“You had to have recorded them somewhere,” he said. “Companies like Genism cover their asses. Did the subjects sign releases, legal documents?”
“Yeah. Of course they did. If the suspect works in Genism’s legal department, they’d have access to all of the waivers with subjects’ personal information and the numbers I’d assigned. All they’d have to do is look at the results for a match. Which narrows it down to about...one hundred people with access to that information.” Her shoulders deflated. Draping the towel onto the back of the chair, she shuffled through the paperwork searching for another hand-drawn diagram and picked it up. An employee flow chart. In her next breath, she tossed it back to the counter. “I take that back. That does not narrow the suspect pool.”
Only one name came to mind.
“What about your lawyer? What’s his name again?” The SOB who’d dared put his hand on her at the police station after her interrogation.
“Blake Henson? He didn’t have a scar when he handed me his business card at the crime scene. Believe me, I checked. Has to be someone else.” Waylynn bit her bottom lip before running one hand through her hair. The weight of her gaze pressurized the air in his lungs as he studied the almost-completed list of personnel she’d constructed from memory. “Are we going to talk about what’s on your computer?”
“It’s not mine. I’m holding it for a friend.” A laugh rumbled through him at her smile, but he knew exactly what she was referring to. The file folder. The only file folder on his desktop. Smoothing his uninjured hand against the counter, he straightened. “How’d you get into it?”
“I made it through twenty years of school. It wasn’t hard to guess your password.” Maneuvering the laptop toward him, she presented the individual files he’d been collecting the day he joined the Blackhawk Security team. Coworkers. Clients. People he’d investigated for his clients. Every shred of their lives was in that file. Bank records, mortgage paperwork, daily schedules, family, affairs, where their children went to school. Everything he needed to know to do his job sat in a password-protected folder only he’d had access to. Until now. Okay, he hadn’t needed it all, but knowing the people he came into contact with—sometimes on a daily basis—fed his inner survivalist. Never knew when a bit of blackmail could help the situation. “I didn’t read them, if that’s what you’re worried about. My only question is where’s my file?”
“You really want to know?” Hesitation showed in her gaze and he couldn’t help but smile. He could draw this out, have some much-needed fun after what’d happened over the last few days, but he tapped his index finger against his temple. “In my head.”
“You don’t have a physical or digital file?” she asked.
“Nope.” Rounding the counter, he tugged a cabinet door open and took down two mugs. Seconds ticked by. Maybe a full minute as he poured coffee into the mugs and offered her one. Black. The way she liked it. He handed her a cupful. “Why? Are you feeling left out?”
“No, it’s just... You’ve run background checks on the people you work with, even your boss, and, from the looks of it, anyone who might’ve even road raged at you on the freeway.” Sipping on her coffee, she steered her focus back to the computer screen. “Why not me?”
Elliot took a gulp of dark liquid, reveling in the burn down his throat. Settling his lower back against the opposite counter, he increased the space between them. A lie would be easy. He hadn’t gotten around to it. He knew everything he needed to know about her. She wasn’t interesting enough to investigate. Lie. Lie. Lie. If he was being honest with himself, there was only one reason he hadn’t dug into her personal life as he’d done with everyone else he came into contact with. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her.
“Because you’re the last person I think of at night when I go to sleep and the first person I think of when I wake up.” Setting his coffee on the granite, he rubbed the muscle by the hole in his shoulder. He stepped around the counter. “You’re the only woman I know who can recite every bad ’90s country song from memory and make a crappy day better with a single smile.” His body craved hers as he slowly closed the distance between them. “You’re the most intelligent, beautiful, sexy and puzzling scientist I know and I guess, when it came right down to it—” Elliot lowered his mouth over hers “—I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“How thoughtful of you.” She notched her chin higher to meet his mouth. “So what now?”
Sliding his uninjured arm across her lower back, he hiked her into his chest. Ferocious need raged through him. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Lethal to the single rule he’d laid out for himself when he’d gotten out of Iraq: no emotional attachments. But, right now, the thought of losing freedom to this woman only strengthened that need more. “Well, we’ve eaten and caught up on some sleep. I think we need to stick to our plan and make out.”
“I do love a man with a plan.” Waylynn intertwined her fingers with his and tugged him up the stairs after her.
* * *
HE’D BROKEN HIS RULES. For her.
The thought coaxed a smile as she set her ear against his bare chest. Ridges and valleys of muscle flexed beneath her as she planted a kiss on his sternum. What she wouldn’t give to stay here forever. Forget Alexis’s murder. Forget that’d she’d been framed for killing her own assistant. Forget finding the person responsible or the fact she’d been let go from the only job she’d ever cared about. How much more did they have to go through before giving up was okay? How much more before she got her life back?
