Acceptable Risks (6 page)

He stopped when he reached the top floor, walking in a circle and shaking out his burning legs while his breathing slowed. He wished Lark’s call hadn’t come while the Secretary of Defense was in his office. Now he had to wait until they arrived at the safe house and called him again. He couldn’t believe how close Kemmerling had gotten. He’d hoped the shower photo was a ploy, meant to scare him, and hadn’t expected them to actually make a move on Lark. But not only had Kemmerling made a move, he’d gained a valuable advantage—he knew Jason was alive.

Matthew wanted them both here, now, where no one would threaten their safety again.

Cursing, he punched in the access code on the pad next to the door and impatiently submitted to the biometric checks before it let him through. He almost forgot to wipe his print off the scanner and cursed again. If only he could have been the one to go get Lark, he’d have ripped Kemmerling to pieces.

He smoothed his scowl. Despite confirming his survival, it had been the right thing, sending Jason. Ripping Isaac, while satisfying, was definitely not what Hummingbird needed right now.

Matthew reached his office and eased into his chair, spinning to stare out the window at the empty parking lot, busy street, and sparkling Potomac in the distance. The sun had begun to sink on the other side of the building, and it lent a rosiness to the picture that would normally be soothing. He inhaled and let his breath out slowly. This was his first chance in weeks to sit calmly with nothing and no one demanding his attention. Inevitably, that thought led him to the pile of paperwork on his desk and a mental to-do list that had grown steadily while he took care of big-picture items.

He was just about to give in and do some work when the phone rang. Not his cell, so it probably wasn’t Jason or Lark. He wasn’t sure what traffic would be like up in Boston, and how long it would take them to get to the safe house. But there wasn’t any reason for anyone to be calling him on the work line, either, with no agents on active duty tonight. He spun his chair and lifted the receiver.

“Madrassa.”

“Matt? Matthew? You’re there. Oh, I’m so glad.” The woman, whose voice he didn’t recognize, choked back what sounded like a sob.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s Ella. Ella Darron? I know, it’s been years, but I just… I’m sorry, I’m going about this all wrong.”

“Are you in danger, Ella?” He couldn’t imagine why else his sister-in-law would call him. They’d lost touch years ago, before Lark even graduated from high school. Ella and Kelly had never been close. While Kelly was a mom first, hobbyist second, and quite content with not working a real job, Ella had been an odd combination of driven businessperson and wacky artist. She was…forty-two now?

“No, no, I’m not in danger. Not immediate danger. I mean, not in danger at all. That’s not really what it is.”

Matthew stifled a sigh of irritation. “Then take a breath, calm down, and tell me what’s wrong.”

She inhaled noisily and took a few seconds to exhale. “I can’t tell you over the phone.”

“My lines are secure,” he said automatically.

“Mine’s not. Can I see you? Meet with you?”

“I’m at the office now. Are you in DC?”

“Not yet. I’ll be there in the morning, but I don’t want to go to Hummingbird.”

Scowling, Matthew said, “You can meet me at the house if you can make it early enough.”

“Have an early tee time, Matthew?” The acerbic tone was much more the Ella he remembered, and he relaxed.

“No. But I will have to work.”

“On Saturday.”

“On most days.”

She sighed. “Fine. The house in the morning. I’ll try to be there by eight. Is that acceptable?”

“Of course. I hope I can help you, Ella.”

“Me, too.” She sounded scared and upset again. Something was off about her quick changes, but without being in the room with her, he couldn’t tell what. He didn’t have the time or mental capacity to take on someone else’s problems, but she
was
Kelly’s sister and Lark’s aunt, and family was supposed to be there for family. More importantly, instinct told him to meet with her. And he always trusted his instincts.

Chapter Six

Lark felt the weight of Jason’s eyes on her and knew she wasn’t fooling him by pretending to be asleep. That was okay. He wasn’t going to tell her anything until they got to the safe house, and she didn’t want to pepper him with questions. It would annoy both of them, and if her eyes were open, she wouldn’t be able to help herself.

Not that she needed to open her eyes to look at him. She had a perfect mental image of his body up against hers, his face looking down on her like some big damn hero. He was as well defined as any Navy SEAL, the snug knit shirt and jeans he wore showing off his muscles to perfection. He’d moved fluidly, running with ease and comfort. Whole.

A frisson of excitement made her shiver. Based solely on the miracle, of course. Not on Jason’s body and how he used it. Only on the fact that he was alive.

