Chapter Eleven
At the front door of the lab, Claire said a heartfelt goodbye and thank you to Toby Yevgeny. The man had been a mentor to her at the start of her career and she’d known he’d keep her secrets for her. She’d been reluctant to get him involved at first, knowing it’d put him in danger, but she’d needed help, and he’d always had all the answers while she was in med school. Once he’d heard her predicament, he’d refused to let her walk away without help.
She had Akeso.
And now she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had a target on her back. The little hairs on her neck and arms stood at attention. She’d been very careful to make sure she wasn’t followed here, but she swore she felt eyes on her, tracking her every move.
She hurried down the alley between the lab and the apartment complex next door. She had a cab waiting one street over, but even so, she was cutting it close. Dayo would be back at the local MSF facility in less than a half hour, expecting her to be there.
A man with a leering yellow smile catcalled from one of the first-floor apartments. She picked up her pace and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. It was full of all the research she and Tiffany had done before Tiffany’s death and the strap dug in painfully.
She should have told Dayo where she was going. Better yet, she should have let him come with her. He was a big guy. If nothing else, he’d deter the catcalls.
Up ahead, a man stepped out of the shadowed alcove of the apartment building and blocked her path. At first she thought he was just another catcaller, but he wasn’t a local. Olive skinned with curly dark hair that was too long and unkempt, he looked a bit wild. His dark brown eyes focused on her with an intensity that was beyond startling. Definitely not someone she wanted to run into in a dark alleyway back home, not to mention one in the middle of Lagos, Nigeria.
Oh, God. What if he was with Defion?
Her heart kicked and she stopped in her tracks, then took a step backward as he continued to approach. She risked a glance behind her. Would she be able to run fast enough with the heavy bag to get back to the safety of Toby’s locked lab? She certainly couldn’t leave the bag behind.
She could use it as a weapon, though. It was heavy enough to knock out even a muscular man like him. But that would require he get close enough that she could swing it at his head, which was something she wanted to avoid.
“Dr. Claire Oliver?” he asked. His voice gave no hint of his intentions.
She continued backing away. “Do I know you?”
“No.” As if realizing he’d frightened her, he stopped several feet away and raised his hands, palms out. “But you know a friend of mine. Jean-Luc Cavalier. You met him at the Trinity Sands Resort in Martinique.”
Some of the tension eased out of her spine, but she wasn’t completely ready to trust this man yet. Just about anyone could find out that information if they wanted to. “Tell me something about him only his friend would know.”
His brows arched in surprise, then after a moment, he nodded. “He has two younger sisters and a brother. Marielle, Etienne, and Roseline. He was raised by his grandmother, who died earlier this year, and he’s been off-kilter ever since.”
“Anyone can find that out with an internet search.”
Another lift of the brows. “Okay. He thinks a voodoo priestess cursed him with celibacy on Mardi Gras.”
Now it was her turn to be surprised. “He does?”
The man smirked. “Didn’t tell you that, did he? Yeah, he wouldn’t have. You got to him like no other woman ever has.”
Her cheeks heated up. “I did?”
“He chased you to Nigeria.” He waved a hand at the bustling city around them. “What do you think?”
And now he was dying. Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of the bag on her shoulder seemed to increase. She didn’t have time to stand here quizzing this guy. She had to get back. “What’s your name?”
“Marcus Deangelo.”
She nodded. She’d suspected as much. “He’s been looking for you.”
“You too, Claire.”
She hurried toward him. “We need to go right now. He needs us.”
As she passed, he fell into step beside her. “Where is he?”
“He’s sick.”
He caught her hand and pulled her to a stop. “What?”
She met his gaze. “He’s infected with an unknown hemorrhagic virus. I’m trying to save him.”
“Jesus Christ.” He took the bag off her shoulder. “Let’s move.”
…
“Let me take the shot.”
Mercedes placed her hand on Sebastian’s rifle and pushed it toward the floor. He’d come racing back to her apartment with the weapon ready to go. “No. You kill him now, I’ll lose Dr. Oliver.”
“If I don’t kill him now…” He trailed off at the look on her face. “I want out, Mercy. Killing Deangelo, finishing my mission, gives me a clean break.”
This again. He had to know deep in his heart that wasn’t true. “If you care anything about me, you won’t take that shot—”
“Don’t do that.”
