Acceptable Risks (4 page)

“I’m not. Well, I wasn’t. I watched you trip over that guy’s legs—”

“Yeah, can we not mention that part anymore?” Jason cut in. “Kinda ruins the whole hero thing.”

Matt’s eyes crinkled but he didn’t seem to have enough energy to smile. “I saw you go over. Heard your body bouncing from rail to rail. Watched you hit the steps eight floors down. I didn’t think there was any way you could be alive.”

Jason knew the rest. How he somehow hadn’t hit his head, at least not hard enough for brain trauma. He’d ruptured his spleen, lacerated his liver, and damaged enough intestine to require a resection and a temporary colostomy (thank God he’d been asleep until after they reversed
that
). Plus all the shredded muscle-shattered bone stuff.

They didn’t need to dwell on the how. Jason said, “No one seems to know if you found out what it was about. Who attacked us and why.”

“Hummingbird wouldn’t still be here if we hadn’t.” Matt slumped over and rubbed his hands together, slowly, between his knees. “Kolanko’s ex-wife—not Adrina’s mother—found out he hadn’t updated his will. I don’t know how.”

“Probably boinking the lawyer.”

“Probably. Anyway, the guys in the stairwell talked. They were hired guns, no loyalty to who hired them. They’re in jail on reduced sentences. The ex has been extradited from Italy and is awaiting trial. The will’s been changed.”

Jason pushed away from the treadmill and started pacing.
Stupid fucking reason to be killed
. He was glad he wasn’t really dead.

“And the aftermath?” He had a feeling this would be worse. When you hired a company to protect you, you expected a low number of explosions. Like none.

“It hit immediately,” Matt admitted. “Half our ongoing private sector clients have fired us. The government hasn’t managed to find a way out of the stuff we do for them already, but they haven’t given us anything new. The media frenzy has died down, of course, it always does, but in the industry there’s still a furor. Some say our failure on the Kolanko job has damaged relations all over the industry.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, if people believe it.”

And Jason had been down here running on a fucking treadmill, listening to Harry Potter audiobooks for the last three months. “I should have been—”

“No, you shouldn’t. It was hard enough losing you the first time.” Matt stopped. Swallowed. “The risk of infection was too great for you to be out.”

Jason nodded. It didn’t help his guilt, but it was reality and couldn’t be changed. “I appreciate what you’ve done, Matt. But—”

“There’s a reason I had you declared dead.” Matt rose and came closer to him, visibly steeling himself for whatever he was going to say. “The technology we used to fix you is a big deal. It can mean saving a lot of lives. But none of it is approved for use in humans yet. We didn’t know if it would work, and there wasn’t time… I had to make a quick decision.”

Jason bit back his response. He knew he was an experiment, and didn’t blame his friend or the doctors who, except for Gabby, treated him like a lab specimen. So he couldn’t yell at Matt for that. It wasn’t what he was really angry about, anyway.

“There was no way you should have survived the fall,” Matt continued. “If anyone had known you did, we wouldn’t have been able to save you.”

Jason nodded. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful or anything. But resentment burned in his gut for the implications of the lie.

“Plus, I knew if anyone found out about the technology, found out it had worked, we’d have enemies after all of us, from worldwide.”

“Why won’t we when I go topside, anyway?” Matt didn’t respond right away, and the resentment swelled. “Because they won’t know, right?” This time, he didn’t wait for a response. “Fuck that, Matthew. I’m not changing my identity.” It was one thing to use dangerous technology to save his life, and to use him to test dangerous technology. It was another to strip Jason of everything he’d done and been for thirty-six years. Every experience, every success and failure.

“You won’t have to,” Matt said, derailing the head of steam Jason was building.

He scowled. “How do you figure that? I’m dead.” He didn’t
want
to change his identity, but Matt’s decision six months ago had left them little choice. His intentions had been good, and Jason understood he’d been protecting both him and the company. So for Matt to now say he didn’t have to change his identity… His brain chewed on that for only a few seconds before he understood.

“Crap.”

“Yeah.” Matthew shoved his hand through his hair. “We can do some damage control. Since you left your assets to me—”

“Back up.” He pushed away from the treadmill and faced his best friend. “You’re not going to keep hiding me.” Matt didn’t move, didn’t change expression, but Jason knew he was right. “You’ll let them find out I’m alive. Why?”

