Читать книгу Under Fire - Carol Ericson - Страница 8

Chapter Two

“Let me go!” She struggled and kicked her legs, but Dr. Ava Whitman was a tiny thing.

He could get her to go with him willingly if he sat down and explained the whole situation, but they didn’t have time for that. That could be Tempest at the door right now. He couldn’t even risk doing a more thorough search for the blue pills. He’d have to just take her at her word that there were none at the lab.

Maybe Dr. Whitman already knew the whole situation. Knew why Simon had gone postal. He couldn’t trust anyone...not even pretty Dr. Whitman.

Clamping her thighs against his shoulder, he stepped over the dead bodies littering the floor. When he navigated around the final murder victim in his path at the door of the clinic, Dr. Whitman stopped struggling and slumped against his back. If she’d had her eyes open the whole way, she probably just got her fill of blood and guts.

He crossed through the waiting room and kicked open the door to the stairwell. He slid Dr. Whitman down his body so that she was facing him, his arm cinched around her waist.

“Will you come with me now? I need you to walk up these stairs and out the side door. I have a car waiting there.”

Through his vest, he could feel the wild beat of her heart as it banged against her chest. “Where are we going? Why can’t we wait here for the police?”

“It’s not safe.” He grabbed her shoulders and squeezed. “Do you believe me?”

Her green eyes grew round, taking up half her face. She glanced past him at the clinic door and nodded. Then she grabbed the straps on his bulletproof vest. “My purse, my phone.”

“Are they in the clinic?”

“Yes.”

He shoved back through the door and pulled her along with him. He didn’t quite trust that she wouldn’t go running all over the lab searching for the security guards. Wouldn’t do her any good anyway—Simon had killed them all.

She broke away from him and yanked her purse from a rack two feet from the body of a coworker. She dipped her hand in the pocket of her lab coat hanging on the rack and pulled out a phone.

Another crash erupted from somewhere in the building, and Dr. Whitman dropped her phone. It skittered and twirled across the floor, coming to a stop at the edge of a puddle of blood.

She gasped and hugged her purse to her chest.

The noise, closer than the previous one, sent a new wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Let’s go!”

Her feet seemed rooted to the floor, so he crossed the room in two steps and curled his fingers around her wrist, tugging her forward. “We need to leave.”

Still holding on to Dr. Whitman, Max plucked her phone from the floor and headed toward the stairwell again. He half prodded, half carried Dr. Whitman upstairs, and when they reached the door to the outside, he inched it open, pressing his eye to the crack.

The car he’d stolen waited in the darkness. He pushed open the door of the building and a blast of air peppered with sand needled his face. He ducked and put an arm around Dr. Whitman as he hustled her to the vehicle.

She hesitated when he opened the passenger door. The wind whipped her hair across her face, hiding her expression.

It was probably one of shock. Or was it fear? “Get in, Dr. Whitman. They’re here.”

This time she didn’t even ask for clarification. His words had her scrambling into the passenger seat.

He blew out a breath and lifted the bulletproof vest over his head. Would Simon have turned the gun on him after everything they’d gone through together? Sure he would’ve. That man in there who’d just committed mass murder bore no resemblance to the Simon he knew.

He threw the vest in the backseat and cranked on the engine. He floored the accelerator and went out the way he came in—through a downed chain-link fence.

He hit the desert highway and ten minutes later blew past the small town that served the needs of the lab. The lab didn’t have any needs now.

After several minutes of silence, Dr. Whitman cleared her throat. “Are we going to the police now? Calling the CIA?”

“Neither.”

Her fingers curled around the edge of the seat. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“Home?” She blinked her long lashes. “Whose home?”

Without turning his head, he raised one eyebrow. “Your home. You have one, don’t you? I know you don’t live at the lab—at least not full-time.”

“Albuquerque. I live in Albuquerque.”

“I figured that. Once I drop you off, you’re free to call whomever you like.”

“But not now?”

“Not as long as I’m with you.”