“You want to get away? Well, I want to live and capturing Dr. Oliver is my only chance to keep breathing. I don’t want to end up like Briggs!”
In a rare moment of tenderness, Seb raised his callused hand and cupped her cheek. “I don’t want that either.”
“Then let’s work together. We’ve always made a good team. Please, Seb.”
After a tense moment, he backed away from the window and lowered the rifle. “They’re on the move. Whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it now.”
She grabbed her go bag and headed for the door. “We get close enough to bug them with a tracker. Then once I know where Dr. Oliver is holed up, you can have your shot at Deangelo.”
…
Dayo waited next to their rental van, arms crossed over his large chest, a frown dragging down the corners of his lips. He pushed away from the vehicle when he spotted Claire on the busy street.
He was pissed. She couldn’t blame him. He’d taken on the role of her protector and she’d ducked away the first chance she’d had.
“Where were you?” His eyes narrowed in on Marcus. “And who is that?”
She decided to answer the second question because it was easier. “A friend.”
Marcus seemed just as skeptical as Dayo was of him. “Who are you?”
Claire huffed. “Also a friend.” She held out her hands to keep them apart, half afraid they’d start a brawl right here on the street if they got too close to each other. “Guys, can we save the dick measuring contest? We don’t have time. We—”
A skinny teenager smacked into her from behind and she very nearly went sprawling onto the potholed road. Both Dayo and Marcus jumped forward to catch her before she fell flat on her face. She couldn’t say why, but their actions annoyed her. She could take care of herself, dammit. She’d made it this long without bodyguards, and had done just fine for herself.
She pushed them both away and straightened, checking her pockets. She’d had about ten thousand naira, the equivalent of about twenty-eight U.S. dollars, folded up in her side pocket, but the bills were gone. Figures. She searched for the little thief, but he was long gone.
Didn’t matter. She turned back to the guys. “We have to go.”
Dayo stepped back to block the door of the van. “We don’t know him. He’s not going back with us.”
She looked at him, silently pleading. They were wasting time. Every second they stood here arguing was a second closer Jean-Luc slipped toward death.
After a hesitant moment, Dayo stepped aside. “I don’t like this.”
She touched his hand as she climbed into the seat. “Please, trust me.”
…
Mercedes peeled off the equivalent of twenty U.S. dollars and handed it over to the kid, who grinned up at her with yellow teeth. She had no doubt he’d also pick-pocketed Dr. Oliver while planting the bug, but that was okay. The street kid would be eating well for the next week on this one job. In fact, she kind of wanted to give him more. She’d been in his position once, and knew what real hunger felt like.
Ah, what the hell. Not like it was going to break her. She gave him what amounted to another twenty and his eyes rounded in shock. He’d likely never had so much money in his life.
“You use this well,” she told him. “Get yourself food, shoes.”
Tears sparkled in his eyes. “I will, I will. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
She jerked her chin, afraid she’d tear up if he continued thanking her. “Go on. Get outta here.”
She walked a block to where Seb waited in his car. He smiled as she slid into the passenger seat. “You’re a softie, Merce.”
When she glared at him, his grin only spread. “Not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He’d been dropping the L-bomb a lot lately and she was never sure what to say in response. He seemed pretty sure the thing they had was love, but how was she supposed to know?
Before Sebastian, the only thing she’d ever had resembling a loving relationship was with Defion and Harrison Stead, but that was always with the caveat that she do as she was told and always return successful from a mission. She suspected that’s not how love, fatherly or otherwise, was supposed to work. Of course she’d heard the love songs, watched the rom coms, read the books and poems, and in them love was always given freely, without qualifications or restrictions, but she couldn’t help but see that as fantasy and nothing more. It made her wonder what Seb wanted from her besides sex.
She cleared her throat. “Are we good to go?”
Seb opened his mouth to say something, but then just shook his head and hit a few keys on the computer sitting on the dashboard between them. A map popped up with a blinking red beacon. “We have her,” he said and handed the laptop to her before shifting the car into gear.
Mercedes stared at the map, watched the beacon move toward the airport. Love or not, she’d never failed a mission for Harrison, and she wasn’t about to start now.
I’m coming for you, Dr. Oliver. There’s no place to hide now.