Chapter Twenty-Three
Austin
“I’m at the end of the block,” Ronan says in my ear. That bag he left for me? It had a lot more than just the Beretta inside. Two comms units, two small GPS trackers—thank God not the sub-dermal ones we used in Venezuela—and most of the contents of a standard go-bag. Pre-paid credit card, burner phone, five hundred dollars in cash, and a fake ID in case we need to get the hell out of here and go on the run. Mik’s ID will take another few hours—at least according to Dax’s last message.
Mik descends the stairs carefully, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a dark green tank.
“Did you hide the GPS—?”
“In my bra, yes.” In a move I can only imagine she designed to torture me, Mik cups her left breast, gently adjusting herself and sending desire shooting straight to my dick. “It’s the diameter of a pencil eraser and thinner than a dime. This thing really works?”
“Yep. Thirty-six hour battery life and unless you’re in a lead-lined room or at least fifty feet underground, the signal’s always readable.” I show her my phone, with twin dots flashing on a map of Edgewater, right over her house. Taking a small, black box from my pocket, I open it and offer her the earbud. “I’m not leaving your side, Mik, but if you want to be able to hear Ronan, you can wear this.”
“No. I’m drawing the line right here. No offense to Ronan. He seems like a very nice guy. But all of this extra precaution is ridiculous.Nothingis going to happen. My world doesn’t require stuff like this, and I don’t want that to change.” Copper streaks blaze in her eyes, and there’s no arguing with her expression or the edge to her voice. She has the GPS and she has me.
“If you change your mind, I’ll have it with me,” I say, then adjust my white button-down shirt so it hides the holster at my hip. “Ronan, we’re heading out now.”
“Roger that,” he replies, and though it goes against everything my dad ever taught me, I head out of Mik’s house first to scan the street. At least I can get the car door for her.
The drive to the Smithsonian takes less than fifteen minutes, and Ronan weaves in and out of traffic, passing us occasionally, then reappearing a block later five cars back. The man’s solid, and he’s learned a lot since Venezuela.
The parking lot isn’t secure, but the building’s entrance has a card reader as well as a security booth with a tall, beefy man inside. He ambles out to greet us, and Mik smiles. “Hey, Thom.”
“Dr. Salim. I didn’t think you were due back for another week,” he says as he checks his clipboard.
“I wasn’t. We were hit with some pretty bad storms, so we had to get out of there fast.” Mik takes my hand and smiles. “This is my…um…”
“Boyfriend,” I supply.
Her cheeks turn bright red, and that smile…every time I think she can’t possibly look any more beautiful, be any more perfect, I’m wrong. “My boyfriend, Austin Pritchard. Can you set him up with a visitor’s badge for the day?”
Thom looks me up and down, a hint of a fatherly glare in his eyes. “Been working this desk for two years, Dr. Salim. You’ve never brought a visitor with you.”
“Austin’s special,” she says. “I know I’m supposed to get him on the list twenty-four hours ahead of time, but I just got back last night and I didn’t think I’d need to come in at all today. Can you bend the rules just this once?”
With a chuckle, Thom nods. “Just this once. Can I make a copy of your driver’s license, Mr. Pritchard?”
I hand it over, and while Thom busies himself in his booth, I stare around the large, open lobby with floor-to-ceiling windows between narrow white pillars. We’re in full view of the parking lot, and will be until we reach the elevator. Not an ideal situation, but I count four security cameras, and when I lean forward to accept my license and visitor’s badge from Thom, I catch sight of a faint red glow from the underside of his desk. Just the right size to be a silent alarm.
“Thanks, Thom,” Mik says as she scans her card at a metal turnstile and then gestures for me to do the same with my temporary badge. “Next week, when I’m back to a more normal schedule, I’ll bring you some of those scones you like from Cookie’s Diner.”
“I’ll hold you to that, you know.” With a little wave, the guard heads back to his booth.
Once we’re in the elevator, Mik peers up at me. “See? I told you it was safe. No one’s getting in here without ID or an escort. The lab is even more secure. That visitor’s badge? Won’t do you any good past the elevator.”
She’s so earnest. But the one thing she’s not? Naive. Not anymore. I can see it in her eyes, and dammit. I’d give anything to put that hope, that light back in them. “Sweetheart, this place is a hell of a lot safer than I expected. You were right.” She smiles up at me with a look that screamsI told you so, and I’d roll my eyes if I didn’t think it’d earn me a trip to the doghouse. Because I fully intend to be in her bed tonight. And every night for as long as she’ll have me. “I’ll feel better after Wren gets back to us.”
At least, I hope I will.
Mikayla
Being back at the Smithsonian is both deeply satisfying and worrisome at the same time. This is my home—almost as much as my actual house—and for three years, some of my happiest moments have been spent here.
I show Austin my little office, the lab where we analyze all of our samples, and the greenhouse. “You can’t enter the lab without protective gear. The phytotoxin the Blushing Note releases can cause bradycardia, even in small amounts.”
“Bradycardia? Is that like heart palpitations from watching theBrady Bunch?” he asks with a wicked smile. “I had a major crush on Marcia when I was a kid.”
Slapping a hand to his chest, I level him with my most serious stare. “You do not joke about bradycardia. Your heart rate plummets, you get dizzy, weak, and you can pass out and die because your blood doesn’t circulate like normal, so not enough oxygen to your cells—or your brain.”
