Primal: London Mob Book Two (12 page)

Farrell dropping his head to the hollow of her throat as he drove faster and harder in the moment before he looked into her eyes.

“Look at me when I come inside you,” he ordered.

She did, and it lit a match to the brush of her body, wildfire spreading outward in one big sweep as she fell into the heat, let it overtake her body. She clenched around his cock as he poured himself into her with a long, low groan, saying her name over and over again, fitting his hips to hers as he rocked into her, setting loose a series of waves that crashed over her with the force of a tropical storm.

When it was over she was still against the wall, Farrell between her legs. She didn’t know how long she stayed that way before she found the strength to turn her head toward the glass. The other couple was gone, the other side of the room dark.

As if they’d never been there at all.

S
he was laying
on her stomach when he woke the next morning, her hair fanned out across the pillow, the sheet revealing a glimpse of her glorious ass. He propped himself up on one arm, allowing himself the luxury of sweeping her body with his eyes. He took his time as he drank her in: the delicate back, the narrow waist, the fleshy ass that had been a feature in his dreams of her when they’d been apart.

His cock got hard as his thoughts turned to the previous night. She’d been every bit as turned on by the private sex show as he imagined. Her body had come alive under his touch, her wet heat welcoming his occupation as he made her his all over again.

No. As he reminded her that she was his.

She’d always been his, whatever else had happened between them. He’d left no stone unturned last night in his quest to explore her body, and the sun had already been peeking through the curtains when he finally let her sleep. Now he wanted nothing more than to stay in the big bed all day, fucking her on the fine sheets, making her come again and again.

But it wasn’t to be. They needed to get to Erik Karlsen’s daughter. Needed to figure out where Karlsen was hiding, who was behind the Marburg research. It was the only hope he had of eliminating the threat against Jenna. The only way to keep her and Lily safe.

He bent over her, kissing her back, his cock getting hard as she moaned and covered the pillow with his head.

“Time to get up, sleepyhead,” he said.

“Don’t want to,” she muttered under the pillow.

“Me, either. But there’s no help for it.”

She lifted her ass, nestling him more fully between her cheeks. His cock responded by finishing the job of getting hard for her.

“Feels like you’re already up,” she said.

He laughed, then flipped her onto her back and positioned himself between her thighs. He loved her face in the morning. It was one of the only time she appeared unguarded, her eyes still hazy from sleep, hair a tangled mess, her body soft and compliant.

He ground against her against his better judgement, felt her slickness against his shaft. It stole any residual fight in him, and he spent the next hour licking her pussy until she came hard against his face, plundering the pussy that fit him like a glove, making her come again and again.

They left the room a full two hours later than he’d planned, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret a second of it. He didn’t know if their time together meant that Jenna had reconsidered. That she would agree to be part of his life when they finally figured out who was behind the bioweapons research at the Institute. He knew better than anyone that their future together wasn’t guaranteed. He would spend every moment possible memorizing her face, the feel of her body opening around him, in case it was all he had to call on later.

In case she decided to leave him once again.

They’d eaten breakfast in the room while they got ready for the day, then left the hotel and made their way toward an area called 9-Streets. It was a busy, vibrant neighborhood near restaurants and shops, and they passed the Rijksmuseum and entered onto Prinsengracht, a quaint canal street housing rows of new apartment buildings with stone facades and big windows.

Farrell held Jenna’s hands, walking swiftly past the apartment listed as Lieve Karlsen’s as if they had a destination in mind. He spent the time subtly checking out the surrounding area: neighbors who might think a strange couple in the neighborhood was reason to be alarmed, places he and Jenna might observe the flat without being obvious.

They circled back to Lieve Karlsen’s block and took a seat on the grass near the canal. He would have preferred one of the many benches facing the water, but then that would have put the flat behind them, and Farrell needed to keep an eye out for Karlsen’s daughter. Most of her Facebook profile had been private, but he’d been able to see her profile picture. It had only revealed the woman’s face — a young blonde with an angular face and wide blue eyes. It would have to do, and he leaned back on the grass, trying to affect the posture of someone enjoying the sunny summer day instead of someone effectively stalking a woman he’d never met.

