Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) (11 page)

Speech
fails me. He’s given no hint of this whatsoever until now.

“Give
me your phone.”

I
hand it to him, and he enters his number into it and then sends a text to his
phone. After he gives it back to me, he gets out and walks around to my side of
the car. When he assists me out he says, “Call me if you need anything.”

I
stand there like a fool watching him as he drives away.

***

“What’s
up Doc?”

“Oh,
God, help me!” Harper can drive a sane person nutty.

“What?”
she asks.

“Are
you ever going to stop with that?”

“Nope.
You should be used to it by now. What’s going on? How’s it going with
StrongMeds?”

“Awesome!
So,
chica
, I need a favor. I have to go to this work
function and I need a cocktail dress.”

“Yeah,
I got you covered. When do you need it?”

“By
Saturday. Can I stop by this week to pick it up?”

“Sure
thing. Why don’t you come Tuesday after work and then we’ll grab some dinner
afterwards,” Harper suggests.

“Sounds
perfect. I’ll call when I leave the lab. And thanks, Harper. You’re a wardrobe
lifesaver.”

I
end the call and feel guilty as hell for lying to her. But right now, I just don’t
want the Harper interrogation. My brain couldn’t handle it at all. I have to
attend these work things occasionally and she’ll think nothing of this. And I
won’t have to endure her pounding me with question after question. Besides, I
wouldn’t know what to tell her anyway, since she doesn’t know about Ells’ room.
I can see her face now when I’d explain to her that I’ve made a deal with the
man who’s buying my house. In exchange for dating him, I get the chance to
visit my dead daughter’s room. She’d probably send up the guys in white with a
straight jacket and have them haul me off to the state mental hospital in
Columbia, South Carolina. No, it’s better to keep this all to myself. Oh, and
what about Kestrel’s bizarre reaction and the way he left me? I’m not even sure
what the deal is between us now. My head feels like exploding just thinking
about it. My mind is filled with the bits he told me about his father and how
I’d wanted to pull him in my arms and hold him. But I know that wouldn’t have worked.
He probably would’ve flung me out of the car and driven off. What the hell have
I gotten myself into?

Chapter
Eight

Kestrel

When
I back the car out of the driveway, Carter is still standing there watching me.
I know I’ve confused her, but I have to get away from her and the quicker the
better. My reaction to her touch appalls me. She must think I’m the biggest
asshole around, especially after those kind things she said. And seeing her there
makes me feel like a bigger shit than I already am. But right now I’m
practically jumping out of my skin. Christ! My intentions were to ask her to dinner
mid-week so we could be more comfortable around each other at that function on
Saturday. It’s important that I go. It’s necessary to make connections and
she’ll probably know many of the people there. Now when we attend, and that is
if she will even go with me, it will be under less than ideal circumstances.

I
must make it a point to call her during the week and ask her to dinner. That
would help to break the ice for the weekend. Thaw things out a little. She’s
much more pleasant to be around than I ever would’ve imagined. She reminds me
somewhat of Gabby—intelligent with I suspect a witty personality hidden
beneath the layers of sorrow. Too bad she’s had such a tragic life thus far.

My
plans for meeting her crash and burn. I barely have time for bodily functions,
much less to meet her for dinner. Work is ridiculous. I stay at the office
every night until nine or ten o’clock. The new receptionist occupies most of
Shayla’s time, which leaves me buried under a mound of paperwork. Jack from our
Manhattan office arrives on Tuesday, and I feel like I’m a horse at the
Kentucky Derby for the rest of the week. Thursday’s here before I know it and I
haven’t given Carter a thought.

So
on the way home from work that evening, I take a chance and make that call.

“Drayton.”

“Such
formality,” I remark.

“Oh,
sorry. I’m still at work.”

“Busy
week?”

She
sighs. “Yeah. Very.”

“Am
I interrupting?”

“Actually,
yes.”

“I’m
sorry. I’ll call later.”

“No,
let me call you back. I’m just about to wrap up this modulation,” she says.

“Sure.”
I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about.

After
we end the call, I wonder what she actually does. I know she’s some kind of a
doctor. Then I laugh out loud. I’m usually very in-depth about anyone I have
any dealings with. I haven’t done a single background check or search on her.
Why is that? This is highly unusual for me. When I get home, I pour myself a
Lagavulin. Not long after that, my phone buzzes.

“Carter.”

“Hi.
Sorry I had to cut that last call short.”

