Prescription: Makeover (14 page)

As if on cue, a quiet knock drew her attention to the hallway door, sending a jolt of heat through her system. Still wearing the navy outfit she’d chosen for their lab visit, she crossed the room and opened the door.

It wasn’t William. It was Max.

“Oh,” she said, far more disappointed than she should have been. “Hey.”

“Want to grab some dinner?”

She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that it was well past suppertime. Even more surprising, she wasn’t particularly hungry, for food or company. “No, thanks. I’m going to keep pounding the info superhighway. There’re only about a billion people named Smith to choose from. And besides, tomorrow’s going to be a big day.” They planned to be in place several hours before the press conference, along with the two HFH operatives Zach Cage had sent to protect Kupfer.

Max hesitated, looking at her long and hard before he nodded. “Okay. See you in the morning.”

She closed the door on him, then pressed her ear to the panel. He stood for a moment before he turned and headed down the hall. His reluctance to leave her, coupled with the furtive sounds now coming from William’s room next door, only served to confirm her suspicion.

The menfolk thought they were putting one over on her. Well, she’d show them.

She yanked open her suitcase and dug down to the single familiar outfit she’d brought with her. Feeling a buzz just beneath her skin, she stripped out of conservative navy and pulled on basic black. The dark jeans slid on like an old friend, as did the black turtleneck and short biker jacket. Her feet almost wept with relief the moment she pulled on her boots, and when she stood and inhaled, she felt almost normal for the first time in a week.

Then she got a look at herself in the mirror and cringed because the woman who stared back at her remained a stranger. The clothes were right, but her hair was long and light, too close to her natural shade for comfort, and her face was skillfully made up with blush and lip gloss that was far too soft for the hard-edged outfit.

She looked more like a fake now than she had while wearing a dress.

“Hell,” she muttered and dived into Eleanor’s makeup bag for something that would make the Mary Sue in the mirror disappear.

She was tempted to cut off the hair extensions, but she didn’t have enough time, so she settled for pulling her long hair back in a tight ponytail. Then she scrubbed off the makeup and went with her usual swipe of mascara, wishing it were black rather than medium brown.

That helped matters, but her face still looked naked, so she sucked it up and applied a bit of Eleanor’s darkest lip gloss.

“Not bad,” she said and watched the woman in the mirror shape the words with painted lips. “Just one more accessory.”

She popped the false bottom on the suitcase and pulled out a small .22, along with a wallet containing an ID, credit cards and a permit to carry concealed, all in the name Ike Rombout. Checking the safety and clip, she tucked the gun in the small of her back, beneath the biker jacket, and jammed the paperwork in a pocket.

Armed and dangerous, she strode to the connecting door and knocked, primed for a fight. There was a pause before the door opened to reveal William, wearing dark clothes and a resigned expression.

Ike planted herself squarely in front of him and lifted her chin. “Either I go with you or I follow you. Your choice.”

He didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t headed for the Markham Institute to look around the fourth floor. He gave her a long look up and down, and she wasn’t sure how to interpret the change in his eyes before he said flatly, “No. You’re not coming with me and you’re not following me. I’m not letting you get yourself killed on my watch.”

“Nobody asked you to watch me.” She held up a hand when he would’ve contradicted her. “Yes, I’m sure Max made you my protector, but as I believe I’ve said before, he doesn’t have the right to decide what I’m allowed to do and what I’m not. You don’t have the right. And Zach Cage might technically be my boss, but that doesn’t even give him the right to control me.”

This time his expression was a snap to read, because his frustration was a mirror of her own. He sighed heavily. “I don’t want to control you, Ike.”

Sure you do,
she thought.
That’s what men do.
But aloud she said, “Then let me come with you. I can help.”

“You’ll distract me. I’d be so worried about looking after you that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the job.”

She shrugged. “That’s your problem, not mine.” She gestured down at her black pants. “See? No dress. Just think of me as one of the guys.”