Resting her chin on his sternum, she studied the details of his face and filled with heat all over again. Her pulse hammered behind her ears. She loved him. She’d known it before, but she was sure of it now more than ever. What other reason was there for having such a strong reaction to him? The last few hours in this bed had been everything and more. Not only physically but mentally, emotionally. For a little while, she’d forgotten the need to survive and...lived. And the idea she’d have to go the rest of her life as just friends from here on out threatened to shred her apart on the inside. Wasn’t going to happen. They’d forged something new, something better, stronger than before. Not even he could deny that.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Slowly, he traced a fingertip over her spine and a shudder of pleasure washed through her. She squirmed against him, the wrinkled sheets pulling away from them as she narrowly avoided his injured shoulder. “How in the world did we go this long without jumping each other?”
She set her forehead against his chest and planted a soft kiss over his heart. “More like how did we do it all those times without tearing your stitches.”
Following the bruise pattern along her jaw, he kept his touch light. Darkness chased the desire from his eyes in an instant—most likely brought on by the memory of how she’d gotten the bruise in the first place—and she ran her hand through his beard in an attempt to keep him in the here and now. “Even if I did, it would have been worth it.”
“I’m glad you think so, but sooner or later, we’ve got to leave this cabin.” Waylynn slipped her hand over the back of his, then brought it to her mouth as he’d done downstairs before she rolled away from the comfort of his warmth. Wrapping one of the sheets around her body, she threw her legs over the bed to stand, but was pulled back to the mattress. A shout escaped from between her lips as she fell straight into his arms. He hovered above her, that gut-wrenching smile raising her desire all over again.
“I’ve got food storage under this bed like you wouldn’t believe. We don’t have to go anywhere.” He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose, her senses going wild. Would it always be like this between them? This undeniable excitement whenever he touched her? “But if you insist, we can always hook up the cabin to the SUV and travel, get out of Anchorage.”
“You’re joking, right?” He couldn’t be serious. “What about your deal with Blackhawk Security? Won’t the men you c
onned out of their money come after you if Sullivan stops paying?”
“Can’t come after me if they can’t find me,” he said. “I’ve still got contacts and cash. We could change our names, hit the road. Never look back.”
Waylynn sat up, twisted around to face him. She clutched the sheets around her, the heat between them draining from her veins every second he actually considered picking up and leaving. Had that been his plan all along? Pay his debt, then disappear? Would she have come home from work one day to find his cheap camping chair on the front porch empty and his belongings gone? “You’ve thought this through.”
“I’ve never been good staying in one place,” he said.
Her brain automatically searched for the sarcastic remark that would sweep all this talk of him leaving under the rug, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll come with me.” He slipped his hand into hers. “You’ve got nothing left here, Doc. Your family is gone, the lab’s board of directors let you go. And don’t forget the killer who put a target on your back. Say yes.”
He was right. She had nothing left here. The realization tightened the grip she had on the sheets. She opened her mouth to answer, but a high-pitched ringing shot her blood pressure higher. Waylynn exhaled hard as he reached for his phone beside the bed. Saved by the bell.
“It’s Kate. I asked her to construct a profile on this guy. Hopefully she has something useful.” He shoved off the bed and answered the phone. “Go for Dunham.”
Leveraging the phone between his uninjured shoulder and jaw, he pushed his legs into his jeans, then disappeared down the stairs, only tendrils of his conversation audible from this spot where she’d gotten a glimpse of the future. “When?”
Leave Anchorage? Reaching into her overnight bag, she pulled fresh clothing from the bottom, ignoring the heavy weight inside, and dressed as fast as she could. What were they supposed to do? Ignore the fact she’d been framed for murder by running? She was still the main suspect in Alexis Jacobs’s investigation. Dr. Stover’s attempt on her life had only derailed the case, not solved it. Anchorage PD wouldn’t let her leave the city, let alone leave the state. They’d issue a warrant for her arrest and, given the theory somebody from the lab had started this nightmare, she wouldn’t get far. Genism Corporation was one of the largest genetics laboratories in the country. Their reach—their resources—extended further than Waylynn could ever imagine.
She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.
Beeping from Elliot’s security panel rang loud in her ears as he stepped outside onto the cabin’s small front porch. The door clicked closed, leaving her alone for the first time in days.
She’d grown up here, built her life, built a career. She’d stared down an entire city of citizens convinced she’d murdered her father and held her head high and her middle finger higher. She deserved to be happy here, had given everything to this town. Could she really give that up?
No.
Not because some psychopath had destroyed her life’s work, and not because the man she’d fallen for had his own ideals of freedom. If Elliot wanted to leave Anchorage behind, leave her behind... Her throat threatened to close in on itself. She’d survive. Just as she’d survived everything else in her life. Making her way downstairs, she dived back into the work she’d started before she’d given Elliot everything she had left. She could rebuild her research. It might take another decade, she might never find another lab to take her on and finance the trials she needed, but she could do this. She’d done it once. She could do it again. If she could get to Genism’s server, she might be able to salvage what was left of her career.