“I’ll get to that.” Matt’s voice was strained. “As I was saying, since you left your assets to me—”

“Actually, I left my assets to my parents, under your guidance as trust manager.” Security at Hummingbird’s level was lucrative, and Jason had built what his mother called “quite the nest egg.” Not wanting his parents to face the repercussions of suddenly having a huge sum of money, he’d set it up to take care of them for life without causing a burden.

“Exactly,” Matt acknowledged. “They’re getting their allowance, and having a lot of fun with it, you’ll be glad to know. But I created a pocket fund for you. It’s been paying your ongoing expenses, including your property taxes and housekeeper.”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “My home is still there?”

“Yeah.”

“My neighbors—”

“Moved out, a month ago. Place is still vacant.”

What a coincidence. He only had one family living close enough to notice his presence, and they were gone? Matt had been busy.

“How come I didn’t know about this stuff?” He motioned around the lab. “Before, I mean. It had to be long-term research.”

Matthew winced. “Yeah, I kinda hoped you’d be mad enough about the rest to not mention that.” He rubbed the back of his neck and left his hand there. “It’s a separate company, not part of Hummingbird. And what they were doing was so sensitive, so advanced—”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Matt didn’t talk for several seconds. Finally, he admitted quietly, “It was so sensitive and advanced, even before we used it on you, it skirted moral if not legal channels. I didn’t think you’d approve.”

Jason watched him straighten and turn away. An unfamiliar warmth soothed the burning. He’d been wallowing down here for months, thinking one thing, and the opposite was the truth.

He cleared his throat and snatched at the towel hanging over the treadmill, just for distraction. “Okay, so.” The words stuck, and he cleared his throat again. “So. The risk of someone wanting the technology and coming after either me or the company.”

Matt turned around again, his face tightening. “I figured it would be acceptable to you.”

It was. “Except—”

“Except I underestimated our enemies.”

“Someone already knows.”

“Suspects.”

“Any idea who?” Jason’s mind clicked into work mode and started considering possibilities.

“Someone who knows me. Knows us, and what would hurt us most.”

His brain halted on one name. “Kemmerling.”

“I think so. I don’t know for sure.”

Isaac Kemmerling was a former employee. Slightly younger than Jason, he’d been an excellent agent for Hummingbird until two years ago, when he was promoted to mission leader, got cocky and risked all his agents’ lives on a job, and was censured. He didn’t take well to that and left the company. Since then, he’d done his best—unsuccessfully—to discredit Hummingbird and “take down” Matthew and Jason, as he’d threatened in a taped interview with a small-town Maryland reporter. It made sense he’d try to capitalize on the misfortune following the Kolanko incident.

“Who else could it be?” he asked, his mind searching for possibilities and not coming up with any.

Matt shrugged. “No one we’ve pinpointed. No one who has the knowledge, contacts, and especially motive to come after me. I could be wrong. But it’s the best place to start.”

Jason nodded. “So that’s what you need me for.” He looked around for a pad and pen. “To investigate Kemmerling without anyone knowing.”

“Not exactly.”

Matt’s voice had tightened even further, and Jason stilled, his heart thudding even though he had no idea what was coming.

“I got intel today that leads me to think Kemmerling is going after Lark,” Matt said.

Jason swallowed. “What kind of intel?”

Matthew pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. It was a single sheet with a printed photo. Lark—
whoa
, had she grown up!—stood in the shower, her hair slicked back, eyes closed. Luckily for Matt’s sanity, Jason thought, she had her arms in front of her.

Jason didn’t think that helped much, though, considering the red laser sight in the center of her forehead.

Chapter Four

“Hang on, I’m looking.”

Lark startled at the strange voice in what was supposed to be an empty, secure greenhouse. Wrist-deep in soil, she squinted through the leaves of the plant she was repotting, trying to see the person who’d spoken. He definitely wasn’t any of the BotMed scientists who had access.

The figure moved toward her from a few aisles away, but with an odd gliding step that seemed to indicate stealth.

She followed her instincts and warily shook dirt off her hands, sidestepping between the tables in the opposite direction of the person at the other end. He didn’t speak again, but she could see flashes of white between green leaves and purple and blue flowers as he kept coming her way. She shifted to stay out of sight, not frightened so much as suspicious and annoyed.

Fishing her cell phone from the pocket of her khakis, she kept moving, keeping some distance between them but not heading toward the door. Her father would freak if he knew she wasn’t fleeing, but she was
not
leaving sensitive, top-secret work at the mercy of this…whoever.