He bit back a bark of laughter and then stepped in and leaned down until they were practically nose to nose. “Let’s get one thing straight. Even when you’re at your most annoying, I’ve never mistaken you for a man.”

This time when the heat flared it didn’t die down. Instead kindling a traitorous warmth deep inside her, one that reflected the growing spark in his eyes.
I want you,
it said,
but I won’t accept you as an equal.

Too bad, Ike thought, because that kind of wanting wasn’t enough for her. And though she wasn’t sure where the thought had come from, it fit in a way her skin, her new hair and her old clothes didn’t.

Not stopping to absorb the realization, she said, “Why can’t you see that we’re both doing this for the same reason? You feel responsible for Sharilee’s death, so you’re determined to protect me. Zed died because of me, so I’m determined to help you bring Odin down. It’s the same. We’re the same.”

“I’m not trying to keep you alive because of what happened to Sharilee,” he said quietly. “Maybe I was at first. But now I’m worried about you because I think the world would be a poorer place without you in it.”

That brought Ike to a stuttering halt and punched a fist beneath her heart. She swallowed hard, more affected than she ought to have been when she prided herself on not needing anyone’s approval but her own.

She stared at William, who was closer than she’d thought, so close she could feel the heat of his body against her skin. His eyes held silent entreaty.
Do this for me, please.
But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

“Thanks,” she said, still shaken by the idea that he could like her for who she was, then slowly realizing that he didn’t. He liked the idea of her but couldn’t handle the reality, which was that she wouldn’t stay in his shadow, no matter the circumstance. So she stepped away from him, away from the tempting warmth and the promise of a sanctuary that came with conditions. “I appreciate the thought more than you can know. But that doesn’t change anything. I want to do this, William. I need to do it. So you choose — am I going with you or am I going on my own?”

He stared at her for a long moment, so long she thought the answer would be no. Then he cursed and turned away, saying over his shoulder, “Have it your way. Just don’t slow me down.”

Not only did she not slow him down, William was forced to admit, she sped things up by bringing him directly to a rear stairwell door he hadn’t seen before.

At his inquiring look, she shrugged and said, “I pulled the schematics. Trust me, I was going in with or without you tonight.”

There was no sign of surveillance, no alarm as they slipped into the stairwell and climbed to the fourth floor. Granted, the Markham Institute wasn’t exactly high on the security scale, but Odin was nothing if not thorough. If there was something to protect on the fourth floor, it would’ve been protected. The lack of response bothered William, making him think they were on a wild goose chase.

Or walking straight into a trap.

“Wait,” he said once she’d bypassed the keypad and opened the door to the fourth floor. “Let me go first.”

He expected an argument. She surprised him by stepping back.

Drawing his weapon, William slipped through the door and into a darkened hallway, which was lit only by emergency lights that gleamed small pools of brightness on the waxed floor. The air smelled faintly stale, but that might’ve been his imagination.

He waited a beat but didn’t hear anything above the faint hum of blowers and automated machinery. Gesturing for Ike to follow, he stepped into the hallway and let the door close and latch, then indicated that she should lead. If she’d memorized the schematics for the building, she’d know where the offices were located, and that would be the best place to start.

Moments later they were inside a roomy office with
Dr. Minor J. Johnson
stenciled on the door.

Ike took a seat at the neat-looking desk, pulled the computer keyboard into position and glanced up at him. “What do you think?”

He briefly debated the wisdom of accessing the institute’s intranet, then gave her a go-ahead gesture. “If they didn’t notice us breaking in, they’re not likely to log the computer access until business hours tomorrow, and by that time it’ll be pretty much over one way or the other.” Either Odin would have made his move and been captured or they’d be back to square negative one, with precious few leads and no idea as to his next target.

William refused to consider the third possibility — that Odin would strike and escape — because based on his note Kupfer wasn’t the only target now. Ike was in danger, too, and William didn’t intend to let the bastard hurt her.

