Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) (27 page)

It was a perverse kind of sense, but one that was entirely logical to a special operator. It might seem extreme to someone outside this life, a kind of cloak-and-dagger nonsense that bordered on the ridiculous, but they took nothing for granted when survival was the goal. Getting Grace Campbell safely to HOT was the priority. Misdirecting any pursuers, no matter how remote the possibility anyone could manage to follow such a twisted route, was paramount.

Mendez’s mouth turned down in a frown. “The problem is that if I just got that paper from Intel, someone else might have gotten it too. Ice’s plan, however little of it we understand, can also be intuited by the enemy if they’re paying close enough attention.”

“And we still don’t know who they are.”

They had the four men in custody that they’d picked up near the safe house, but so far no one was talking. They were foreign, most likely Russian, but they refused to identify themselves or their organization.
 

It was disturbing to think that the Russians had access to high-level intelligence within the US government—but someone must, or they wouldn’t have been able to find the safe house so easily.

“Not yet,” Mendez said. “But give it time. Someone will crack.”

* * *

It was dark when they stopped, and Garrett pitched the tent again. It wasn’t raining, though the air was crisp and cool, and he built a fire where they cooked hot dogs and made s’mores. Grace laughed at that last. He’d stopped at a convenience store earlier that day to resupply, and she’d had no idea he’d bought marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers until he’d pulled them out after dinner.

“Figured you needed to see the fun side of camping again,” he said as he sandwiched a toasted marshmallow and some chocolate between two graham crackers and then handed it over.

Grace knew she was grinning like an idiot as she took the treat. But it filled her with a strange kind of quiet joy that he paid enough attention to what she said to know she’d mentioned s’mores—and that he wanted to make this trip fun for her. She’d told him earlier today that it was fun with him, and she hadn’t been kidding.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was at peace with herself and her life. Oh, she was still terrified at the idea someone was chasing her, wanting the knowledge she possessed, but she was… happy in an odd way.

Life was stripped bare out here. There were no social events to navigate, no one to please but herself and Garrett—who wasn’t hard to please when you got right down to it—no stressful work environments to endure. Out here, she wasn’t expected to be poised and dignified, the senator’s daughter who always had to be on guard.
 

She was just Grace Campbell, a woman who hadn’t showered in two days, who wasn’t wearing makeup, and who didn’t quite care so long as the man sitting beside her wasn’t repelled.
 

If she could just forget that she was running for her life and that Garrett was only with her because he’d been paid to protect her, everything might be perfect.

But it wasn’t perfect, because nothing about this journey was real. Except for the hot sex, she amended. That was definitely real. She didn’t think it was possible to fake that kind of explosive chemistry, though what did she know?
 

Maybe he had amazing sex with every woman he slept with. Maybe she was just that inexperienced and naïve and this was only amazing to her.

“What are you thinking about so hard, cupcake?”

Her head snapped up to find Garrett watching her. His face was so heartbreakingly handsome that her chest tightened. Soon she wouldn’t see that face anymore. Wouldn’t hear him calling her that little endearment she’d hated at first but loved now. Wouldn’t have the right to touch his cheek, to lay claim to his jaw with her lips, or to trail kisses from that jaw down over his broad chest before taking him in her mouth and tasting him while he moaned.

“Just wondering what happens tomorrow.” It was a lie, but she wasn’t about to tell him what she’d really been thinking. For her, the feelings were too confused, too raw.

“I’ll get you to safety tomorrow.”

Her heart thumped. “And what then?”

His look was steady. “I don’t know. I can’t say what the boss will want until he tells me.”

That wasn’t quite what she meant, but she figured he knew that. He was keeping the conversation on safe ground—or what he considered safe ground. His job.
 

And really, what right did she have to push him? He’d told her this was nothing more than sex from the beginning.

She finished the s’more and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her upper arms vigorously. She wasn’t cold so much as irritated—with herself, with him, with his ex-wife.

And then there was her job. She’d made the agonizing decision, after brooding for miles today, that she had to backtrack from her claims. She couldn’t give a paper on her findings at the WHO conference, no matter how important they were to the health-care community. There were other ways of keeping the world safe, and that was what she had to do.
 

Her bosses would be angry, no doubt, since Magnolia Labs would have raked in additional funding based on her research. A vaccine was needed, and the funds would have poured in for development—but it was too dangerous for her. And, by extension, for her family. If whoever was after her couldn’t get to her, would they go after her family? Use them as leverage?

She didn’t know, but the questions kept circling through her head until she knew she had to find another way. The research was important, but protecting the people she loved was more so.

“You still planning to disavow your research?” Garrett asked, and she lifted her head to find him watching her.

“Yes.”
 

“No second thoughts?”

She snorted. “Lots of them. But it has to be done. My mother and father, my sisters and their families—if I don’t do this, they could be in danger too.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right decision.”

“I think so too. But it also hurts.” Because she’d spent so much time on this project, and because she still believed in the need for being prepared. There was also, she had to admit, a little bit of pride involved. Negating her research felt like negating herself.

“I know it hurts, Grace. What you’re planning to do could set your career back. I think it’s brave of you to do it anyway.”

A current of warmth slid through her. “I’m not brave. I’m practical. And scared, I suppose. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want people breaking into my house or accosting me in parking lots. I also don’t want to think about my nieces or nephews being harmed because of me.”