She bolted upright and wedged her hands against the dashboard. “Why? Don’t you want to meet with the CIA? Your own agency? Tell them what happened back there?”

“What do you think happened back there?” He squinted into the blackness and hit his high beams.

“Simon Skinner lost it. He went on a murderous rampage and killed my coworkers, my friends.” She stifled a sob with the back of her hand.

She showed real grief, but was the shock feigned? Extending his arms, he gripped the steering wheel. “How much do you know about the work you do at the lab?”

“That’s a crazy question. It’s my workplace. I’ve been there for almost two years.”

“Your job is to treat and monitor a special set of patients, correct?”

“Since you’re one of those patients, you should know.” She dragged her fingers through her wavy, dark hair and clasped it at the nape of her neck.

One soft strand curled against her pale cheek. Whenever he’d seen her for appointments, her hair had been confined to a bun or ponytail. Now loosened and wild, it was as pretty as he’d imagined it would be.

“And the injections you gave us, the vitamin boost? Did you work on that formula?”

She jerked her head toward him and the rest of her curls tumbled across her shoulder. “No. Dr. Arnoff developed that before I arrived.”

“Did he tell you what was in it?”

“Of course he did. I wouldn’t inject my patients with some mystery substance.”

“Were you allowed to test it yourself? Did you work in that lab?”

“N-no.” She clasped her hands between her bouncing knees. “I wasn’t allowed in the lab.”

“Why not? You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

“I...I’m... The lab requires top secret clearance. I have secret clearance only, but Dr. Arnoff showed me the formula, showed me the tests.”

He slid a glance at her stiff frame and pale face. Was she still in shock over the events at the lab or was she lying?

“Now it’s your turn.”

His eyes locked onto hers in the darkness of the car. “What do you mean?”

“It’s your turn to answer my questions. What were you doing at the lab? You weren’t scheduled for another month or so. Why can’t we call the police or the CIA, or Prospero, the agency you work for?”

“Prospero?”

She flicked her fingers in the air. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Nobody ever told me the name of the covert ops agency we were supporting, but I heard whispers.”

“What other whispers did you hear?” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Wait a minute.” She smacked the dashboard with her palms. “I thought it was your turn to answer the questions. What were you doing there? Why can’t we call the police?”

“You should be glad I was there or Skinner would’ve gotten to you, too.”

Folding her arms across her stomach, she slumped in her seat, all signs of outrage gone. She made a squeaking noise like a mouse caught in a trap, and something like guilt needled the back of his neck.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease out the tension that had become his constant companion. “I was at the lab because I found out Skinner was going to be there. We can’t call the police for obvious reasons. I’m deep undercover. I don’t want to stand around and explain my presence to the cops.”

“And your own agency? Prospero?”

“Yeah, Prospero.” If Dr. Whitman wanted to believe he worked for Prospero, why disappoint her? The less she knew the better, and it sounded as if she didn’t know much—or she was a really good liar. “I’ll call them on my own. I wanted to get you out of there in case there was more danger on the way.”

“You seemed convinced there was.”

“We were in the middle of the desert, in the middle of the night at a top secret location with a bunch of dead bodies. I didn’t think it was wise for either of us to stick around.”

She leaned her head against the window. “What should I do when I get home?”

He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. If Tempest and Dr. Arnoff had kept Dr. Whitman in the dark, she should be safe. Tempest would do the cleanup and probably resume operations elsewhere—with or without Dr. Ava Whitman.

“Once I drop you off and hit the road, you can call the police.” He frowned and squinted at the road. “Or do you have a different protocol to follow?”

She turned a pair of wide eyes on him. “For this situation? We had no protocol in place for an active shooter like that.”

Maybe the whole bunch of them out there, including Dr. Arnoff, were clueless. No, not Arnoff. He had to have known what was going on, even if he didn’t know the why.

“Then I guess it’s the cops.” Even though the local cops would never get to the whole truth. He pointed to the lights glowing up ahead. “We’re heading into the city. Can you give me directions to your place? Is there someone at home?”