“What if she doesn’t come?” Jenna asked.

He glanced up at her. She looked fresh faced and innocent, her long hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of her neck. “She’ll come. She lives here.” He smiled. “Try to relax. We’re supposed to look casual, remember?”

She drew in a breath and rolled her shoulders, then pulled at some of the grass around her legs. “What if she doesn’t tell us where to find her father?”

He scanned the street. “I have a backup plan.”

She looked up with interest. “What kind of plan?”

“It’s hard to stay missing in this day and age,” he said. “Even if you’re careful, use cash, avoid using your real name… There are cameras everywhere.”

She seemed to think about it. “Security cameras?”

“Among others.”

“How would you gain access to something like that?” she asked.

He met her eyes. “You don’t want to know, Jenna.”

“Because it’s illegal?”

He looked away, turning his gaze back to Prinsengracht. For a moment she didn’t speak.

“I do know your business is largely illegal,” she finally said.

He kept his eyes on the street. “Yes, but you don’t like it.”

“No,” she said. “But it is what it is.”

He looked over at her, wondering if the resignation in her voice was a message of sorts. Did she intend to overlook his line of work? To accept it?

It was a conversation for another time. “I already have people working on it,” he said instead. “It’s just taking longer than I’d like, probably because Karlsen’s trying so hard to stay hidden. But they’ll find something eventually. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Then why are we here?” she asked.

“Thought it would be faster,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, and they settled into the bustle of the street. Couples walked along the canal, residents of the nearby buildings passed with shopping bags, and young parents walked by towing young children. It wasn’t very different from any other city in the world, and he was struck by the truth of it; people were largely the same the world over. They went about their business — eating and shopping and working and making love. Trying to find meaning, to create it, in their little corner. They wanted to keep their families safe, to find love, to feel joy.

The Marburg virus was a threat to all of it. To all of the people like these ones across the globe. There was a reason the research had been conducted in secret. That powerful people were willing to go to any length to keep it hidden.

But most frightening of all was the reason behind it. Because there was only one reason for this kind of research.

Death.

If the people behind it had discovered a way to distribute it without killing the virus, it would be a weapon of the most dangerous kind.

Quick. Silent. Invisible.

He thought of Lily, running across the fields with Anthony and Lessa in Tuscany, laughing and chasing the goats. He thought of all the children like them — like the ones walking past them now holding ice cream, clutching sand pails, chattering to their parents about dogs and swings.

He’d only seen the Marburg research on paper. It made it far too easy to see it as abstract, to downplay its danger. Looking at Jenna next to him, so lovely and innocent, and thinking of their beautiful daughter reminded him that he couldn’t allow that to happen.

T
hey’d been sitting
near the canal for almost two hours when Farrell sat up straighter, his eyes focused on a woman moving swiftly down the Prinsengracht with her head bent.

“I think that’s her,” he said, rising to his feet.

She stood next to him. “How sure are you?”

“As sure as I can be from a Facebook photo,” he said grimly. “Let’s go.”

She put a hand on his arm. “Let me.”

He shook his head. “You’re not going alone.”

“She’s alone, too,” Jenna pointed out. “Don’t you think she’ll be more threatened by a man she doesn’t know than by me?”

He hesitated, his eyes drifting back to the woman, quickly reaching the end of the block. “I suppose so. But you just get her to talk to us, then I join you. All right?”

She nodded. “I’ll signal you if it’s okay.”

She was almost paralyzed with anxiety as she crossed the street, then picked up her pace to catch up to the woman before she reached her apartment. She had no idea what she would say. No idea how she would get the woman to talk to them. But she had to.

She just had to.

Lily’s safety depended on it. But not just Lily. The safety of millions of children like her — millions of people the world over. There was enough destruction on the planet. They couldn’t afford another instrument of death.

