“Ryker.”
“Shoo,” Wren says as she tips her head up to look at him. “Austin calledme, not you. Go knock down a wall or something.”
“Knock down a wall?”
“We’re remodeling. Well, Ry is. I’m—“
“Supervising,” Ry calls out.
This time when she smiles, it’s like someone told the sun to come out and play. At least form the look on her face. But in the next breath, she sobers and scoots forward on the couch. “What do you need?”
“Wren, this is Mikayla. Dr. Mikayla Salim. We need you to work some of your magic.”
Half an hour later,Wren knows everything. Well, mostly everything. Not what happened upstairs last night. Not how I feel about Austin. Or how I suspect he feels about me. Or…maybe she does, because when she signs off, she says, “Give me a couple of hours, tops. You’ll be together, right?”
“Yes,” Austin replies as he drapes his arm around my shoulders. “We’re not going anywhere today if I can help it.”
“Well, just make sure you answer the dang phone when I call, okay? No funny business.” With a wink, she ends the call, and I groan.
“Not going anywhere? You practically told her we were going to spend the day having sex.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” He cups the back of my neck and leans in. This kiss isn’t quick, it’s anything but, and if he wasn’t standing so close, I think I’d melt right off the chair into a puddle of goo. At least that’s how my insides feel.
“No, but we can’t simply hide away from the world forever. I have to call my boss and tell him what happened. And…oh God. Dr. Branch.”
“Who?” Austin’s eyes narrow and he reaches for his tablet.
“Dr. Brian Branch with Johns Hopkins. The phytotoxin from the Blushing Note’s pollen and root system are a key component in a new Parkinson’s treatment he’s developing. He co-signed the grant application that sent us to Mexico in the first place. He’s going to be devastated.”
Snapping a Bluetooth keyboard into the tablet, he sends Wren a message to add Branch to her research, then glances up at me. “I need your boss’s name too.”
“Brian’s not involved in any of this. Neither is Lowenstein. Heck, Howard was diagnosed with Parkinson’s six months ago. There’s no way he’d put this research in jeopardy.” I shake my head. “I know you’re just trying to protect me, Austin. But not everyone’s out to get me. Some people are just…basically good.”
“Some are.” He threads his fingers through my hair, and though I try to pull away, he urges me closer. “But we thought Corey was a good guy too. And maybe a part of him was. He helped me find you. Too little too late for my liking, but he could have given me the wrong coordinates, done…any number of things to stop or delay me until it was too late.” His body’s gone rigid again, and a muscle in his jaw ticks as fear swims in his hazel eyes. “I won’t take a chance that someone else in your life contributed to this shitshow. Until Wren gets us some answers,everyone’sa suspect.”
“Even Li? Isaiah? They almostdied, Austin.”
“So did Corey. Almost dying? Doesn’t mean shit. Not where these assholes are concerned. They didn’t have a problem killing you, shooting at me, or burning your students alive. There’s somethingbiggoing on here, Mik. Bigger than any of us. Big enough whoever’s behind it doesn’t mind a hell of a lot of collateral damage. So yes. Everyone’s a suspect.”
Ducking out of his hold, I stalk toward the stairs, doing my best to ignore the lingering pain in my ankle. “Then you might as well add yourself to the list. Heck. Add me too while you’re at it. Maybe I jumped off that cliff.” Anger and terror make for a bad mix, and my stomach roils, sending nausea crawling up the back of my throat as I turn with my hand on the banister. “You’re being an overprotective jerk. I need a shower. Alone.”
“Mik,” he calls, but I ignore him as I flee up the stairs and lock myself in the bathroom. I refuse to believe that Howard or Brian have any part in this, let alone Li and Isaiah. I just wish I had some idea who could have set this whole thing up and why.
By the timeI come downstairs again, two hours have passed. I took my time. A long shower to rinse the scent of Austin—of us together—from my body, careful application of what little makeup I wear, and then, unpacking my suitcase and starting laundry all gave me enough time to calm down and find a little perspective.
I’m alive. Currently safe. At home, where I’m comfortable and, if I’m honest, have the upper hand. If I asked Austin to leave, he would. Granted, he’d probably sit in the SUV within sight of the house for however long it takes to find out who’s after me and why, but I wouldn’t have to see him.
The problem? I want to see him. I want more than that. Earlier? He barely caught himself in time and almost told me he loved me. And I might be falling in love with him too.
I find him sitting on the couch hunched over his tablet, the television playing a twenty-four-hour news channel on low, and an empty coffee cup next to the keyboard.
“Can I get you a refill?” I ask, pouring myself another cup from what’s obviously a fresh pot. “Along with an apology?”
“For calling me an overprotective jerk?” He leans back, stretching his legs out under my coffee table. “I probably deserved it. But Mik, it’s my job to keep you safe.”
“Your job? Please tell me I’m not just…a job—“
Austin’s across the room before I finish my sentence, eases the coffee from my hand, and holds me close. “You arenota job, Mikayla. You’re everything. I don’t want to lose you to these assholes. Or because I chewed on my own boot leather one too many times.” He nuzzles my neck, trailing kisses from my ear to my collar bone. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