She hadn’t touched her cell phone once since they escaped from the lab. Wouldn’t she want to notify her husband? Boyfriend? Family?

“I live alone.”

He supposed she’d want to be with someone, have someone comfort her. God knew, he wasn’t capable. “Do you have any family nearby? Any friends to stay with?”

“I don’t have any family...here. I’m kind of new to the area and I spend a lot of time at the lab, so I haven’t had much time to cultivate friends.”

Hadn’t she told him she’d been working at the lab for two years? Two years wasn’t enough time to make friends? Maybe she’d been taking some of her own medicine.

“When the police come, they may want to take you back to the scene. You’ll probably have to lead them to the facility.”

She gasped and grabbed his arm. “What do I tell them about you?”

He stiffened and glanced down at her hand gripping the material of his jacket. She dropped it.

Was she offering to cover for him? He figured she’d waste no time at all blabbing to the cops about the man who’d shot Skinner and then whisked her out of the lab. “Tell them the truth.”

No law enforcement agency would ever be able to track him down anyway. Tempest had made sure of that.

“I can always tell them you were a stranger to me, that you wouldn’t tell me your name.” Her fingers twisted in her lap as she hunched forward in her seat.

She was offering to cover for him. Why would she do that, unless she knew more than she’d pretended to know?

“You’d lie for me?”

She jerked back and whipped her head around. “Lie? You’re an agent with a government covert ops team. If I learned anything at the lab, it was how to keep secrets. I never revealed any of my patients’ names to anyone, and I’m not about to start now.”

“I appreciate the...concern.” He lifted a shoulder. “Tell the cops whatever you like. I’ll be long gone either way.”

She tilted her chin toward the highway sign. “That’s my exit in five miles.”

“Then I’ll deliver you safe and sound to your home, Dr. Whitman.”

“You can call me Ava.”

After riding in silence for a while, Ava dragged her purse from the floor of the car into her lap and hugged it to her chest. “What happened to Simon? He looked...dead inside.”

“He snapped.” His belly coiled into knots. If Simon could snap like that, he could snap, too.

“Did you know about his condition somehow?”

“I had an idea, and when I discovered he was heading out to New Mexico I put two and two together.”

“Was it the stress of the assignments? I saw most of you four times a year, but of course you weren’t allowed to discuss anything with me. You all seemed well-adjusted though.”

Max snorted. “Yeah, I guess some would call that well-adjusted.”

“You weren’t? You’re not? Can I do anything to help you?”

She touched his arm again, this time lightly, brushing her fingertips across the slick material of his jacket.

The human contact and the emotion behind it made him shiver. He clenched his teeth. “You can’t do anything to help...Ava. You’ve done enough.”

She snatched her hand back again and studied her fingernails. “This is the exit.”

He steered the car toward the off-ramp and eased his foot off the accelerator. She continued giving him directions until they left the desert behind them and rolled into civilization.

He pulled in front of a small house with a light glowing somewhere inside.

She grabbed the door handle and swung open the door before the car even stopped.

“Hold on. I’ll walk you up.”

“I thought you were anxious to get rid of me.”

He scratched the stubble on his chin. That hour-long drive had been the closest he’d come to normalcy in a long time. He didn’t want to leave Ava, but he had to—for her own safety.

“I was anxious to get you away from the lab and back home. The police can pick it up from here.”

If there was anything left of the lab when they got there. Tempest had to know by now that one of its agents had gone off the rails. The crashes and noises at the lab could’ve been Tempest.

“Well, here I am.” She spread her arms.

He jingled the keys in his palm and felt for his handgun and other gear on his belt as he followed her to the front door.

She dragged her own keys from her purse and slid one into the dead bolt. It clicked and she opened the door.

Apprehension slithered down his spine, and he held out a hand. “Wait.”

But it was too late.

Ava had stepped across the threshold and now faced two men training weapons on her.

And this time she wasn’t behind bulletproof glass.