The woman was turning toward a set of stairs leading to one of the buildings when Jenna spoke.

“Lieve? Lieve Karlsen?”

She turned around, her face unguarded in the moment before she realized Jenna was the one who had spoken her name. Jenna saw the indecision on her face as she assessed the situation: a stranger who knew her name, but a woman, and therefore maybe not a threat.

“Yes?” She was still on the steps, her keys in hand, body poised to race toward the door of the building.

Jenna stepped closer, stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “I’m Jenna Carver. My father worked at the Stafford Institute before — ”

It was all the woman needed to hear.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” She continued up the stairs, this time almost at a sprint.

“Wait, please!” Jenna called after her. “I have… I have a daughter.”

The woman stopped but didn’t turn around.

“If you don’t talk to me I’m afraid she’ll suffer the consequences. Not just her but all the children like her.”

The woman slowly turned around. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Just a few minutes of your time,” Jenna said. “That’s all.”

“I can’t help you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Jenna said. “But all I ask is that you hear us out.”

“Us?” The woman’s eyes turned watchful as she scanned the sidewalk.

“My friend and me.” Jenna turned toward the strip of grass along the canal so Lieve could follow her gaze to Farrell. She searched for the words that would convince Lieve to speak to them without giving too much away on the streets of Amsterdam. Finally she turned back to face the other woman. “We’re trying to stop it.”

The woman’s gaze was riveted to Farrell for a few minutes before she finally sighed. “I can’t promise anything. But I’ll hear you out.”

“Thank you,” Jenna said. “Thank you so much.”

She waved Farrell over, and he sprinted across the street. When he reached them he held out his hand.

“Farrell Black.”

The woman looked around, her gaze skittish. “Not here.”

She unlocked the door and waved them in, and they followed her past a bank of elevators to a staircase that wound upward. They walked up two flights of stairs to the third floor and a clean, wide hall, then continued to a door halfway down it.

She didn’t speak as she unlocked the door, and Jenna shifted nervously on her feet, hoping Farrell had a plan for the ensuing conversation. She didn’t have much besides the obvious plea of help, and she was beginning to wonder if it would be enough.

They followed Lieve Karlsen into an open living room with big windows overlooking the canal. Lieve set down her bag on the counter, a small divide between the living room and kitchen. She turned to them, her arms folded across her chest.

“How did you find me?”

“It’s one of the things I do,” Farrell said.

“Are you an investigator of some kind?” Lieve asked. “Police?”

Farrell chuckled a little. “No.”

“Then what?”

“It’s complicated,” Farrell said. “Let’s just say I’m in a line of work that gives me access to the black market. A few months ago, we noticed that hazardous materials were being bought and sold, brought into England. Then Jenna’s father was killed.”

She glanced at Jenna. “Your father was a researcher at the Institute?”

“A janitor,” Jenna said.

Lieve shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I didn't either,” Jenna said. “Not at first. Then I found the key to a safe deposit box in my father’s things. It led me to papers on the Marburg research conducted by your father. Shortly thereafter, we were shot at, and just two days ago my daughter and I were nearly killed in an alley by a man looking for the papers.”

The woman closed her eyes, an internal war playing out across her features before she opened them again. “I’ll make coffee. You should sit.”

“
W
hat do
you know about the research?” Lieve asked after serving the coffee.

“Only what was in the papers,” Jenna said. “My father didn’t leave anything — just copies of the study itself. That’s how we found your father’s name.”

She nodded. “I don’t know much myself. My father was very successful once.”

“Once?” Farrell prompted.

“He has a bit of a problem with the drink,” Lieve said after a brief hesitation. “ But his work was always exemplary.”

There was a hint of defensiveness in her voice, and Jenna rushed to put her at ease. “I understand completely. My mother has the same problem.”

Lieve nodded, meeting Jenna’s gaze, seeming to really see her for the first time. “Then you know how it can be. How… normal they can sometimes seem. And then how awful.”

“I do,” Jenna said softly.