She’d made it clear that she didn’t want to be his responsibility, but that was too bad, because somewhere along the line she’d become exactly that. He wasn’t sure when or how she’d sneaked past his defenses, but there she was, lodged in a place that had been closed off for a long time, longer perhaps than he’d even been aware.

Whether she liked it or not, he intended to keep her safe — or die trying.

“Get going.” She made a shooing motion, then turned back to the computer. “I’ll need ten, maybe fifteen minutes if I’m going to be sure I don’t leave tracks.”

“You’ve got ten,” he said, feeling the seconds tick beneath his skin. The lack of an alarm suggested there was no manned security in place, but could be a remote system to call the cops in the event of a break-in.

He didn’t intend to stick around long enough to find out. With Grosskill somehow involved, they couldn’t even trust the local police.

Though a deep-seated masculine instinct told William to stay with Ike, logic and necessity sent him back out into the lab lobby. He rifled the receptionist’s desk and flipped through her day planner, finding nothing more incriminating than a reminder of a two-o’clock meeting with “G,” which might or might not refer to Grosskill. Then he moved into the second large office, which belonged to Dr. Karma Leon. The trash can beneath the desk was empty, but when William pulled it out of the kneehole, he found a small collection of wadded-up Post-its jammed behind the can. A quick scan yielded two arrow-bearing Sign Here notes and a few blank Post-its. Alone, the findings were nothing he could build a case on, but he made note of the arrows, which suggested an official document.

A licensing contract with the mysterious Smith? Maybe, maybe not. Still nothing concrete, and the minutes were ticking down on his estimated safety zone, so he headed for the lab itself. He had his hand on the airlock door handle when he heard Ike’s low cry of triumph.

He was at her side in an instant, leaning over to peer past her shoulder at the computer screen. “What’ve you got?”

“More on Firenzetti.” She keyed in a command, and a printer in the corner of the room began churning out pages. “Johnson had a meeting with him two weeks ago.” She shot him a look. “He keeps showing up. Makes me start to think he might be our guy after all.”

William’s wrist unit chimed faintly, signaling the end of their ten minutes. “Nice work. Grab your papers and let’s get out of here.”

He couldn’t have said why, but he was convinced their time was running out. Instincts flared to life, old survival tactics he hadn’t used since his time undercover in the Trehern operation, old fighting patterns he’d consciously tried to forget since his years in the military, when the things his sensei had thought beautiful had been turned violent and corrupt in the name of survival.

“You find anything?” she asked as she folded the pages and tucked them into her waistband next to the pistol she’d concealed beneath her short black jacket.

“Only that everything seems to have ground to a halt Tuesday afternoon,” he said. “There’s nothing dated after that point. It’s like the whole lab staff suddenly stood up and walked out.”

He didn’t bother voicing the other possibility — that Odin had killed them in order to control floor space very near the Kupfer lab. But when Ike passed him on her way out of Johnson’s office, her tight expression spoke volumes, making him want to hold her and tell her everything would be okay.

He didn’t, though, because he didn’t have the right and because they both knew it would be an empty promise. They were working on partial information, doing the best they could without official backup. Worse, it appeared they were quite likely working
against
an official response, if Grosskill’s involvement was anything to go by.

They knew to be on the lookout for Firenzetti, but was that going to be enough to help them in the next few hours? William didn’t think so as he followed Ike down the stairs. Sure, he could give the name to Grosskill’s higher-ups, but with no evidence and no assurance that those same higher-ups weren’t involved, it would be like spitting on a bonfire. Useless.

Without major evidence, it came right down to the bare bones — their best bet was staking out the press conference.

When they hit the bottom floor, Ike grabbed the outer door handle and glanced at him, waiting for his go-ahead. He pushed past her. “I’ll take point.”

He eased open the door and looked around. The parking lot looked exactly the same as it had when they arrived — deserted blacktop lit in places by cones of orangey sodium light. It had started raining while they were inside, slicking the pavement and lending a chilly haze to the air.

Seeing nothing unexpected, William nodded. “We’re good. Come on.”