Darwin's Natural Selection (23 page)

“Shit!” He ran both hands through his hair, grabbing fistfuls on each side of his spinning head. The fire alarm was still screeching, three ear-piercing shrills and then a second of silence before it began again. The noise made it even harder to think, to decide what to do, to figure out how to keep Tom safe when he obviously wanted nothing more to do with Darwin.

His thoughts wouldn’t settle into a plan but darted around his brain, scattering images of Tom…hurt, frightened, dead. The beginnings of panic rose in him, fuzzing the corners of his mind.

“So much for a scientifically enhanced brain,” he muttered, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, as if he could physically push back the mental pictures of Tom that were scrambling his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them, focusing on the corner of the desk next to him. Trying to ignore all the chaos in his brain, he concentrated on the details of that tiny spot, the grooves gouged into the laminate from a long-ago scratch, the angle at which the gray outside light fell across it, darkening the far edge with shadow.

As he focused on the desk corner, his breathing evened out and his heartbeat slowed. Panic receded and rational thought returned, allowing him to start organizing his brain again.

As much as he wished he could, Darwin knew he couldn’t toss Tom over his shoulder and drag him, kicking and screaming, to whatever safe place he could find. It was better this way, for Tom to break up with him in such a painful, definite manner. If the agents believed they weren’t together, that Tom didn’t have any hold on Darwin, it would be safer for them both.

Pain sliced through his middle as Darwin realized that keeping Tom close wouldn’t keep him safe—just the opposite.

Inhaling a deep breath that was only slightly shaky, he moved to the doorway, trying to force all thoughts of Tom out of his mind. Tom was a distraction and a liability—a sweet one, but still a liability. It was safer this way, better to be on his own, endangering no one but himself.

“Right,” Darwin mumbled under his breath, rubbing his chest where the ache throbbed the worst. “Better.”

After making sure no one else was in the hallway, he slipped out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him. Without making a sound, Darwin moved through the floors of the building, easily evading the arriving firefighters and slipping out a back exit.

His chest began to hurt again when he realized it was the last time he’d ever be in Tom’s office. It might even have been the last time he’d ever see Tom.

Once again forcing thoughts of the man from his brain, Darwin concentrated on not being seen as he covered the last few blocks to where he’d parked his truck. It felt natural to fall back onto the training they’d drilled into him at the lab. They were his earliest memories, after all.

It felt almost too easy to stay unnoticed.

Reaching his truck, he unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel, continuing to scan around him for potential threats. It was clear. Darwin laughed, a dry, humorless sound. He might not have made a very good boyfriend, but he was good at this.

He was a fucking awesome ghost.

As Tom drove past the front of his condo building on his way to the underground-garage entrance, he stiffened. Two men dressed in suits were standing by the front doors, talking.

Tom shook his head, trying to shoo away the instant tension in his muscles. Darwin’s craziness was obviously catching. Tom figured if he was going to run away from every guy in a suit, he wasn’t even going to be able to go to work. “Or go outside,” he muttered as he pushed the button to open the overhead garage door.

“TV’s out too.” He continued talking to himself as he drove into the underground garage toward his assigned space. “Lots of suits on TV.”

Despite his self-mocking words, his heart was still beating fast as he got out of his truck. His fingers were shaking hard enough that it took three tries before he could hit the right button on his key fob to lock the vehicle. As he headed for the elevator, Tom tried very hard not to think about how much he wanted Darwin with him right at this moment.

“Your boyfriend—
former
boyfriend,” he told himself sternly as he waited for the elevator to arrive, “is a crazy man. You need to suck it up and deal with that.”

One of the other building residents followed him into the elevator and Tom stopped giving himself the out-loud pep talk.

“How’s it going?” the neighbor asked.

Tom knew the guy by sight but had no idea what his name was.

“ Okay .”
Except that my amazingly hot boyfriend is crazy and thinks that government agents from a secret lab are looking for him.

