They moved through several sets of doors, down long halls twisting and turning as they approached the back side of the facility. Jim raised his voice to address the whole group as he said, “We have a number of veterinarians on staff to take care of the animals that we have here. It’s my understanding that your focus on our facility is specifically dealing with the outbreak of African Swine Fever. You’ll be spending the next day with the pigs.” With that introduction, Jim pushed through the next set of doors and the group walked in.
Finding himself standing in a large room housing multiple pens, Eric jolted at the sudden cacophony of pigs grunting and squealing, as well as the odor of straw, dirt, feed, and only a hint of fecal matter. A woman wearing navy scrubs, with her feet jammed in muddy, rubber boots, was standing with her back to them, a hose in her hand as she filled a water trough.
Eric was further shocked at the size of the pigs in the pen that she was in. Jesus, I thought they were little piglets. A large pig bumped into the woman, and her feet slipped on the wet floor. Too far away to assist, he watched as she fell to her ass. Scrambling, she jumped up, planted her hands on her now wet hips. Looking down, she fussed at the pig.
“Dr. Hughes!” Jim yelled.
The woman looked up, and he was surprised yet again, even more so than from the sound and the smells in the room. The woman whose ass was now covered in wet mud, was none other than his Lydia. The instant her gaze landed on him, her smile dropped from her face, and her eyes widened in shock. He started to smile, but her eyes quickly narrowed, and she glared.
What the fuck?
9
Lydia recovered quickly from her shock at seeing Eric with his press badge clipped to his front pocket and surrounded by the other journalists. In an attempt to ignore the heat flooding her face, she forced a smile upon her lips. She was aware of the state of her muddy clothing and equally aware of having landed on her ass in front of everyone. Seeing the journalists staring back at her, she wondered if any of them had ever been in a pigpen.
Keeping her eyes pointedly away from Eric, she walked over and nodded her greeting. “Good morning,” she said. Holding up her soiled gloved hands, she joked, “I’ll wait for proper introductions when I can shake your hands.”
The laughter of some met her ears, but she was also very aware that some of the journalists stared at her, unsmiling. She glanced toward Jim, who lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, as though he was not sure what to do.
Deciding to jump right in, she said, “I’m Dr. Lydia Hughes, one of the veterinarians here. I practiced with my own large animal clinic before doing a porcine research internship here at the Kansas Veterinary Medicine School. After my internship, the NBAF was nearing completion and I began work here shortly thereafter. Over the next few days, you will become acquainted with the scope of the porcine research done here, while your scientist counterparts will be with the researchers learning about specific techniques and methods. I know you’ve already heard about how necessary the work here is for the safety of our food sources, both biological and agricultural.”
Unable to help herself, her gaze slid to the side, searching out Eric. His dark eyes were staring straight at her, and even given her cool reception of him, it was not hard to see warmth coming from them. She had seen those eyes from only a few inches away as his body rocked into hers. She felt the heat of blush hit her face once more, only this time she knew it was from memories of the night they had spent together.
Blinking, she noticed as his lips curved into a slight smile, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking about. Irritated that she was letting those memories overshadow the fact that she had seen him happily conversing with one of the protesters, she blinked again, this time to refocus on the group.
Clearing her throat, she continued, “Twice a day, my coworkers and I are in charge of assessing each of the pigs in this large room.” Sweeping her hand out toward the other pens, she added, “They are divided by age and one of our tasks is to assure their health.
“Of course, we realize there are groups that protest what is done here, but the work and research from this facility goes into ensuring that the food on the plates of not only Americans, but of everyone around the world, is safe. I know that many of you represent countries that are hoping to emulate the work that we do here.”
Avoiding Eric’s eyes, she finished, “If you will please follow Jim, he will take you into the next room and show you the basic layout of our office. That will give me the opportunity to clean up so that I may be more presentable.”
This time more smiles met her, plus some bows as the journalists obediently turned and began to follow Jim. She looked around, her eyes scanning over the pigs that she had just been dealing with and spotted the one she wanted to have words with.
Stomping over, she looked down and grumbled, “Thanks a lot. Bumping into me right when everyone was coming into the room. Did you do that on purpose?”
The large pig raised its head up and looked at her while still crunching its food. She leaned over and rubbed her hand over its back before scratching behind its ears. “I still think you’re a miscreant and did that on purpose!”
Grunting was the only response the pig gave her before turning back down to its food. Shaking her head, she turned to walk out of the pen. Her feet stumbled as she saw Eric still standing there, a wide smile on his face.
Lips tight, she cocked her head to the side. “I think the instructions were for you to follow Jim along with the others.”
His eyes stayed on her as she made it to the pen gate, moved through, and turned to assure that it was locked behind her. She wanted to pretend that it did not matter, but she hated that her hair was falling out of its ponytail, her ass and boots were covered in muck and, seeing his eyes drop to her cheek quickly before he grinned, she was fairly sure that she had a smudge.
Moving past him, he halted her with a single word said in his rich, deep voice. “Lydia.”
