A Shot of Red (5 page)

Mia could hardly stand seeing Nora’s pain. She felt it, too, but not nearly as magnified and constant. “It’s okay. I understand.” She hoped she sounded reassuring even though she wished only she and Nora knew about Brent’s suspicions. “But this is very serious. I need you to make sure no one else finds out about what you’ve told me.” She chose her words carefully since she was dealing with a frightened, brokenhearted mother. “If Brent was a victim of foul play, then others could be in danger, too.”
Like you…and me.

“How did this happen?” Nora asked, desperation in her voice. “Two weeks ago I had a mostly happy, healthy son. Now he’s gone. All I have left is a video telling me good-bye and how much he loved me, more grief than I can manage, and worry that someone might be after me.”

Mia could compile a similar list, although not nearly as grave. “I’m so sorry.”

About lots of things.

“I appreciate you having the strength to keep your promise to Brent,” Mia said. “And for giving me this.” She held up the envelope, then tucked it into her purse. “I’ll watch it as soon as I can.”

Seeming to sense that Mia was getting ready to leave, Nora slid to the edge of her seat and clutched Mia’s hand in a death grip. “There’s one last thing you can do for me and Brent.” She squeezed Mia’s hand until it hurt. “I’m begging you to go to Switzerland and find out what really happened to him.”

Chapter Four

Mia sat in her assigned seat up on the stage in the O’Byrne Gallery. She sneaked in a deep breath, working to look relaxed in front of all the cameras and the media. No doubt millions of people were tuned in to the press conference that had just gotten under way. She sat numbly next to her brother, who seemed much more at ease than she was. If Nora was to be believed, Mia was sitting in support of her family’s company’s launching the very vaccine Brent had been suspicious about before he’d died. But she didn’t have enough information to stand up and object.

She’d had no time to watch the video Brent had sent her. Even if she had, there’d be quite a bit of due diligence to be done before she’d believe his claims. Still, she worried. Brent hadn’t been an overreactor or a conspiracy-theory type. What could he have know that would’ve compelled someone to kill him to keep it secret?

Mia couldn’t get Nora off her mind. Despite everything she was going through, she’d been very gracious to Mia and always had been. She was also an awesome mom to Brent. Totally opposite of Mia’s mother, with whom Mia had rarely gotten along. Mia was still working out why. Because she’d been a grandmother and granddaddy’s girl, and a daddy’s girl? Or because her mother had only a finite amount of love to give her twins and most of it went to Matthew? The last guess made more sense because Matthew never had a thought that wasn’t put in his head by their mother. Besides, he looked just like her, whereas Mia favored their father.

Mia glanced across the stage at her mother, studying her closely, searching for a sign that anything was amiss. Catherine Moncure looked typecast for her part as the powerful senior senator from Virginia. Appropriately dressed in her bloodred suit, she shifted her blue eyes from camera to camera, her chin tipped up, her prominent nose raised as if she smelled political opportunity in the air. Mia bet she hadn’t been the only one who’d had a recent appointment at the salon. Her mother’s short nearly black hair looked freshly cut and colored, and much more chic than the mousy dark-brown bob she’d worn years ago. Her image had evolved along with her rise to power in Washington.

Next to her mother sat Richard Dartmouth, best known as the secretary for Health and Human Services, lesser-known as her mother’s longtime companion. Not long before Mia’s dad had died, her mother had an affair with Richard, who reminded Mia of David Letterman but without his sense of humor. At the time, he’d been in his second term as governor of Maryland and had been widowed early in his first term.

Her mother had quickly filed for divorce. Instead of making headlines with nasty gossip, her dad had settled quietly and let her mom go. As inappropriate as it might have been, Mia’s mother had explained the situation in vivid detail to her and Matthew. She’d claimed that similar political views had drawn her and Richard together. As hard as it was for Mia to imagine, her mother told them she and Richard had an irresistible passion that she hadn’t had with their dad. Similar political views and passion had clearly been more important to her than keeping her family together.

Soon after the divorce, Mia’s dad died way too young of a sudden heart attack, leaving Mia and Lila stunned and devastated. Lila had never forgiven Mia’s mother, and probably never would, although they were entangled together through Mia and Matthew. Mia could say the same for herself. Her father had deserved better—and her mother hadn’t.