Tom frowned. What
did
the two guys in suits actually want from Darwin? They hadn’t asked him much before the fire alarm went off, just whether Tom knew Darwin Bloom. They’d shown him some sort of government ID cards but Tom had been too distracted by their mention of Darwin to really pay attention to the details of their identification.

Why were they looking for him—was he a fugitive, an escaped prisoner or mental patient? The possibilities ran through Tom’s mind faster than he could process them.

Somehow, they all sounded just as ludicrous as the secret-government-lab story.

The idea that Darwin might have been telling the truth flickered in Tom’s brain but he pushed it away. There had to be another rational, non-insane-sounding explanation.

The neighbor cleared his throat and Tom glanced at him.

“Isn’t this your floor?” the neighbor asked tentatively.

It was. While wild theories had been running around Tom’s brain, the elevator doors had opened and his neighbor was waiting for him to get out.

“Right.” Tom shook his head, trying to clear it, and headed for his condo. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it.
What a fucking crazy day.

With a groan, he pushed himself off the door and took a few steps toward the kitchen.

He stopped, looking around.

Something wasn’t right.

The condo looked just as it had that morning when he’d left for work. There was no reason for his heart rate to speed up but it did anyway.

Tom walked slowly through the condo, looking at all of his normal, everyday things that now just seemed…off. There was an odd smell too, very faint and probably just imagined, but Tom had the skin-crawling feeling that someone—a stranger—had been in his condo.

He needed to get out, the feeling he wasn’t safe almost overwhelming.

Tom grabbed a suitcase from his bedroom closet and started shoving random clothes into it. He ran into the bathroom, grabbed a toothbrush and his razor, plus a few other odds and ends that seemed vaguely necessary, then hurried back to the bedroom to dump his toiletries into the suitcase.

A tiny, irreverent part of his brain was horrified at his messy random packing but Tom dismissed the thought as he zipped the suitcase closed. He also ignored the bigger part of his brain that was screaming at him, telling him that this mad rush to escape his perfectly safe condo was nuts. Grabbing the handle of his suitcase, he rushed out of the condo with his computer bag still hanging over his shoulder.

*

Tom felt incredibly conspicuous, as if anyone who looked at him could see his fugitive and/or mental patient status. The woman checking him in at the hotel didn’t seem to notice anything amiss or, if she did, she hid it well. At least he’d had the presence of mind to grab a suitcase, rather than shoving all his clothes into a garbage bag or not having any luggage at all.

As the front desk attendant ran his credit card, Tom tried to be subtle about looking around the lobby. Despite his best efforts, he was pretty sure he looked quite sketchy. He couldn’t help it, though. The whole thing with Darwin and the weird feeling he’d gotten at his condo had made him intensely paranoid, and everyone, from the concierge to the elderly couple waiting in line behind him, appeared suspicious to Tom.

Taking the key cards the woman held out to him, he wheeled his suitcase toward the elevator. As he rode up to the sixth floor, he couldn’t seem to be able to turn his brain off.

An entire novel-length list of what-ifs scrolled through his mind.
What if this whole thing with Darwin is related to the trial? The timing couldn’t be worse, with everything going to shit the day before I testify. What if Dave’s family or friends are trying to fuck with me?

What if they hired Darwin?

“No.”

When a man carrying an ice bucket gave him an odd look before passing him in the hallway, Tom realized he’d said the word out loud. He knew it was true, though.

There was no way Darwin could have done something so vindictive and mean, no way he could have faked that sweetness and concern for all the weeks Tom had known him.

Tom knew, deep in his gut, he believed Darwin. At least, he believed
Darwin thought he was telling the truth. Whether that was actual truth or just a figment of mental illness, it was what Darwin believed.

Either way, a whole new ass-load of drama had just dropped into Tom’s lap.

“Like I haven’t had enough of that shit,”

Tom sighed, shoving the key card into the lock and pushing the door handle down when the light blinked green. Although he felt like an idiot doing it, he still entered the room cautiously, peeking around the doorframe before entering. The room was thankfully empty of any suited men and Tom dragged his suitcase in behind him.