His voice had the same effect as the first time he had said her name and, she had to admit, she loved the sound of it on his lips. Steeling her spine, she turned to the side and looked at him. “Eric.”
He stared at her for a moment, as though trying to figure her out. Deciding not to give him any more time, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the group.”
His eyes lazily moved from her face, down her body, to her muck-covered boots, before dragging back up again. His lips curved slightly as he said, “It’s good to see you again. And, I confess, interesting to see you here.”
Narrowing her eyes as she turned her body to face him fully, she asked, “What do you mean? You don’t think a woman can be a veterinarian or researcher?”
“No, that’s not it,” he explained, his smile now widening over his face. “I just didn’t imagine you cavorting with pigs.”
Sucking in a quick breath, she leaned forward, and said, “For your information, pigs are highly intelligent, more so than dogs. They are very social and make friends easily. And on top of that, they’re loyal.” Turning, she walked away from him, heading to an employee locker room, knowing she needed a quick shower and change of clothing before joining the group again. The back of her neck burned, and she knew it was due to his gaze staying on her. Knowing that her ass was covered in muck only served to bring the heat of blush back to her face. Again.
* * *
Eric watched as Lydia headed out of the large animal area. Not even trying to keep the smile from his face, he admired the sway of her dirt-covered hips. Unable to remember the last time he was this attracted to a woman, his smile slowly drooped as he reflected on her obvious irritation with him.
We both knew that it was for one night only, although I wouldn’t mind another night. But she’s the one who slipped out of the hotel room the next morning.
With no time to discern the cause of her anger, he hustled back through the doors that Jim had taken the group through. The journalists were listening to Jim as he explai
ned the computer system NBAF used in analyzing the healthy porcine bloodwork and other bodily systems. He had no interest in the topic, only studying the faces of the journalists. He listened to their questions, but more importantly, watched their body language.
Bashiir, Anong, and Seo-yun appeared genuinely interested, their questions readily answered by Jim and, from his responses, they appeared to be relevant. Wang and Zhang stood over to the side, their eyes rarely on Jim, but often looking to each other as they took notes. Egor and Ji-Ho were standing next to each other, and he observed that they seemed to be avoiding eye contact.
Curious. Avoiding eye contact because they don’t want to look at each other…or don’t want to appear that they have any type of connection?
He heard a door open directly behind him, and the scent of antiseptic soap wafted by. He had taken the position near the door, hoping to be there as soon Lydia walked in. He was not disappointed as she stopped next to him.
Glancing to the side, he saw that she was wearing clean scrubs, rubber-soled clogs on her feet, and her hair was freshly brushed back into a neat ponytail. Her face now scrubbed clean, with just a hint of makeup, was as alluring as ever.
She continued to face forward toward the journalists and Jim, and he smiled at her obvious attempt to ignore him. The information that Jim had given him now came slamming back to the forefront of his mind. A widow. A single mom to a grown child. Staring at her, she did not appear to be over the age of forty. She must’ve been a teenager when she gave birth.
As though she could follow the thoughts moving through his head, she jerked her head around, her ponytail slapping her cheek with its force. Keeping her voice low, she growled, “Stop staring at me!”
His smile widened, and he said, “I can’t help it. My eyes always go to the most beautiful thing in the room. And that, Lydia, is you.”
* * *
Somehow, Lydia managed to get through the rest of the morning with Jim’s help. The group was released to meet in the cafeteria for lunch, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the journalists filed out of the room. She had already told Jim to make sure he left for lunch, since he had worked so hard in Beth’s absence.
She dropped her chin and stared at her shoes for a moment, relishing the quiet in the room. She had not realized how much she enjoyed her quiet work, spent mostly with Beth and Jim, only broken up occasionally with the staff meetings that she was required to attend. She even considered the pigs to be more peaceful than a group of journalists filled with questions and comments and never-ending discussions.
A hand landed on her shoulder, and she jumped. Whirling around, her wide eyes landed on Eric. “What on earth are you still doing here?”
His smile from earlier was gone, and he bit out, “You and me need to talk.”
Huffing, she stepped back so that his hand was no longer on her shoulder. “I cannot imagine what you and I have to talk about.”
“That. That right there.”
Her brow crinkled, and her head jerked back slightly. “What?”
His fists landed on his hips, his gaze pinning her to the spot. “I thought we had a good time together,” he declared. “You were the one who left before I woke up. So, I want to know what’s changed, and why you’re so angry?”
Snorting in anger, she said, “I don’t owe you any explanation.”
She started to walk past him when his arm shot out, his hand clamping on her upper arm. The hold was firm but not painful. She looked down at his hand and then lifted her gaze to his. Opening her mouth, she did not get anything out before he continued.
“Lydia, I agree that just because my cock has been in you gives me no rights to an answer. But given the fact that when you came, you held my gaze and breathed my name, that tells me you were not just getting off, and I know I sure as hell wasn’t. So, I’d like to know what happened between then and now.”
