“B-Brian? You’re…oh God. You were in on this the whole time?” Wheezing, I reach up to tap the earbud, but my vision starts to tunnel, and Arturo grabs my arm.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Fingers dig into my chin, turning my head, and he swears under his breath. “Fucking bitch.”
Plucking the comms unit from my ear, he throws it on the floor and stomps on it. My stomach pitches, and gasping for air, I can’t hold myself upright any longer.
Not again. This is so eerily similar to finding Corey and the poachers at the site, and tears spring to my eyes.
Arturo lets me fall, and I fumble for my inhaler and manage to get a hit of Albuterol before he kicks it out of my hand.
“Wait,” Brian says. He crouches down in front of me. “The plant will be a lot safer if she helps us transfer it.”
“Thought you…were my friend,” I manage. Wally retrieves the inhaler from across the room and thrusts it at me, and I take a second puff. I’m already starting to shake from the meds, but my airways are opening, and with the extra oxygen, my thoughts no longer feel quite so addled.
“I am, Mikayla. My work? Developing this drug? I couldcureParkinson’s. Don’t you understand that? And if I do it in Peru, I can skip all the red tape the US government puts in place. Lives could be saved in under a year! Not five. Join me. Things don’t have to end—“ he gestures to Arturo, who looms behind me with his arms crossed over his chest, “—like this.”
I don’t have any way to get in touch with Ronan or Austin. Unless…could I send a message to Austin that he’d understand?
“Give us a minute,” Brian says as he waves Arturo and Wally back. “I’m sure she’ll do the right thing. Think of Dr. Lowenstein, Mikayla. Youknowhe can’t wait five years. Human trials in three months. That’s what Nozanita’s promised me.”
“Wh-what did you to do Corey?” I ask.
Standing, Brian offers me his hand, and I let him pull me to my feet. “He left the hospital before we could get to him. But as long as he doesn’t cause trouble, I promise you, Mikayla. He’ll be safe. Help us get the plant, then show me all the samples you have of this hybrid. We need them all.”
“Transferring the orchid,” I say, my voice husky from the meds and my own fear, “will take a while, and when my partner dropped me off here today, he made me promise to call him every hour. I need to check in. If I don’t, he’s going to get suspicious and show up to check on me.”
“No fucking way,” Arturo snaps. “You’re not talking to anyone, bitch.”
“A text. I can just send him a text.” My heart hammers against my chest, so hard I’m afraid the men will be able toseeit. “I’ll even let you type it in.”
I hand Arturo my phone. “The unlock code is 422321. Text him this. ‘Dropped a whole fucking tray of blank slides in the lab. I’m fine, but I have a hell of a mess to clean up. Won’t be ready to go for another two hours.’”
Scowling the whole time, Arturo types my words, hits send, and pockets my phone. “I’ll keep this. Now get to work.”
Austin
Mik just swore. In a text. “We need to go. Right now,” I say as I snatch the keys for the SUV from the counter. Trevor follows me without question, and I double tap my earbud. It beeps when it starts transmitting, and then I hear Ronan’s voice.
“What is it?”
“Something’s wrong. Mik’s in trouble. Get the fuck in there now. Trevor and I are on the way.”
The SUV barrels down her residential street, and there better not be any cops between here and the lab, because I’m so far over the speed limit, they’d throw my ass in jail for sure.
Over comms, I hear Ronan arguing with the security guard. It’s not Thom today, but a different voice, and then the distinct sounds of a scuffle reach my ears.
“Fuck.”
“Talk to me, Austin,” Trevor says as he flips the safety off his Glock and chambers a round. I’ve never been so fucking glad to have him at my side as I am right now.
“Mik doesn’t swear. Ever.” I pass him my phone. “She’s not answering on comms. Do me a favor. Send her this. ‘No worries. How about I pick up sushi for dinner?’”
He shoots me a look of total and complete confusion, but sends the message, and I careen around a corner on two wheels. “Ronan? Talk to me, man.”
There’s a groan, and he whispers, “I’m down. Fuckin’ good Samaritans. They’re goin’ to take me to some security office in the basement and call the cops.”
Shit. We’re less than three minutes out, and I tear through a red light, narrowly missing some guy in a Tesla who gives me the finger. “Stall,” I tell Ronan. “We’re close.”
Trevor clears his throat. “She said ‘Sounds great.’”