Typing in her login and password to the lab’s remote access, she nearly cried from relief. The board hadn’t shut down her access yet. Her trial notes, her research, patient results, everything was there. But hadn’t Matt said the files were damaged during the break-in? Scrambling to save ten years’ worth of research as fast as she could, Waylynn swept a hand through her hair to fight the anxiety climbing up her throat. The lab’s IT department might’ve been waiting to see if she’d try her access. Even though she’d poured her soul into this work, the research technically belonged to Genism. She couldn’t copy and paste it into her next job, but she could use it to rebuild. She didn’t have to start from scratch as she’d feared. Shoving Elliot’s thumb drive into the port on the laptop, she waited for the device’s window to load.
Then froze.
There was only one other file on the drive. Labeled with Nathan Hargraves’s name. The thumbnail detailed the contents. Her father’s police report. Her stomach dropped, the edges of her vision darkening as she held her breath. Elliot had lied to her. He’d claimed he hadn’t investigated her past. Waylynn swallowed through the gravitational urge to run. He’d obviously read the report. Had he discovered who’d really killed her father?
The security system announced his opening the front door, and a rush of cool morning air raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Or was that the weight of his attention drilling into her spine? “We’ve got a problem.”
Waylynn clicked off the thumb drive’s window, leaving only Genism’s server screen visible on the laptop. After everything they’d been through, after what they’d shared upstairs in that bed, why would he lie to her about his own private investigation? Her heartbeat thundered behind her ears. The police hadn’t been able to solve her father’s murder, but Elliot wasn’t police. He wasn’t held back by the same laws, wasn’t scared to cross the line when it came to solving a case. And it wasn’t in his nature to let things lie when the evidence ran out. She trusted him with her life, thought she loved him. He was good and intelligent and her best friend. But if he’d read that file, then he knew the truth Anchorage PD hadn’t been able to prove without the murder weapon and there was nothing she could do about it. Bile worked up her throat. Her body felt heavy, weighed down, but she stood strong.
Crossing her arms across her midsection, she sat on the edge of the bar stool and fought the nervousness blazing through her. “Just one problem? Last time I counted, we had more than that.”
Tossing his phone onto the counter beside the laptop and her headphones, Elliot ran a hand down his thick beard. Those hands had touched her oversensitized skin less than an hour ago, had awakened things inside her she’d fully believed she couldn’t have. He’d saved her life—twice—but, more important, had saved her future. A future with a man who wasn’t afraid of what she might become.
She studied him. No smile. No sarcastic remark. Pushing away from the bar stool, she closed in on him as his fisted hands shook at his sides. The tendons between his shoulders and neck strained to the point she again thought he might tear open his stitches. Panic flared hot and bright behind her sternum. “Elliot? What happened?”
He locked violent gray eyes on her. “Someone broke into Liz’s home and stole the hard drive.”
Chapter Eleven
The bastard had gone after his team, threatened Elizabeth Dawson, her family. Blackhawk’s network security analyst and her baby had been able to get out of the house while Liz’s significant other, Braxton, had taken shots at the SOB. Police were at the house now, taking statements, but this could’ve gone a whole other direction. Elliot pushed a hand through his hair. Damn it. He hadn’t meant for this. Hadn’t meant for any of this when he’d handed over that drive.
“Is she okay?” Concern deepened the lines around Waylynn’s mouth as she sank against the bar stool again. “She has a baby—”
“Everyone is fine. Just a bit shook up.” He said the words more for himself than to comfort her. Anything to keep himself from charging down there, leaving Waylynn unprotected and tracking the suspect down himself. “Kate’s with them at the house. Wanted me to know they didn’t mention the hard drive to the police.”
Waylynn nodded. “Genism would’ve cl
aimed intellectual property and taken the drive before we could read what was on it. Probably destroyed the device to hide whatever was on it to prevent a leak.”
“Yeah, well, Liz hasn’t been able to get much other than the lab’s logo off any of the files yet, so I’m not sure how much use the drive is going to be.” How the man who’d broken in knew about it in the first place was a mystery. Alexis Jacobs’s apartment had been searched and cleaned before they’d gotten there. Could’ve been the same perp who’d broken into the assistant’s apartment and Liz’s home. “But it proves Alexis broke company policy. Something in your work together was important enough for her to risk her job and a possible lawsuit. The killer has to know exactly what’s on that hard drive and wants it enough to kill for. Otherwise, why go after it at all?”
“Your stitches are bleeding.” Waylynn crossed the small space between them, her geranium scent tempting him to pull her back up the stairs. She smoothed her fingers over the bandage and peeled back a corner, but the mutual pleasure they’d shared less than an hour ago had cooled. Significantly. Maneuvering him to the bar stool, she turned her back to him. “Sit down. I’ll grab the first aid kit.”
He hadn’t noticed the blood, his head too wrapped up in the investigation, in her. Elliot slid his hand around hers, turning her into him. “We’re going to catch this guy, Doc. He’ll never touch you again.”
“I know.” Her voice hollowed as she ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit she’d formed over the last few days. “But how many more people are going to get hurt in the process? First Alexis. Then Matt. Now the people on your team are in danger. Their families. I...” Waylynn pulled her hand out of his. “I’ve lost everyone close to me. I can’t lose you, too.”
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