She stood for a moment, her insides quivering, but it had nothing to do with anger and more to do with the fact that his hand on her arm sent tingles throughout her body. Hating that fact, she turned slowly to face him. Her voice now calm and steady, she replied, “While it would be unfair for me to consider the press to be my enemy, I saw you smiling and laughing with Chester Thompson, and believe me, he is the enemy.”
* * *
The afternoon crawled as Eric and the journalists continued their tour of the porcine area and the basic research being accomplished. They were not allowed on the lower floors of the building, where the more dangerous research was going on. Every time he was near Lydia, his fingers twitched to pull her close. Just standing next to her, he fought the urge to grab her hand, drag her through one of the doors, press his body up against hers, and explain that he was not who she thought he was.
Clenching his jaw, he knew that line of thinking was fruitless. As far as she knew, he was a member of the press who was going to be talking to protesters as well as scientists and reporting back on whatever he learned. Unable to keep the heavy sigh from slipping through his lips, he caught her staring at him, her brow furrowed as though she were trying to figure him out. At least that’s better than her glaring and hating my guts.
Looking away, he focused his attention back on the group of journalists. Seo-yun and Ji-Ho had been staying fairly close together since they had come back from lunch. Now, Egor had moved to where he was standing between Wang and Zhang.
It was second nature to not look at them as just part of the press, but as representatives of their various countries. Earlier, South Korea appeared close to Russia, and now Russia was right in the middle of China. Because they were unable to have any electronic devices inside the NBAF, they were each taking notes with pen and paper. He felt like a schoolteacher, staring at the pupils taking a test, when he caught Wang’s gaze staying on the notebook in which Egor was writing.
Moving closer to the large computer screen that Lydia was referring to in her speech, he made the pretense of taking off his glasses in order to clean them, holding them up occasionally as though looking at the lens to determine there were no smudges. In doing so, he focused them over Egor’s shoulder, making sure that Chris would be able to see the notes that were being written.
Egor glanced behind him and glared, but he lifted his shoulders in a shrug, and said, “Can’t see a damn thing without my glasses.”
Besides the camera in his glasses, Chris had fitted him with another one today, knowing there would be a lot of movement and people to keep up with. Chris had explained that the one now in his tie had a wide-angle lens that was able to see and record information at almost 180°. Taking advantage of that, he walked around the room slowly, taking notes as a journalist would, while keeping an eye on all the occupants. As Lydia finished her portion of the afternoon’s lecture, Jim took over to complete the discussion and lead the group outside, so that she would be able to get back into the animal area.
As she walked past the group now exiting, he moved in the opposite direction and made his way toward her. Glaring at him, she whispered, “Have you got ants in your pants? You’ve done nothing but walk around for almost an hour!”
His lips curved as he responded, “Now, Lydia. You know what I have in my pants.”
“Urgh,” she growled, pushing past him to go back to the pens.
As she shoved through the doors, he could not help but chuckle. Her blush indicated she was not as unaffected as she pretended to be.
10
Sitting in the chair in his hotel room with his feet propped up on the coffee table, Eric listened as Chris excitedly explained what he was finding.
“Of course, I don’t read Russian, but I’m sending this to the language guru at DHS that Silas put me in contact with. You got really good shots, but a few are kind of wiggly.”
Having been staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, he dropped his chin and pinned Chris with a glare. “I did the best I could considering I could hardly walk up to Egor and say, ‘Pardon me, would you please let me get a clear pic
ture of your notes, which coincidentally the Chinese journalist is already staring at.”
Chris cackled, and said, “You’re so funny!”, before staring back at his computer screen.
Eric dropped his head back and continued staring at the ceiling, thinking the last thing he wanted to do was provide Chris with any comedic relief. “Once you get finished going through some of what we got today, see if anyone has a tie to the Foundation for Liberating Animals. That’s who I’m interviewing tomorrow, and I’d like to know if any of the journalists here have been involved with them.”
Chris nodded and, with a few more clicks on his computer, said, “I know you’ve already done your research on them, but you need to be really careful. These people are not just animal-rights activists, they’re extremists. They consider themselves to be above the law when it comes to interrupting scientific research, and that includes death threats, violence, arson, vandalism…hell, the list goes on and on.”
Shaking his head, he thought about the difference between the FLA and Chester’s ideals. According to Chester, he had no problem with research, being involved in the animal industry himself. Chester just hated the risk of contamination of his land and cattle. But, he reminded himself, that did not mean that Chester was not involved in threats to the facility.
Chris continued to search but so far was unable to come up with an overt connection between any of the journalists and either of the protesting groups. Just as he was about to close up his computer and head back to his room, Eric stopped him with a request.
“Don’t read anything into this, but can you get me the home address for Dr. Lydia Hughes?”
Chris’ blue eyes widened for a few seconds before grinning widely. Much to Eric’s satisfaction, Chris made no comment, other than, “No problem, man.” After only a few clicks on his keyboard, he said, “Just sent it to your email. That way, when you open it on your phone, it can go straight to your GPS.” Closing the top of his computer, he nodded his head as he stood and walked out of his room, calling out, “See you tomorrow.”
SEAL Together: Silver SEALs Series Page 7
