Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) (12 page)

She ripped off a piece with her teeth and chewed. “Were you married to Cammie’s mother?”

His gut clenched. Yeah, she was pissed and hurting, and he was the lucky recipient of her wrath. But she’d just been dealt a blow back there at the lab, and he knew she was upset.

“Yeah, I was. Almost nine years.”

She choked on her pizza, then grabbed a bottle of water and twisted off the cap. After she had a swig, she gaped at him. “Nine years? Wow.”

He sighed as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over a barstool. Then he leaned on the counter and met her wide-eyed gaze. For some reason, talking to her about his marriage didn’t seem so wrong. Maybe it was because he didn’t know her all that well, or maybe it was because she was upset and he wanted to take her mind off it. Though he still wasn’t sure why he even gave a fuck.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t blissful. Not all of it. We gave up when Cammie was five, I think. Then we tried to make it work for her sake. It didn’t.”

“I’m really sorry.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t meant to be. Would have been nice if we’d figured that out before Melissa got pregnant. Never forget the condom, cupcake. You’ll end up with a treasure beyond price, but you’ll also get stuck for life with a person you can’t stand.”

She licked her lips, and he found himself paying way too much attention to the movement of her tongue.
 

“So you’re recently divorced, then.”

“For the past six months, yes.” One corner of his mouth lifted in what he knew was a sardonic grin. “It wasn’t the most pleasant of divorces. We fought over everything—and she won custody.”

Grace reached out and put a hand over his fist on the island. “I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t remove his hand from hers because he liked the feel of it. He studied the way her skin was so light against his. Her hand was elegant and refined.

Then he looked up and met her gaze full force. Her pupils widened as he stared at her. He knew he had to look savage. He felt savage. He
wanted
to savage her—in a good way, of course. A carnal, hot, sexy way.

He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it.

“I appreciate that, cupcake.”

Her breath sucked in. “You are an infuriating man.”

“Melissa says much the same. Only not so elegantly.”

Her hand slid away, across the island until she gripped the edge. He wanted to tug her back again.

“I didn’t mean—” she began.

“I know.”

She sighed. “I don’t know you at all, Garrett Spencer. But I think you’re a decent human being. Mostly.”

He laughed. “And you’re right. Mostly,” he added with a wink.

She took another bite of her pizza, her teeth ripping into it almost savagely. His cock throbbed. Grace Campbell was passionate. Focused. Frustrated.

“Tell me about your research,” he said, and she nearly choked again.
 

But she swallowed her water and dropped the pizza into the open box. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.” She ran her fingers through her hair, shook her head as if to shake away doubts or frustrations. “I mean, it is bad, but not really. Not if we act to do something about it.”

“That’s evasive, Grace. You haven’t yet told me what you’ve discovered.”

She let out a long, defeated breath. Then she put her elbows on the counter and put her head in her hands. “It sounds so terrible—I know it does. I was researching the genome for the flu virus. H1N1 and the Spanish flu, to be precise. And I… combined them. There is no current human antibiotic response to such a combination…”

She looked miserable. And he was somewhat astounded. Impressed and horrified, really.
 

“That’s dangerous information to possess.” That kind of information would make her a target for all kinds of extremists and foreign powers if they knew she had it. In the wrong hands, her research would not be a good thing for the world. A chill ran down his spine.
 

If she could do that, what else could she do?
That
would be the next question on the minds of every scumbag with an agenda. Ebola? West Nile? Smallpox? What the wrong person could do with those as weapons was not a happy thought.

“I know it. But we’re going to make a vaccine. We’re going to be prepared.”

“How many people know about this?”

“Tim, the director—a handful of other scientists. Obviously the media has some clue about something, though they don’t appear to know for certain.”

“Tim asked you for the information—I assume he meant the precise sequence of steps you took?”

She nodded.
 

“Don’t give it to him.”

“I have no intention, believe it or not. It’s
my
research, and I’m not letting him take the credit for it.”

Credit? Hell, he was thinking something much worse than credit. What if Tim Fitzgerald wanted to sell the information? Or what if someone else did?

And then there was Ian Black, an old friend who’d wanted to have coffee with her sometime.
 

Jesus
.

“The man who accosted you—was there anything unusual about him?”

“Besides the fact he’d gotten past security and had a gun, you mean?”

“Grace, I’m fucking serious here. Was there anything that stood out to you?”

She frowned. “I thought he had a very slight accent. But I wasn’t really certain. It all happened so fast.”

“What kind of accent?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure I’m right.”

“Tell me how you got away.” He’d read the report, but maybe he hadn’t paid as much attention to it as he should have.

“I pressed the panic button on my car alarm. He was startled, and I ran. Then I found Tim and the man was gone. He took me inside and called security.” She shrugged. “That was it, until you showed up.”

The woman had the knowledge to make a supervirus, and she’d been alone in her house for days before her father called in a favor to Mendez. Going back and forth to work, vulnerable and in the open. It was mind-boggling.

And terrifying.

“There’s been nothing else? Except for the protests and the media, no one has contacted you?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Can your supervirus be weaponized?”

She looked startled. “That’s not part of my research—”

“But
can
it be done? Is it possible?”

“I… yes, of course. It can be done, but it would take time—and more virus than we have. It’s contained, Garrett. A laboratory experiment in a biosafety-level-three lab. This isn’t level-four stuff—hemorrhagic fevers, that kind of thing.”

He could only stare at her. “I thought you were a genetics researcher.”

