Authors: Victoria Paige
When she came, she was exquisite. She was so fucking beautiful, and just as Nate followed her into climax, he yelled out the words of love he could never say before. Sylvie owned his heart and his words. And he was pretty sure she owned his soul.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“What’s with you this week?”
It had been a few days since Nate told Sylvie he loved her, but as of today, she had not said the words back. It was unsettling. He told her plenty of times since then, but she would just smile and kiss him.
It was starting to piss him off.
Knowing his sour mood was obvious in the office only unsettled him more. Travis knew better than to ask him about it, but Beatrice was the opposite. She was perched on his desk at the moment, eyeing him curiously.
“Trouble in paradise?”
Interestingly enough, Beatrice might just be the person to ask. She was his best female friend, and that meant platonic in the real sense of the word.
Still, it was nerve-racking. He’d been coasting through his bachelorhood without much emotional entanglement, and this time he didn’t know fuck all what to do about it.
“Last Saturday, I told Sylvie I loved her.”
Beatrice’s eyes brightened and her smile almost blinded him. “That’s great . . .” Seeing his face, her mouth turned down. “Not great?”
“She hasn’t said it back.”
“That bitch.”
Nate’s eyes narrowed. “Hey . . . watch it. We’re talking about Sylvie.”
Beatrice pouted. “Well, you’re my friend. My loyalty is to you.”
He grinned at that. “Oh, well. Thanks. But seriously, don’t call Sylvie that word again. I’m not standing for that.”
His red-haired friend sighed. “Okay. She was really nice when I spoke to her.” A look of realization crossed Beatrice face. “Wait. Saturday was the day she got taken.”
“Yes,” Nate said warily. “Your point?”
“My point, dickhead, despite how dramatic it may seem, declarations of love after an extreme event are largely suspect.”
Nate wasn’t about to volunteer that he said it after mind-blowing sex. “And you’re an expert on this because—?”
“Well, I did the same to Gabe. Remember when he almost died?”
“Who could forget?” Nate muttered. “The man almost lost all his blood defending your stubborn ass.”
Beatrice glared at him. “Not funny. Anyway, that’s when I told him I loved him.”
“Oh, when he was about to die?”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Yes. And I regretted not realizing my emotions until then. See the problem with you, Reece, you’ve never matured emotionally when it comes to dealing with women—”
“Now wait a minute—”
“Have you ever had a serious girlfriend until now?”
Nate thought long and hard, then he lightened up. “Sandra Mae Booker.”
Beatrice almost growled at him. “That was high school, wasn’t it?”
“Tenth grade,” Nate grinned. “I dated her for six months.”
The redhead in front of him was fast losing patience, so he relented. “Yeah, never had a serious girlfriend. Doesn’t mean I have no right to say the words when I know I mean it.”
Beatrice tapped her lips. “Hmm . . . so your only gripe is she hasn’t said it back.”
Nate lips tightened.
“I’m not griping. I just have this knot in my stomach. I know she loves me, but why won’t she say it?”
“Does she show you?”
“I have no complaints there, and I’m not talking about the sex. I love going home to her. At the end of the day, I can’t wait to see her. I can’t imagine living my life as a CIA operative again and being away from her.”
“I take it back, you’ve grown up,” Beatrice said. “As long as you feel it, do you need the words?”
Before Nate could answer, his door burst open and Caitlin came rushing through, laptop in hand.
“Does she do this all the time?” Beatrice asked dryly.
Nate shook his head, his attention at the screen Caitlin was holding out to him. “I’ve narrowed it down to a list of companies, but I have a strong hunch about the first one.”
“Pasteur Science Labs?” Nate read the name of the first company.
“It’s the manufacturer of that cholesterol drug, Lipiven,” Caitlin said.
“Lipiven,” Beatrice murmured. “Wasn’t that the drug that got pulled a couple of years ago?”
“No. It’s still on the market, but the FDA is seriously considering withdrawing its approval if the risks outweigh the benefits and if PSL can’t come up with a viable solution to fix the contraindication of its drug.”
“Serious liver damage,” Nate muttered. “It can’t be the only company with this problem.”
