “So I followed the crew for a few days and overheard a couple of them talking.”
Searing Need Page 21