“Every citizen must do their part to ensure that the One Shot program is successful in preventing our unprecedented flu outbreak from becoming more widespread.” The director of the Centers for Disease Control, a rangy man in his midfifties, stood at the lectern sternly addressing the crowd and the cameras. Mia couldn’t help but think about Pearl and the Haitian people and how they would fare, and about that orphanage full of children who wouldn’t be vaccinated for a while…if ever. “Vaccines have been distributed and arrived today at most health departments, pharmacies, and doctors’ offices, and will be administered free of charge. There are three dose levels, and the syringes are designed so you can easily see that you and your family are getting the proper dose. Syringes with green plungers are for children ages six months to eighteen years, yellow plungers are for people ages nineteen to fifty-four, and red plungers are in our seniors vaccines for anyone fifty-five or older.” He held up an example of each color-coded syringe as he mentioned it. “All this information, along with a vaccine locator tool, can be found on the CDC website. The address is at the bottom of your screen.”

Mia thought about how many times she’d be repeating the same script over the next several weeks—if not months.
Green…yellow…red. Health departments, pharmacies, doctors’ offices.
In the morning, she’d be briefed down to every molecular detail, but her message would be simple and concise when it came to facing the public.
You have One Shot. Get vaccinated.
That one shot was more than most of the Haitian people would get.

Or Brent.

A wave of regret washed over her. If she hadn’t gone to Haiti, would he have shared his suspicions about the vaccine with her? She’d never know if they would’ve worked through the awkwardness of her rejection and continued their friendship.

She aimlessly scanned the crowd in the gray haze beyond the lights and cameras, recognizing her coworker Ellen Sloane, who gave her a sympathetic smile. Mia dipped her head slightly and pressed her lips together, the corners of her mouth turned up ruefully. Ellen might not have understood why Mia left Moncure Therapeutics and fled to Haiti, but she didn’t seem to be judging her for it. Mia relaxed a little.

She shifted her gaze toward the back of the room, and unexpectedly locked eyes with Gio Lorenzo, who stood tall and dark in the aisle that flanked the windows. Her heart surged. Heat pulsed through her, and her skin prickled. Even through the shadows she could see the questions in his eyes. She willed herself to look away, but she was riveted by his smoldering gaze, just as she’d been that unforgettable night months ago.

Mia’s mouth went dry. What had she expected to happen when she saw him again—after all these months of remembering him, of replaying the sensuous scenes of their one life-changing night together? She’d known since then that she couldn’t resist him.

…

The chrome on Gio’s hefty motorcycle had glinted in the light of the full moon. Mia couldn’t have conjured a more thrilling substitute for a cab, or imagined a sexier driver. Under most circumstances, she placed anyone who worked for her mother strictly outside of her atmosphere, knowing such an association wouldn’t turn out well for either of them. Besides, she wasn’t a fan of her mother’s sycophants, and that was a basic job requirement for most anyone who worked for her. But she’d always gotten a different vibe from Gio—as if he was a rare breed of rugged individualist who could immerse himself in his work, but not be brainwashed by it. Somehow he seemed to pull off the delicate balance of being dedicated without being an ass-kisser.

Even though Mia was reasonably tall, Gio towered over her as he stood by the bike holding the half helmet Karl had lent them. Gio’s broad, muscular shoulders blocked the moon from her view, but its light radiated around him as if he were some kind of superhero. Surely plenty of women thought he was, and Mia wouldn’t argue. She pegged him at about six-four, and probably two hundred thirty pounds of what looked like tight muscle. His longish dark hair framed a chiseled jawline that she’d seen clean-shaven and shadowed by stubble as it was tonight. Both looks worked for him—and for her, too.

She tried to blink away her straying thoughts, but she couldn’t help noticing…him. Should she really be checking him out the way she was? She was still dealing with a painful breakup. And what could come of being with Gio, even if he was available and willing? He worked for her mother. Mia would never forget what had happened to that poor staffer who’d been smitten with Matthew.

She was well aware of the risks, but anticipating riding with Gio had Mia stirred up in an uncharacteristic way that she was eager to feel more of. Maybe it was London Grammar’s music that had her going, or the unseasonably warm night lit by a nearly full moon. Maybe it was being out alone, doing something different and exciting.
With someone different…and exciting.

Brent was in good shape—about six feet tall with a slender build—but imagining clinging to Gio’s sturdy, muscular body as they rode the streets of DC made Mia’s heart quicken.

Gio set the helmet on the motorcycle seat. “Remind me to buy Karl a six-pack.” He grinned, and her gaze settled on his perfectly shaped lips.