The call she speed-dialed went through and Phil’s voice said, “Security.” Lark ducked below the edge of a table and whispered her situation.

“Don’t hang up,” Phil told her. “People are on their way.”

She rose, trying to spot the guy. He could be innocent, a visitor or new employee Ralph had forgotten to tell her about. But the unease she’d felt in the shower the other day returned, and she wondered if this was connected. She had to get a look at him without getting in his way. The wooden tables supporting the plants had cross braces that made it impossible to crawl under them. She crouched low and settled for running along the end of the rows until she saw movement again, then got down on her hands and knees and eased forward.

Man, would she feel stupid if he was legit and caught her doing this.

The man was moving away from her down the aisle, his head turning back and forth as he checked the tags on the plants. The light on his Bluetooth earpiece pulsed, signaling an open call.

“I don’t see her. Not yet. Look, the tags aren’t in English. It’s not going to be easy—” He tilted his head back, an exasperated move. “Well, which do you want, the paperwork or the plants? I’ll try, boss, but if she doesn’t show up… Okay, fine. Girl, papers, plants. In that order. Yeah, I got it. I said, I’ve got it. No, you don’t have to—hey. Crap.” He ended the call and pulled a pistol from a shoulder holster under his preppy jacket, muttering something under his breath.

Fury and fear bubbled through her, making it difficult to hold her position. Fury won the short skirmish. This guy was after her work. Which study? His tag checking didn’t give a clue. Why would he want any of it? Her research was always preliminary. Development occurred in other departments.

His motives didn’t matter. She’d ferret them out later, after she saved the data.

She eased back on her haunches. She needed a weapon. Most of the stuff here heavy enough to do damage was also too heavy for her to lift. Or too short to use without moving within the guy’s reach, which would be stupid. She had basic self-defense and kept up with training, but there was no point in putting it to the test if she could avoid it. She watched him turn the corner into the main aisle, and then inspiration struck. She wound through the greenhouse to the room in the back. Her speed meant she wasn’t very silent, and her keys rattled when she opened the door, but she had one advantage. This was her place.

The man’s footsteps echoed as he hurried in her direction. Adrenaline spiked. Lark grabbed one of the transfer buckets and a hose and braced herself. When the man pushed open the door to the storeroom, she flung the contents of the bucket—dry fertilizer—in his face. The bucket clattered to the floor and she raised the hose, spraying the sputtering, spitting man with water. He yelled as the mix ran into his eyes.

“That’s got to burn.” She strode forward as he backed away, keeping the spray on his face so he couldn’t recover and come after her, or run away. He smacked into a stand of pots, knocking them over, and staggered as they tumbled around his feet.

Lark dropped the hose and picked up a clay pot, swinging it at his head.

“That’s enough.”

Startled at the voice behind her, Lark pulled her swing and spun.

The man was young, only a couple of years older than her, and good looking in a sparkly-blue-eyes, pale-blond-hair, tennis-muscles kind of way. But the glee on his face almost made him look ugly.

“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded, still angry. “How do you people keep getting in?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna tell you.” The blond eyed the other man, who whimpered and rubbed at his face. “Did you blind him?”

“Probably.”

He tsked. “That doesn’t make me happy.”

Lark didn’t say anything. If these guys knew anything about her, they weren’t surprised by her response to their attempt to steal her work. And her, apparently.

“Oh, well. Come on, Donald.”

The man tried to follow the command. The tennis blond reached for Lark’s wrist. She attempted to jerk away, but he was ready for her and held on.

“Ah-ah!” He held up a finger. “Your father taught me well. And unlike you, I’ve used what he taught me for years.”

Lark frowned at him. “You—what?” Her mind raced as she leaned away from him, her arm stretched out. Pieces came together, clicking quickly into place. Her father’s business might be struggling, but he had few true enemies. Her heart sank. “You’re Isaac Kemmerling.”
Shit
.

He smiled. “Daddy talks shop at home. Great, that saves us the whole getting-acquainted period.” He laughed and tugged on her arm. “Come quietly and no one gets hurt.” He turned to leave.

A man Lark hadn’t seen creeping up on them slammed his fist into Isaac’s face. He crumpled without a sound, his slack fingers sliding off Lark’s wrist.

She gaped at the new guy. He was blond, too, but a darker color that would bleach into streaks in the sun. His skin tone was “computer geek” but his body was—well.