“No, but its CEO, Brandon Calderon is married to Dana Alberts.” The blonde woman paused dramatically.
“Cat, you really need to stop with all this fucking suspense,” Nate pushed through gritted teeth.
Caitlin’s eyes widened before eyeing him coolly. “Travis said you were in a weird mood this week.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Nate growled. He felt like yanking his hair out.
“Dana Alberts is Drake Lassiter’s half-sister.”
“Wait, what?”
“Same mother, different father,” Cat continued then clicked on several screens. “There’s a rare picture of Lassiter with his sister and Calderon. But the siblings’ relationship is mostly low profile. You can hardly find anything on them.”
“Lassiter has been deep cover with the DEA,” Nate said. “He’s tangled with the Mexican Cartel several times and is probably protecting the blowback to his sister. I know some DEA agents cut all family ties. He’s ruthless.”
“But would he harm an innocent woman like Sylvie?”
“As far as Lassiter is concerned, Sylvie has played a hand in her father’s business when she agreed to transport the GDE pills, ergo, she’s as guilty. He’s the type of guy wherein the end justifies the means.” He could just read it on Lassiter’s face.
“So what are you going to do with the information?” Cat asked.
He sat back in his chair. The clock was ticking on Pasteur Science Labs. Based on Caitlin’s report, they had three months to come up with a viable solution, or else the drug would get pulled from the market. That wasn’t a lot of time considering the drug needed to be reworked.
“Who’s heading up the research on the drug?”
“Harold Tisdale is their lead biochemist.”
“Dig up information on him as well and send it to my phone,” Nate said. Leaning forward, he buzzed Emily at the reception. “Em, can you find the whereabouts of Drake Lassiter? Try the DEA field office first. If not, get hold of Cade Bowen. His number is in our database.”
“You’re just going to confront him?” Caitlin asked.
“I’m not going to play detective with this guy,” Nate said. “He’s all up in my ass about Sylvie’s father, and I find he may have an ulterior motive other than his job? That plain pisses me off. Fighting to clean up illegal drugs is one thing, but when the motive becomes about money and big companies, zero tolerance, Cat.”
“Just be careful, Nate,” Beatrice warned.
*****
Sylvie heaved a sigh when the contractor left after giving her the estimate for fixing her office. They were also going to take care of additional gas lines into the kitchen and ramen bar. However, for now, Sylvie and her team were able to get the kitchen functional to tweak their upcoming menu. The RevivalTrail campaign had been unfrozen and the contributions were stronger than ever, and they were almost at their goal. Right now, Kato and Taylor were quibbling about the fourth and fifth course of the special dinner for their biggest backers.
“I don’t think Sylvie will go for liquid nitrogen Yuzu ice cream,” Taylor said. “Why not a simple fucking ice cream. And what the fuck are suspension tapioca balls?”
“Have you ever heard of molecular gastronomy?” Kato snarked.
“Kid, I’m old school. I think Sylvie is too.”
“Taylor’s right,” Sylvie said, before she dissolved into laughter listening to their bickering. “Don’t think we won’t try out some of your ideas in the future, Kato. Just not now. I don’t think our backers will appreciate any gas-type sounding names after the explosion, don’t you think?”
“Fuck, I didn’t think about that,” Kato muttered, turning red. “Sorry, chef.”
“S’okay,” Sylvie replied. “Not slamming you on it. You were excited about an idea and you went with it.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let a chef’s mind be restricted to tradition. Dishes may be traditional, but you need to be open-minded enough to come up with different methods to improve their flavors or preparation. Do not strive for perfection, strive for—”
“Progress,” Kato finished for her, grinning. Obviously, she had hammered that motto in his head enough.
“Exactly, grasshopper,” Sylvie teased. She held out her keys. “Now get the rice cooker from my truck.”
“It’s here?”
“Yes, it got delivered to Nate’s house yesterday.” One of their rice cookers got smashed when the kitchen shelves collapsed. After Kato left the kitchen, Taylor turned to her. “You’re babying that kid too much.”
“I’m not,” Sylvie said, frowning. “He does have good ideas. He’s young, Taylor.”
“You’re not even ten years older than he is.”