“I
am
. Right now I’m specializing in the genetics of viruses—how they mutate, why, et cetera.”

The idea of it made his gut churn. The things scientists could do in labs. And the things the wrong person could do if they possessed the information.

The doorbell chimed and Grace jumped. “What now?” she cried.

Garrett reached for the weapon tucked into his shoulder holster. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

GRACE FOLLOWED ON GARRETT’S HEELS as he stalked to the front door. He’d removed his suit jacket, and his white shirt only emphasized the broadness of his shoulders. The shoulder-holster strap, cutting across the white cotton, was sexy as hell for some reason.

She’d never been turned on by guns or tattooed men before, but something about this one definitely made the blood rush beneath her skin—it rushed to places that throbbed and ached and wished he would touch them and relieve some of this tension.

Garrett drew up at the door, his gun in his hand, and looked out the peephole. Then he stepped back and motioned her forward. She moved past him, the hairs on her arms prickling at his nearness. Her skin tingled and her heart thrummed.

She peered out the tiny hole and then stepped back as anger rolled inside her belly. “It’s Jeffrey. What on earth is he doing here?”

“What do you want to do, Grace?”

She loved that he asked her. She took a deep breath. “If I don’t deal with it now, he’ll just keep coming back.”

Garrett nodded as he holstered the gun. And then he opened the door and faced Jeffrey. Her former boyfriend’s eyes widened as he took in Garrett’s size and menacing presence. No doubt her bodyguard had looked a little less intimidating in a tuxedo last night.

“Grace?” Jeffrey said, peering around Garrett. She could have laughed if she wasn’t so angry—and yes, hurt, since he’d been the one to dump her. This scene was almost a replay of earlier when Tim had stood in her office door.

It was kind of nice to have a dangerous-looking man standing between her and the world.

She moved to stand beside Garrett. “I’m surprised to see you here, Jeffrey. I thought you’d made yourself clear about your feelings.”

Had she really once thought him handsome? His brown hair was a bit long now, curling over his ears and collar. He was tall and thin—not muscular, but not skinny either. Jeffrey had the body of a runner rather than the body of a man who could probably bench-press a runner. Or two.

Yet seeing Jeffrey still made her belly slide into her toes and her skin flush hot. She’d thought he might be the one once. They’d taken their relationship slowly, becoming friends first and then falling into bed later, and she’d wrongly thought they had the basis for something deeper. Their relationship had ebbed and flowed as their jobs grew intense for short periods and then gave way to more time together.

She’d thought Jeffrey got it. She’d certainly thought she had—but then he’d told her he was bored and tired of their relationship. It had been a blow to her self-esteem, especially as her youngest sister was just getting married then and basking in the glow of love and belonging with her new husband.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “Alone.”

His gaze flicked to Garrett, and she could tell by the way he looked at her guard that he didn’t believe there was anything between them. That, regardless of what he might have seen last night, Garrett was not her lover.

And it made her angrier than she thought she’d ever been. Indeed, this had just been one shitty day so far.

She stepped back and swept an arm wide. “By all means, come in. But Garrett isn’t going anywhere.”

Jeffrey shot a look at Garrett. “Grace, this is ridiculous. I just want to talk. Come out here and close the door.”

“Not happening, dude,” Garrett said in that menacing voice of his. “The lady doesn’t leave my sight.”

Jeffrey swallowed. Then he spread his hands. “Shit, all right. Look, I just wanted to say that I, uh, I’m getting married and I, uh, thought you should hear it from me.”

Her belly felt like a stone. “Really? How nice, Jeff. But we split up a year ago—why would you think you needed to tell me?”

He put a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed. “I’m joining your father’s campaign, and I thought—I just wanted to clear the air between us before I did.”

Her blood turned to ice. Her parents had liked Jeffrey. He’d come to family gatherings—including Thanksgiving at their South Carolina estate once—and she knew everyone had thought they would marry eventually.

But now he was marrying someone else—someone he’d been seeing for a far shorter time than he’d dated her—and going to work on her father’s campaign.
 

“That’s mighty big of you, Godfrey,” Garrett said, sliding an arm around her and tugging her in close. Her body melted just a little at the heat and size of him.
 

“It’s Jeffrey,” her ex ground out, his face reddening as he watched them.

Grace slipped her arm around Garrett—and put her other hand over his chest for good measure. His heart beat strong and sure, and warmth slid through her, heating the chill in her bones. She was so grateful to him right now.

“Sweetie,” she said, tilting her head up to look at Garrett, “don’t be angry with him. I’m all yours now.”

Garrett’s eyes were hot as they raked over her face. He gripped her chin with his free hand and kissed her swiftly. Her breath stopped in her chest.

“You know I can’t get enough of you, cupcake,” he said against her lips. “Such a sweet, sweet body. And so fucking hot.”
 

He pulled her tighter to his side and lifted his head to look at Jeffrey. She had to admit she was gratified by the look of surprise on Jeffrey’s face. And part of her thrilled at the words Garrett said to her. Even the
cupcake
part.

“Sorry,
Jeffrey
,” he said, “but I get jealous when I think of anyone but me touching Grace. Thanks for being dumb enough to let her go.”

“I… I…”

Grace smiled—and funny enough, she actually felt like smiling at that moment just because Jeffrey’s confusion was so priceless. “It’s okay, Jeff. I haven’t thought about you in months, other than to wonder how you were. We were friends, and I hope we can remain so.”