“Not
a problem. Tell me what you do.”

When
she finishes, I’m stunned. Her tone is so animated, that I’m smiling. I can
feel her excitement about her work. It’s a living thing.

“You’re
brilliant. I have to ask. Are you a Mensa member?” She must be. Her IQ must be
at least 130.

“That’s
a rather silly question, don’t you think?”

“I
don’t ask silly questions, Carter.”

“Yes.”

“I
thought as much. Out of curiosity, what’s your IQ?”

“It’s
okay.”

“Carter.”

“One
fifty-five.”

Holy
fuck! “Hmm. You’re a genius.”

“Not
really.”

“Yes.
An IQ of one fifty-five is definitely genius level. Will you show me sometime?”

“Show
you?”

“Your
work?”

She
pauses. “You mean you’d really like to see it?”

Her
surprise astounds me.

“Of
course. This is amazing stuff. I’d love to. It surprises me that you’re
surprised.”

“No
one ever wants to see it.”

“What
about your friends?”

“Not
at all. I tell them and they listen, but they’ve never asked to see it. Even
Harper’s never asked and she shows the most interest.”

That
makes me wonder about her friends. Not that I’m in a position to judge. I have
none. Try making friends when you’re a kid whose father is a mob king. Doesn’t
work too well. You learn at early age to become a loner.

“So
I have an idea. Why don’t I meet you at your work place tomorrow, and you can
give me a tour? Afterwards, we can grab a bite to eat.”

“You’re
not going to get all goofy on me again, are you?” Hesitation laces her voice.

“I’ll
do my best not to.”

“Okay.”

She
tells me the time and where to meet her.

The
next morning I get to the office early. There’s a lot I need to accomplish and
I promised to meet Carter at five. Kolson calls around four. He tells me how
impressed Jack is with the business prospects and the potential we have going
already.

“Like
I said, we need more manpower.”

“You’re
going to get it. I’ve got some powerhouses hand picked for you. I’ll be down
there next week. Since Jack is staying for the next couple of weeks, I thought
I might as well get this moving.”

“When
are you arriving?”

“Tuesday.
Any chance I can see that gem you put a contract on?”

“I
don’t know. I can check with the owner.”

“Good.
I’ll see you next week then.”

At
four-thirty I walk over to Shayla’s desk and tell her to have a great weekend.
Traffic is terrible so I hope I’m not too late. Parking isn’t bad since I’m
guessing that most of the employees have left for the day.

Carter
is waiting for me in the lobby of the hospital as I arrive. She guides me over
to the research division and we ride the elevator up to the floor where her lab
is located. Security is tight, but it’s expected. I can’t begin to imagine what
they protect in here. She gives me a coat to wear along with some gloves, but
tells me not to touch anything. Then we enter her inner sanctum—the place
where it all happens. There is so much equipment, I feel like I’m in a scene
from CSI. Microscopes dot countertops, along with dozens of computer monitors.
Lab equipment—small square boxy looking things and other large
freestanding machines are everywhere. In the back are cages lining the wall.
They’re filled with mice—dozens of them. I feel like I’m in one of those
pet stores in the mall. It’s all very high-tech and sterile looking. I gaze
around in fascination because of all the places I’ve been and all the things
I’ve seen, I’ve never been anywhere like this before.

“So
this is where all the magic takes place, huh?”

“Well,
I kind of think so.” She does her best to explain everything, but I tell her
it’s all Greek to me. She talks about gene modulation and how she’s trying to
get the cancer cells to change their RNA so they can’t put up roadblocks to the
human immune system.

I
must have the old deer in the headlights look, because she takes my hand and
walks me to one of the microscopes. And it’s not just any microscope. This
thing is at least three feet tall by my estimation.

“Here,
look.” She shows me some things under the viewing lens and I pretend I know
what I’m looking at, but in reality I’m a dumbass.

“Ok,
I give up. What am I looking at?”

She
laughs. “This is the gene modulation sequencing I was working on. You’re
looking at a cancer cell from an oncomouse. I tripped up the RNA.”

“Oh.”
I have no fucking clue what she just said. This girl is fucking brilliant. She
rattles all this scientific shit off like Kolson and I talk about investments.

I
must have a stupid look on my face because she says, “I’ve lost you, haven’t
I?”

“What?
No! I’m simply in awe of your brain. What kind of microscope is this?”

“It’s
an electron microscope. It can do just about everything.”