It had fucking worked
. Excitement lifted her again. She’d tried not to pin too many hopes on her compound. Tried to make it enough that discovering the plant’s properties could lead to bigger breakthroughs in medicine. It had qualified her for the fellowship, which brought new possibilities. But here in this car was proof she’d been right. And that she’d sold it to the right people, people who could develop it. Who
had
developed it.

A little bubble of sadness welled and popped, tempering her giddiness. It came from a pool that was always there, something she knew she’d never get rid of. Her mother hadn’t needed such revolutionary technology when she fell from a horse. Whatever they’d used to put Jason back together wouldn’t have prevented her mother’s infections, or the complications, or the stream of surgeries that had left her vulnerable. She’d been one of those pure-of-heart, fragile-of-body women to begin with, and never recovered fully from the fall. She’d died of the flu, of all things, when Lark was sixteen.

So Lark couldn’t play “what if.” She couldn’t imagine that her findings or the amazing things they led to could have ever saved her mother. But they could help, maybe save, other people. Maybe helped save Jason. And that validated
everything
. Her choice to say no thanks to her father’s business, though he’d built it—and kept the silly name—as a testament to her mother. Her seemingly random venture into botany after a couple of science-related internships and summer jobs. Her focus on work and lack of social life, most of the time.

She couldn’t wait to get her hands on Jason’s medical records. His recovery was amazing. He didn’t seem to have any stiffness or creaky joints or misshapen bone. She wondered if anything hurt, and if it had all healed right. If the regeneration therapy had been enough, and if not, what else they’d used on him.

We can rebuild him.
God, it was
real
.

Okay, he wasn’t bionic. She didn’t think. No computer chips controlling his super movements or nanites boosting his senses. But he’d been
dead
, or almost. Questions flooded her brain. Her eyes popped open and she quickly shut them again.
In time,
she whispered to herself.
He’ll tell you in time
.

She’d make sure of it.

* * *

When they arrived at the safe house, Lark stayed right behind Jason as he searched the house and perimeter before declaring it all clear.

“I’m going to check in,” he told her, securing the pistol he’d used to sweep the house. “Do what you need to do. You can talk to your father when I’m done, and then you and I will talk.”

“And eat, I hope. I skipped lunch.” It was well past dinnertime, and she was starving. She had a high metabolism and crashed when her blood sugar was low, but couldn’t seem to remember that when she was working.

“Definitely. My stomach is eating a hole in itself.” He started dialing his phone.

“Is that a side effect?” she asked without thinking, then held up a hand. “I know, it can wait.”

Jason grinned and turned away, and that spark flared again inside Lark. She was going to have to make him stop smiling at her. A guy like him, who worked for her father and no doubt had a shitload of problems on his shoulders right now, would have zero interest in her. Even if he wasn’t also her father’s best friend, which placed her off limits. And even if his job didn’t immediately eliminate him from her list of “safe” guys to date.

She headed for the bathroom, trying not to curse. She couldn’t remember a man ever having an effect on her this strong. It figured the first guy who generated a spark was more off limits than the work that had created him.

That thought sobered her. To her knowledge, there was no FDA approval to use the RT-24 on humans. She didn’t care, but the company didn’t need any more scrutiny, her father any more stress.

God, every thought she had generated a burst of questions. She quickly used the facilities, stifling a shriek when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Dirt on her face and clothes, hair all tangled and ratty looking. The minimal makeup she’d put on this morning had disappeared. Why hadn’t she brought her bag in with her? She shoved at her hair for a moment, then blew out a sigh. What was the point in making an effort? She’d looked like this for the last several hours already. A few more weren’t going to make a difference.

Jason was still on the phone when she entered the kitchen. She opened the freezer and pulled out a large supreme pizza, set the oven to heat and readied the pizza to slide into it. She had her back to the doorway, but knew when Jason entered anyway. The pressure in the room changed, and now something fluttered in her lower belly.

“Here you go,” he said, and the flutter became a vibration. Lark was glad she wasn’t a guy, her reaction fully visible. She turned and accepted the phone he held out to her. Their eyes met, held, and heat crept up her face. The little lines around Jason’s eyes deepened the tiniest bit, and she knew she didn’t need different anatomy to display her reaction. Dammit.

“When the oven beeps, put the pizza in and set the timer for fifteen minutes,” she told him, just for something to say.

“I know how to make pizza.” His lips curled.

She shook her head and lifted the phone to her ear, moving into the living room as she spoke. “Dad?”

“You two seem to be getting along fine.” He sounded indulgently amused, and she rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. If he really knew what was going on, he’d react differently.