Then he looked up, and all the edges of her vision went fuzzy and dark. She swayed and blinked fast to bring it back. A hard, warm arm wrapped around her back, grounding her, and she stared up into the green-gold eyes of a dead man.

“Jason,” she breathed.

He grinned. “I guess Matt didn’t tell you.”

Before she could respond, blue-uniformed security men flooded the building, fanning out and scampering up aisles, peering under tables.

“They’re over here!” she called.

“We have to go,” Jason said, his arm tightening around her.

“I can’t, I have to—”

“We have to go
now
.”

Lark didn’t argue. She should stay with company security, talk to the police, make sure the two men on the floor—one still, one writhing—were taken into custody. But this man was her father’s best friend, and though she hadn’t seen him for years before he died, she trusted him.

It didn’t keep her from casting a reluctant look over her shoulder at her rare, delicate plants as she and Jason trotted behind a row of cabinets and around to the main door, now stupidly unsecured. Jason gave her a significant look as he pushed through, and she nodded. Whatever was going on, there was a distinct lack of safety here at the moment.

Jason led her to a navy sedan she recognized as Hummingbird issue. He’d obviously driven here from DC.

“Is my father okay?” she asked as he opened the passenger door for her.

“He’s fine.”

“Where is he?” She tried to look at his face for assurance, but he firmly guided her into the car and she only caught a glimpse of determination.

“I don’t know. I last saw him at the company.” He closed the door behind her and jogged around the front of the car, sliding in and starting the ignition with a surprising economy of motion, given what his condition should be.

“That had to be hours ago, at least,” she argued. “Can I call him?”

Jason handed her a slim cell phone. “Press and hold one.”

She did, watching “Matt” appear on the display, then lifting the phone to her ear with a sudden surge of fear. Jason died six months ago. This guy couldn’t be Jason. She’d been stupid to get into the car with him. She had no proof her father sent him, or that she was even calling her father. She put her hand on the armrest, near the handle, ready to dive out when the car slowed, holding her breath while the line rang.

The third ring cut off abruptly. “Did you get her?”

“Dad?”

“Lark.” His relief made her ear tingle. “You’re okay?”

“When I was six, I built a sand castle. I was very proud of it and angry when the waves came up and destroyed it. What did I say?”

Her father chuckled. “Good girl. You said ‘pissflaps.’”

Tension released, her muscles weakening. Jason glanced at her from the corner of his eye before turning the car onto the main road to the entrance gate. She thought she saw approval before he looked back at the road, and warmth suffused her. Her brow wrinkled, but she concentrated on the phone.

“Dad, what’s going on? I’m with Jason, but he’s—”

“Dead, I know. I tried to call you to tell you he was on his way but you didn’t answer.”

“I turned my phone to vibrate while I was working. I didn’t feel it.” Her father didn’t have to say what she knew he was thinking:
Typical.
“Dad, how—” But understanding hit her in a wave of shocked euphoria. “Oh, my God, it worked. You did it.” Without thinking, she grabbed Jason’s forearm. He hissed in a breath and she let go, quickly. “You used the regeneration therapy.”
It had worked
. Suddenly, Isaac and his goon trying to get her and her work made more sense.

Now Jason looked at her full on, his slightly parted lips the only expression of his surprise.

“We did,” her father admitted. “Among other things. Look, Lark, I’m in the middle of something—”

“Important, I’m sure. And Jason will tell me everything. Yada yada. I know the drill.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I love you, Larkling.”

She winced and was glad he couldn’t see it. “I love you, too, Dad.”

“I’ll see you soon. Let me talk to Jason for a second.”

She handed the phone over and listened to Jason give her father a shorthand version of what had happened. They were done in less than a minute, and Jason laid the closed phone in the console between them.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To a safe house on the other side of the city. Tomorrow we’ll go to your apartment and get whatever you need for a short trip. We’ll meet your father back at Hummingbird.”

“And when we get to the safe house you’ll tell me what’s going on.”

“Yep.”

“All of it.”

“Yep.”

“No ‘protect the little lady, the delicate daughter of the big boss, from the things that go bump in the night’?”

Jason snorted. “No. I think Matt knows better than to try that now. And I definitely do.”

Lark smiled, remembering the incident he was referring to. “Perry was the team captain.”

“I understand.”

He smiled back at her, and something zinged Lark, deep under her breastbone. Her breath caught.
Oh, boy.

She faced front again. “Dad should never have told me not to worry my pretty little head.”