Pushing the door shut, he turned the deadbolt, although the heavy click didn’t provide much reassurance.

With a sigh, he looked around the tidy, impersonal room. With the Darwin drama, his freak-out at the condo and having to testify tomorrow, Tom was past fear. He just felt numb. Numb and lonely. Despite whatever it was that plagued Darwin, insanity or government agents, Tom missed him.

Moving slowly, he began to undress, hoping he’d wake up the next morning and find everything from this crazy-ass day had been a dream. His fingers paused on his shirt buttons as a wave of faintness grayed out the room for a few seconds. He tried to remember the last time he’d eaten.

Breakfast? He vaguely recalled grabbing a protein bar that morning on the way out the door but he couldn’t remember actually eating it. His stomach ached but Tom wasn’t sure if it hurt because he was so hungry or if it were revolting at the thought of food.

Mist covered his eyes again, making up his mind. As nasty as the idea of food sounded at the moment, his body needed fuel to keep going. On his way in, Tom had noticed a small Chinese place across from the hotel. With thick-feeling fingers, he began to re-button his shirt.

*

Tom ate without tasting anything. After he’d paid and left the restaurant, he was glad he’d made the effort. His brain seemed to be functioning better than it had been and he no longer felt as if he were about to pass out at any moment.

As he waited for traffic to pass so he could cross the street, he glanced along the line of vehicles parked in front of the hotel.

People were piling onto the sidewalk, pulling suitcases and garment bags from backseats and trunks.

Then Tom’s heart stopped—before taking off again, pounding in a crazy rhythm.

Three cars down in the row, there was a dark-colored SUV with Illinois plates. The driver and front-seat passenger didn’t seem in any hurry to unload luggage or even to get out of the vehicle. It was dark, so he couldn’t see much of the two occupants, but just the lurking shape of them made the hair stand up on his arms.

There was a gap in the moving traffic and Tom crossed the street kitty-corner in order to pass behind the SUV, avoiding crossing in front of the vehicle. As he got closer, he could see more details—from their dark suits to their short government haircuts.

Maybe he was getting as crazy and paranoid as Darwin, but Tom knew deep in his gut that these guys were watching for him—waiting for him.

Trying to keep his walk at a steady, inconspicuous pace even though every cell in his body was screaming at him to run away, Tom backtracked and headed toward a side entrance of the hotel.

“Please, please, please…” he muttered as he slid the key card into the lock, hoping his room key would get him inside the door.

There was no way he could get in through the main entrance without the guys sitting in the SUV spotting him.

After a breathless second of hesitation, the light on the lock flashed green. With a tiny triumphant hop, Tom shoved the handle down and pushed the door open. He hurried to his room, tossed the key card on the desk and grabbed his unopened suitcase.

For those men to know where he was, they’d either had to have followed him or tracked his credit card.

Either way, that was some serious creeper shit.

Moving as quickly as he could without breaking into a suspicion-generating sprint, Tom headed for the stairs at the end of the hall. Picking up his suitcase off its wheels, he trotted down the stairs, spiraling down until he reached the basement level. Shoving the exit door open, Tom emerged in the underground parking garage.

His truck was only a half row or so away from the door. Tossing his suitcase into the back, he fumbled with the key fob, unlocking, relocking and finally unlocking the truck again with a series of loud-sounding beeps. With a huff of impatience at his

non-James-Bond-like

behavior,

he

clambered into the driver’s seat and pulled the door closed with a satisfying thud.

Although the truck didn’t offer that much protection from mysterious government employees who might or might not have been keeping Darwin trapped in a lab, it was still reassuring to be able to lock himself into the cab.

As he drove to the exit, Tom swiveled his head from side to side, looking for suited men in the shadowed corners of the garage.

When he reached the exit, he slowed, creeping toward the opening. The lift-arm rose, allowing him to pass, but he still just inched forward until he could see both directions on the sidewalk and street.

The SUV was still there.