“But he’s the future,” Sylvie said. “I was him once. I understand how he feels because I was restricted by the traditional teachings of the chefs in Japan. But there was that one mentor who listened to me. It meant a lot. It builds confidence and creativity. I’m not regretting my other training, because Japanese cuisine is steeped in tradition, but there’s always an opportunity to make it better.”
“How does one so young have so much wisdom?” Taylor grinned teasingly.
“Would you quit? You’re only three years older than I am.”
“I feel so old,” Taylor groaned, cracking his neck from side to side and stretching.
Sylvie looked at him sympathetically. Working in a kitchen was very physical.
“The upheaval of the past two weeks is getting to you, what with a baby along the way. How many more months?”
“Three. I hate to leave you in a bind, but I might have to take off for two weeks.”
“We should be okay. Koji should be back from his Japan vacation. I got an email from him yesterday, inquiring how things were going.”
“Looks like you guys need me,” a voice said from the doorway.
It was Cade.
Sylvie’s initial reaction was to go hug him, but she remembered his deception, so instead, she wrapped her arms tightly around her body. “Hi, Cade.”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I guess I’m still not exactly welcome.”
“I saw him hanging outside.” Kato entered the kitchen carrying the big box of the rice cooker. “He looked pitiful when Sam refused to let him in.”
The bodyguard in question appeared in the doorway, scowling at Cade.
Sylvie raised a brow and looked at Sam. “What made you decide to let him in?’
“Oh, come on, Sylvie,” Cade protested.
“Nate gave the okay,” Sam replied. “Apparently, he and Cade had talked earlier—”
“That’s why I’m here,” her former employee replied. “Nate needed some information and all I asked was to see how all you guys were doing.”
Conflicted emotions battled inside her. Betrayal, no matter what the reason, was hard to get past. But would just hanging out for today do any harm? Not really. Sylvie looked around at her remaining team.
“We’re planning a special menu for our biggest backers,” Sylvie said. “We’re experimenting with the seared Wagyu steak. Care to stay and sample?”
Cade grinned. “Heck, yeah!”
*****
Nate drove his bike along Route 7 toward the stretch of Leesburg Pike where rolling hills of big farmland stretched for miles. He turned onto a dirt road leading to a ranch style house. There was an additional structure that resembled a detached garage with living quarters above. It didn’t take him long to spot Lassiter, considering his massive bulk.
From what Cade told him, most of their team was on leave for a few days following the opportunity lost in nabbing Yoshida. There was no official record that Hiroshi Mori was dead. Nate had the footage on his security cameras; he just didn’t know what to do with it. Admiral Porter advised him to leave it alone. It was ACS business. Mori wasn’t a United States citizen, and it was best to leave organized crime to shovel its own shit and not waste taxpayer dollars.
And Mori was definitely shit.
Lassiter was bent over the hood of a WWII truck, tinkering with its engine. As his bike approached, Nate saw the man straighten and reach for something by the truck.
A shotgun.
Shit.
Slowing down, he was glad he was wearing one of those half-helmets that didn’t cover the face. Still, Nate was praying Lassiter was a cool cucumber when it came to surprise visits. He rolled to a stop three feet from the guy, staring down the barrel of shotgun.
“Don’t you guys call first?”
“Oh, like you guys did last Saturday?” Nate shot back. Probably not a good idea to give such a smartass remark, seeing he was still staring down a double barrel.
“Good point.” Lassiter lowered the shotgun and grabbed the cigar he had placed on the hood.
“Is it a good idea to be smoking those and working on an ancient vehicle?”
The other man puffed a billow of smoke right at him. “Good point, but then, I like to live dangerously.” He took the cigar out of his mouth and pointed at him. “What brings you here, Reece? I’m on vacation, and I’d like to clear my head while I’m at it.”
Nate’s intention wasn’t to be confrontational, but he didn’t want to prevaricate either. “What can you tell me about your brother-in-law’s problem with Lipiven?”
Lassiter’s face turned ashen, before his features hardened into shards of granite. “What are you getting at, Reece?”
“Liver damage and failure. Pretty serious side effects. The drug is going to be withdrawn from the market soon, and it’ll cost Pasteur Science Labs millions.”