“That’s what bravery is—doing something that you know will hurt you but you do it anyway because it’s the right thing to do. Don’t sell yourself short.”

She felt tears welling, but she sniffed them back. He was the only person who ever called her brave. Her sisters thought she was bookish and nerdy. Her parents worried she spent too much time in the lab and not enough time socializing and finding a husband. Jeffrey thought she was boring—and clearly not worth spending a lifetime with.

Absolutely no one thought she was brave—except Garrett. Her chest ached with all the warm, muddled things she felt for him. She’d let him mean something to her in the past few days, and it was going to hurt when he was gone. With him in her corner, she felt like she could do anything.

But he wasn’t going to be in her corner forever. She had to do this alone. And that thought made her feel unbearably empty.

She took a deep breath. “I have to get back to the lab. The samples are still there; I need to destroy them.” She could always make the virus again later, but she had to get rid of the evidence now. Because so long as the samples existed, there was always the possibility someone could reverse engineer the process. Or, worse, what if someone obtained the samples and the virus got loose in the world before there was a vaccine?

She didn’t think anyone in the lab was that stupid—that suicidal—but if the past few days had taught her anything, it was that she had no idea what motivated people sometimes.

Garrett’s brows drew down. “It’s not safe for you to go there. Tell me what to do, and I’ll make sure it gets done as soon as we get back.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No. I have to do it. Me, not you. I created this thing, and I’ll finish it.”

His expression was thunderous. “This is what I do, Grace. What my guys do. We’ll get into the lab and remove all traces of the virus—and we’ll make sure no one else gets it or the information on how to create it.”

Grace got to her feet and stared down at him. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “It’s too dangerous. It has to be me. You don’t know how to work with this virus—none of you do. Just get me in there, and I’ll do the rest. There’s no other choice.”

He got up and towered over her, his body big and menacing as he approached. But she wasn’t afraid of him. If anything, she melted just a little as he drew closer. She wanted to fold herself against him and let him take care of everything for her—but that’s not the way she did things. She was an adult, not a child, and as much as she might like to hide away and read books, there were some things she had to do for herself.

“It’s dangerous.”

She swallowed. “I know that. You’re the best at what you do, Garrett. But so am I. If I wanted to be your bodyguard, you’d laugh at me. So trust me when I tell you that destroying the virus is the job of a trained professional, okay?”

He stared down at her for a long time, his jaw hard where the firelight caressed it. “You’re too logical for your own good.”

Not logical enough, she thought as he knuckled the back of her cheek and her insides turned to liquid. She shouldn’t want him after what he’d said to her earlier. After he’d insisted that he was screwed up for other women because of his ex, that he didn’t want a relationship with her, but sex was okay for as long as they were together.

Ceasing to respond to Garrett Spencer was as vital to her well-being as destroying the virus and negating her research. He wasn’t out to kill her—but the danger to her heart was stronger the longer they were together.

“If I were as logical as I should be, I’d tell you to stop touching me,” she whispered past the tightness in her throat.

His hand stilled. “Is that what you want?”

Yes
, her mind whispered.
No
, her heart screamed.

“It’s what I
should
want.”

“But you don’t.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather feel you inside me.”

He pulled her into his embrace. “That’s precisely where I want to be, cupcake,” he said before he took her mouth in a hot, hard kiss.

* * *

John Mendez strolled into a bar facing Annapolis Harbor and ordered a beer. Then he took a seat at a table where he could see the door and waited. The waitress brought him a beer and some pretzels. She was a good twenty years younger than he was, but that didn’t stop her from smiling and giving him what he recognized as a come-hither look. It still shocked him that even at forty-eight years of age, younger women flirted with him, but he handled it like he always did—with a wink and a grin.

“Just let me know if you need anything else,” she said. “Anything at all.”

“Thanks,” he said, and she flounced away with another look at him over her shoulder. He shook his head.

He wasn’t into girls young enough to be his daughter. Couldn’t imagine what the hell he’d have in common with any of them if he did pick one up. Sure, she was pretty, and the sex would probably be spectacular if he could get past the idea she’d been in diapers when he’d been going through Hell Week as a new recruit to Special Forces.

But it just wasn’t an appealing thought. He hadn’t dated in forever, but when he did, he liked women at least thirty-five and up. That didn’t make him feel like a dirty old man, and at least he felt like the generation gap wasn’t so massive he had nothing in common with them at that age.

He took a sip of his beer and watched the door. Eventually a man walked in. He made eye contact with Mendez and then strolled over and sat down across from him. The waitress hurried over and took his order.

“Sam Adams on draft,” the man said.

“Brewer patriot,” Mendez said when the waitress went to get the beer. “Interesting.”

Ian Black’s eyes flashed. “That’s right. A patriot. Like you. Like me.”

Mendez didn’t snort. He just waited. Black finally shrugged.

“I’d heard you were a hard-ass. Smart… and dangerous too.”

Mendez leaned back and sipped his beer. “You trying to get into my pants, stud, or just making small talk?”

Black laughed. “Cuts straight to the chase as well.”

“I’d be interested in who told you these things about me.”

Black didn’t say anything as the waitress returned and set the beer down in front of him. After an aborted attempt at flirting with them both, the woman left.

Black lifted his beer and took a sip. “And I’d be interested in who told you about me. But I don’t suppose either one of us are talking.”

“Probably not.”