“Yeah, whatever,” she said. “Dad…I don’t even know where to start. He’s alive.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He sounded regretful, and she frowned until he explained, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Ah. He thought she would be upset at being kept in the dark. “It’s okay. I can figure that out. But there’s so much else I want to know!”

“Jason will fill you in, but I have to tell you a few things he won’t, and I have a conference call in a few minutes, so I don’t have much time.”

Lark glanced at her watch, but the time didn’t matter. The call was probably with someone in Asia. “Medical?” she guessed. What else would a macho guy keep to himself?

“He’s still at high risk of infection,” her father confirmed. “His immunization schedule isn’t complete, and he had a splenectomy as well as all the bone breaks.”

The hair on her skin stood on end, accompanied by a wave of dread. Just like her mother. “How bad was he, Dad?”

“He was nearly dead, Lark. Only a very powerful will kept him alive, I think.”

He didn’t say whose will.

She swallowed. “What do I need to do?”

“Watch him for symptoms. Fever, fatigue, anything that seems flu-ish, make him come back here.”

She closed her eyes and tried not to think of her mother, to remember her last horrible days. Responsibility settled on her shoulders, a strangely familiar mantle. “I thought we are going there,” she managed, forcing her mind on the here and now. Hummingbird would be the safest place for her, wouldn’t it?

“You will, but probably not to stay. I don’t know yet. I’m working on some things.”

“Okay.” She straightened, focused again. “What else?”

“He can’t take a blow to the chest. His sternum is weak, and his heart suffered some trauma from the initial impact. Another hit, not even very strong, could send him into V-tach.”

“I should carry an AED. Got it.”

“I’m not joking around here, Lark.”

“Neither am I, Dad.” Not that she knew where to get an AED, or how practical it would be to carry one. But how likely was it that he’d get hit in the chest again? “Does he need meds or anything?”

“No, he’s fine physically. More than fine. He was running sixteen miles an hour this morning.”

She whistled. “You gave him super powers?”

“No, don’t be silly. But the muscle fibers and the bone glue have made him stronger, more powerful, gave him more endurance. And we have no idea what else the regeneration therapy might have done.”

“Besides grow nerve tissue?”

“Yeah.” A phone rang in the background. Her father paused, probably checking who it was, then said, “I’ve got to go. But sweetie, we’re not sure about his mental status. He hasn’t really dealt with the reality of not dying, and everything that goes with it.”

Lark kept her voice low. “What do you mean? Could he be unstable? Explode in anger or something?” She couldn’t imagine it, but then, she hadn’t seen him in years.

“I don’t know. I trust him, Lark. He’s there to take care of you. But he needs you to take care of him, too.”

She couldn’t help a smile. “You know I will, Dad.”

“Thank you, sweetie. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“That’s just so damned sweet,” Jason said from the doorway. “Water or soda? They haven’t stocked anything perishable.”

“Water’s fine.” She went back into the kitchen and inhaled the spicy pizza scent. “God, I’m hungry.”

“Here.” He held out a bag of cashews, and she took a handful. “You wanna talk now or wait until we eat?”

“I’m bursting with desire…” She tossed a few nuts into her mouth and gave a little moan at the explosion of flavor. Jason’s eyes darkened. “…to bombard you with questions,” she finished. “But I can wait. Eating won’t take long.”

It didn’t. They devoured all but two pieces of the pie, which Jason wrapped in plastic and stuck in the fridge. In silent agreement, they went onto the back deck with bottles of water and sat in the Adirondack chairs looking out over a wide, flat yard shadowed by the remnants of the mid-June sun. Lark realized she was tired. She’d had a big day, what with people trying to abduct her and coming back from the dead and all.

She covered a yawn and said, “Where do we start?”

“Where do you want to start?”

The coming-back-from-the-dead stuff was bigger, and less urgent. It should wait. “With Kemmerling.”

“You know him, then.”

“I know who he is.” Anger put an edge in her voice. “He was an excellent agent who got too big for his britches and has been gunning for you guys ever since. I figure he wants to use the aftermath of the Kolanko job to tear down Hummingbird. Coming after me seems more personal, though. Unless…” She raised an eyebrow. “The RT-24?”

“Smart girl.”

“Call me a girl again, you’ll feel it.” She brandished her bottle at him. “I’m not that much younger than you, you know.”

He held up a hand. “Sorry. Figure of speech. But yeah, that’s the start of it. We think he still has connections inside, because he somehow got wind of my miraculous recovery and figured out how it happened. Any ideas?”

Lark considered, picking at the label on her bottle. “I don’t know much about the medical team. What do you have so far?”