Women probably love to kiss him, too.
The thought had her sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, the pinch warning her away from thinking like that.

She liked seeing that he had an adventurous side. Despite an endless workload, he’d at least made time to come to the concert. He had a neighbor who was a bouncer at a club, he rode a kick-ass motorcycle, and he had a glimmer in his eyes that told her he was determined to make life interesting.

“Let’s get you ready.” He reached out and swept her hair behind her shoulders, his fingertips gently grazing her neck and sending a shiver of awareness through her. Mia swallowed hard as he grabbed the helmet and placed it on her head. As he adjusted the strap and fastened it, she caught the faint scent of his cologne—something earthy and spicy, totally matching what she would’ve guessed he’d wear. Something totally male.

He stepped away from her and had a look. “Perfect fit.”

“Remind
me
to get Karl a six-pack,” she teased, earning another disarming smile from him.

Gio helped her onto the back of the bike. “Ever ridden before?”

“A Vespa.” She grinned. “But I think I’ll be fine, since you’re driving. The hang-on-for-dear-life thing is instinctual, isn’t it?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, his dark-eyed gaze meeting hers. “We’ll take it slow and easy.”

Her imagination kicked into overdrive, thinking about what slow and easy would be like with him
.
She blinked several times. Where was her head? Her slight beer buzz was no excuse. There was no come-on in his words. The guy was simply being polite, but nearly everything out of his mouth could be taken as an incredibly hot double entendre.

He put on his helmet and asked, “Where to?”

“Wyoming Avenue.”

“Got it.” He swung his leg over the bike and settled in front of her. “Wanna take the long way?”

“Why not?” A shiver of excitement reminded her to button her coat up to the top.

Gio turned the key and the motorcycle rumbled to life. He reached back and took her hand, draping her arm around him, then did the same with the other. “Hang on tight,” he said, loud enough for her to hear him over the engine.

Mia tentatively grabbed two handfuls of his leather jacket, which worked fine as they rolled out of the parking lot and onto the street. But when they started to pick up speed and headed for a curve, she quickly figured out the two-fisted jacket grab wasn’t enough to anchor her to the bike. She clutched him a little tighter around his torso, coming up against nothing but taut muscle, tensing and releasing with the rhythm of the ride. He stopped the bike at a stoplight, rested his hand on her knee, and looked over his shoulder. “Wanna hit Rock Creek Parkway and speed things up some?”

She raised her eyebrows and nodded.

After another couple of blocks, he veered onto the parkway and picked up speed, easing the bike through the graceful wooded hills and valleys of Rock Creek Park. The night air was cold and invigorating, much of it blocked from her by Gio’s sheer size and his broad shoulders. Mia wrapped her arms around him and tucked her hands in his coat pockets. She scooted up close and rested against his back, enticed by the scent of leather, leaning in and out of the curves with him, exhilarated by speed and adventure. Exhilarated by
him
. He felt strong and sturdy in her embrace, raw power emanating from him and the rumbling motorcycle.

At this late hour, they were often alone on the parkway, encountering only an occasional passing car. The surreal thrill of it all swirled through Mia, and her blood tingled. She couldn’t help but wonder what other enticing adventures she’d been missing out on. If any of them were half as exciting as this, she was totally game.

After a good twenty minutes, he pulled onto Wyoming Avenue in Northwest DC. Mia’s quiet, upscale neighborhood practically vibrated with the noise of the motorcycle. She squeezed Gio’s biceps and pointed up the block to the house where she lived, disappointed her time on the bike was nearly up. This beat any cab ride home from the club, for sure.

Gio eased the bike into her driveway, stopped, cut the engine, and set the kickstand. He stood and took off his gloves and helmet, his dark hair wild and tousled. Mia’s stomach fluttered at the sight of him, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. She fussed with the chin strap of her helmet just to have something else to focus on.

“Let me help you with that.” He hung his helmet on the handlebar, hoisted one of his long legs over the bike, and sat facing her.

Gio had been magnetic, even with his back to her. But facing her, he was irresistible. Her insides were a knot of nerves and excitement…and expectation? Was he experiencing the raw chemistry she was feeling? It was an entirely new sensation for Mia, since her emotions and instincts had been pretty predictable, and mostly even-keeled. She’d heard people talk about undeniable attraction, but she hadn’t felt it herself except when she’d been anywhere near Gio. And now she was closer to him than ever before. She’d passed it off as a forbidden fruit kind of thing, but she was beginning to think it was way more than that.