“When he wasn’t drunk, my father’s work led to several important breakthroughs in his field of study.”

“Virology?” Farrell asked.

“That’s right,” Lieve said. “He was one of the lead researchers on the ZMapp breakthrough.”

“I think I remember hearing about that,” Jenna said. It had been a landmark breakthrough just after the Ebola outbreak of 2014.

Lieve sighed. “He managed to juggle it all for awhile, but a few years ago he had a particularly bad run, and he was fired from a contractual job with the CDC in the States. Word got out, and it became almost impossible for him to find work.”

“Until he was approached by the Stafford Institute,” Farrell said.

“That’s right,” Lieve said. “At first, he didn’t know the details of the project. They made him sign a non-disclosure before giving him the details.”

“And then?” Jenna asked.

“Then they eased him into the idea, telling him it was about locking down the genes responsible for fighting off diseases like Ebola and Marburg.”

“I take it that didn’t last long?” Farrell said.

“About three months,” she said. “They started asking him more detailed questions about Marburg: what prevented it from being spread to the masses, how someone — an enemy, for example — might get around such… weaknesses in the disease.”

“Weaknesses?” The words sent a stone of horror to the bottom of Jenna’s stomach. That anyone would call the slow spread of a deadly disease a weakness said quite a lot about their motive.

“That’s the word they used,” Lieve said, staring into her white porcelain coffee cup. “It was the thing that finally made my father begin to question the research they were doing. Looking at it from a different point of view — spread rather than prevention — he suddenly saw how the research could be turned on its head to aid spread instead of prevention.”

“What did he do?” Jenna asked.

She looked offended. “He tried to get out of it, of course.”

“I take it that didn’t go over well,” Farrell suggested.

Lieve hesitated. “You might say that. They showed him pictures of me — going to work, out with friends, at the market. They made it clear that his participation in the study was no longer voluntary, and that the consequences of speaking out would affect not only him, but me as well.” She set down her cup. “I don’t have any siblings, and my mother died when I was young. It’s always been my father and me. The two of us.”

Jenna cut a glance to Farrell, wondering if he found shades of his own upbringing in Lieve’s.

“So he stayed,” Farrell said.

She nodded slowly. “He tried to slow things down. Kept a lid on discoveries he’d made that would allow for the virus to be aerosolized in a version that would still be hot.”

Jenna was no scientist, but she knew what “hot” meant in this context: that the virus was infectious.

That it was deadly.

“How did he get away?” Jenna asked.

Lieve met her eyes. “How do you know he did?”

“We know,” Farrell said. “And we’re not looking to out him. We just need to know who’s behind it. How serious they are. How to stop it.”

“I don't think these people can be stopped,” she said, rising from the couch with her cup in hand. "And my father traded silence for his safety. For mine.”

“No one would know,” Farrell said. “Anything he told us would be kept confidential.”

She went to the kitchen, rinsed the cup, stood with her back toward them. Jenna was preparing to ask her, to beg if necessary, to put them in touch with her father when Farrell placed a hand on her arm to stop her. A couple minutes later, Lieve spoke.

“These people frightened him,” she said softly. “Frightened him enough to send him into hiding, to keep him from me.”

“I understand,” Farrell said. “But if we can find out who’s behind it, we might be able to stop them. Then he’d be free.”

She turned to face them, a sad smile on her face. “My father will never be really free.”

Jenna thought of the hold alcohol had over her mother and knew exactly what Lieve meant. “One less demon then,” she said softly. “Please, Lieve… Help us so we can stop this.”

For a long moment the other woman simply stared at her. Finally she walked to the counter, removed a notebook and pen, and scribbled something across the paper’s surface. When she was done, she crossed the room to hand it to Jenna.

“If you tell someone where he is, he’ll be as good as dead.”

Jenna took the piece of paper, closing her hand over Lieve’s. “You have my word, we’ll tell no one.”

Lieve nodded, then stepped away. “You should go. It isn’t safe for you here. And it isn’t safe for me with you here either.”