“I
see.” I really don’t, but she doesn’t have to know that. The damn thing looks
like it can fly. I stand and look at her. That wild hair of hers is all tangled
up and twisted into a funky looking bun that she’s stabbed a couple of pens in.
A few pieces have escaped and she tucks them behind her ears. She shoves her
glasses up her nose and shoots me a lopsided grin. A very unexpected urge to
kiss her nails me. And it nearly derails me. Where did this come from?

“It’s
an amazing piece of equipment. And my brain is okay, I guess.”

“Carter,
how old
are
you?”

“Twenty-six.
Why?”

“And
you have a Ph.D.
In what?
Genetics?”

“Not
exactly. It’s sort of a combined thing. Molecular Biology and Genetic
Engineering.”

“Oh.
I see. Piece of cake degree, I’d imagine.”

She
shrugs. “It was something that piqued my imagination. And when that happens,
I’m balls to the walls. Well, boobs to the walls, since I don’t have balls.”

I
chuckle. “Why the cancer research?”

“When
I was a little kid, there was this boy in my class that died of leukemia. It
stuck with me. I figure kids—it’s not fair for them to die so young. Then
after Ells, I made this promise to her that I would make it my mission. If I
couldn’t save her, I would do my best to save other kids. And hopefully, it
will parlay into all cancers.”

“That’s
very noble.”

The
space between her nose, right above where her glasses rest, creases and she
frowns. “No, I’m not trying to be noble. I’m trying to save lives. End of
story. That’s my mission in life. I’ll die trying, too.”

“All
I can say is you’ve impressed me, Dr. Drayton.”

“Thank
you. And now I’ve been given a huge grant by StrongMeds so maybe I’m closer
than I think.”

“Congratulations.”

“Kestrel,
don’t congratulate me until the cure is here.”

“I’ll
do more than that. We’ll celebrate then.”

We
get ready to leave, and she locks everything up. Now that StrongMeds has an
interest in her work, everything has a price on it. I feel sure this place is
more vulnerable to break-ins and cyber theft.

“Does
it worry you to be alone in here?”

“No,”
she says. “I’ve been working alone for years.”

“But
now, you’re a much more sought after entity. You should take care in here when
you’re alone.”

She
shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. It’s what I’ve always done. The University has
upped the security here since StrongMeds has contracted with us, so I feel very
safe. Besides, this feels more like my home than anywhere else.”

And
I get that. After my father died and I went to work at HTS, I would stay there
until midnight sometimes, losing myself in my work.

“Well,
be aware of your surroundings, nevertheless. You’re a valued commodity now.
Many people would love to get their hands on your research, I’m sure.”

This
part of the building is quiet. Empty. Everyone has gone for the weekend. As we
approach the elevator, Carter stops and says, “Oh shoot. I left my backpack.”
She makes a quick turn and collides into me. My arms go around her to keep her
from falling. All I can see are her ghostly gray eyes and her mouth. There is
only one thing I want, and that is to taste her lips again. I have to know if I
was wrong about them. I need to know if there’s more to Carter than I gave her
credit for last time.

My
mouth inches toward hers and her lids shutter in expectation. She stills as she
waits for me. When I touch her, she sighs. Then I feel her hand on my neck,
pulling me closer. Her lips are soft, pliant, and she opens her mouth in
surprise as she feels my tongue lick them. And when she does, I deepen the
kiss. This is not the girl I kissed the other day. This girl is no cold piece
of marble, but rather a warm, passionate woman that I want to taste more of. And
I do as I walk us up against the wall and thread my fingers into her mass of
tangles.

When
I finally break it off, we’re both panting like fools. She immediately drops her
gaze.

“Don’t,”
I say. “Don’t look away.”

“That
was …”

“Really,
really, nice.” My hand rests on her neck and I slide my thumb back and forth
over her pulse point. It feels like a hummingbird’s wings beneath my thumb.

“I
don’t usually do …”

“I
know. But I had to kiss you. I wanted to back in the lab.”

“You
did?”

“Yes.
When you were talking about your work.”

She
presses her lips together then says, “I’m not very good at this.”

“I
disagree.” And I kiss her again. And this time, I’m aggressive. My tongue sweeps
her mouth and discovers every secret it holds. And then it entwines with hers until
she’s breathless. Her hand grips my shoulder, sinking into my muscles as if she
doesn’t want to let go. When we stop, her lips are flushed, along with the skin
on her cheeks and neck. It makes me want to kiss her again and again.