Coulter awoke with a start. He lay against the pillows while he assessed how he felt. Getting up gingerly, he took his time walking down the hall to the bathroom. Poking his head into Marena’s bedroom, he was surprised that she wasn’t there.
Going downstairs, he found her at the dining room table, slumped over her laptop. Her head was resting on her arms with her hair draped over the keyboard. He sat down in the closest chair and observed her for a moment. He swept her hair out of her face.
Her eyelids fluttered open. She blinked a few times and glanced around.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine. I needed to get up anyway.”
“How’s the research going?”
Marena sat back in her chair. She couldn’t hide the frustration in her expression.
“From the look on your face, I’d say the prognosis isn’t too good.”
“I have four days left.”
Marena didn’t tell him this, but just thinking the words caused her heart to ache. Setting the laptop aside, Marena rubbed a hand over her eyes. Yawning, she wearily glanced down at her watch and groaned when she saw the time.
“How long have you been at this?”
“The entire time you were asleep.”
Coulter glanced at his watch. “I didn’t know I was out that long.”
“I pored over the data after downloading all the notes and files I had on Advanced Synthetic Patient Renewal. All the team’s research was turned over to Beecham upon my resignation—except A.S.P.R. Now I have everything needed to duplicate the serum.”
“That’s good news.”
“Yeah, but the problem is figuring out if giving the drug to you while Silent Night is coursing through your veins would help or harm you. The serum wasn’t designed to counteract a biotoxin, Coulter. I created A.S.P.R. to heal wounded soldiers in record time from gunshot wounds, internal injuries, cuts, burns, and minor illnesses. If we’re not careful, I could just as quickly kill you.”
“I’m dead anyway, so what’s the harm in trying?”
Frowning, she stretched her exhausted muscles. “That’s not funny.”
Coulter smirked. “Maybe not, but it’s true.”
“What are you doing out of bed, anyway? You should be resting.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
She observed him for a moment. There were a few more lines etched into his face and under his eyes, and if possible, his build was more muscular. But other than that, he was how she remembered. Clearing her throat, Marena leaned over and felt his forehead. “Temperature’s down.”
“For the moment,” Coulter agreed, “but I’m sure it won’t last. Fluctuating body temperature seems to be one of the side effects. The body’s protection mechanism, I guess.”
“Your immune system is trying to fight off the poison.” Marena grabbed her laptop and started typing. “What other symptoms have you noticed?”
Coulter shrugged. “Not much, just the fever, loss of strength, appetite, and severe headaches. They vary. Oh, and nausea, too.”
“How long do the headaches last?”
“It depends. Some are a few minutes, but others last for hours.”
“What about mental clarity?”
“So far, so good, but that will change. As time ticks by, I’ll develop impaired motor skills and body strength and degradation of mental faculties.”
She made more notes. “Is this based on observation?”
“No. I read through some of the data on Silent Night.”
Marena rested her elbows on her thighs before closing her eyes. “I have to find out what’s in it. I don’t want to risk giving you A.S.P.R. while it’s still in your system. I don’t know what that will do to you. We don’t have time for me to make both, and I can’t reverse engineer an antidote until I know for sure what we’re dealing with.”
She felt Coulter’s hand on her shoulder.
“I know you’ll figure this out, Rena.”
She opened her eyes and glanced at him. “We can’t afford for me to be stumbling around in the dark. Being wrong isn’t a luxury we can afford.”
“I’m off the grid, so I don’t have the resources I normally would, but I was able to use other means to find out more about Brinkley and Silent Night. I also checked in with Liam,” Coulter added. “He’s still trying to find out what happened to the rest of my team. If they made it out alive, and if any of them were injected, too. I have the codes that Brinkley needs to activate the formula for Silent Night for the winning bidder.”
“You do? Where?”
“On a secure server. If something happens to me, he’d never get his hands on those codes and sell it as planned.”
“Why not?”
“Because Beecham put in a fail-safe. Those codes on that drive are the initiation key to activating each vial of toxin. If any code is wrong or missing, the sequence won’t work, and Silent Night would remain inactive.”
“But why can’t someone at Beecham just create new codes?”
“I don’t know, but I know that someone stole the formula and the codes from the pharma company. I doubt they’d be eager to recreate the codes, especially when they’re trying to downplay having created them in the first place. So, no, whoever stole it knew what they were doing. They anticipated that Beecham would try to distance themselves from it once it came to light. That would ensure its value and that they had a one-of-a-kind bioweapon that they could sell to the highest bidder.”
“I still don’t understand how Brinkley got involved in all of this or why. It doesn’t make sense that he’d willingly betray his country. He’s a lot of things, but I never pegged him for a traitor.”
“There has to be a pretty substantial motivator for him to be taking such an enormous risk. If he’s caught, he’s going down in a rather public way.”
“Which makes him dangerous if he’s cornered because he may see it as he’s got nothing to lose.”
“Where were you when all this went down?”
“Colombia.”
“How did you escape?”
Coulter stared at the wall. “I passed out for a while after I was injected. When I came to, my team was gone, and I was in the back of a van about to be buried alive.”
Marena blanched. “What?”
“It was okay,” he assured her after seeing her expression. “The men in the front seat were lax and didn’t tie me up—their mistake. It didn’t take long to disarm them and confiscate their truck. Liam helped me get back to the states. I covered my tracks as I went. Eighteen hours later, I landed on your doorstep.”
“How did you find me?”
Coulter hesitated. “I called in a favor and got your forwarding address.”
She made a face. “Ringing the doorbell would have sufficed.”
“Not much for doorbells,” he joked.
“I seem to remember that about you. If I recall, you took great pleasure in finding ways to break into my house undetected.”
Coulter grinned. “I’m slipping.” His boyish smile warmed her in places she decided long ago it wasn’t safe to acknowledge.
“Besides, back then, I wanted to impress you. Any man can use the front door.”
Coulter had never, ever been any man. “That’s true,” Marena agreed. Without warning, her stomach growled. Her hand instantly covered her middle. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
His smile faded. “When was the last time you ate something?” He perused her face. “Or slept, for that matter? I mean solid sleep, not a catnap.”
“I had an energy bar a few hours ago. As for solid sleep—before you showed up on my doorstep.”
“Okay, we’re going to get you something to eat, and then you should try and get some sleep.”
Marena opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with his finger across her lips. “No buts. You are exhausted, Rena. It’s time to recharge.”
“Look who’s talking. You’ve been through more of a ringer than I have. Come on, I’ll rustle up some lunch,” Marena drawled.
Marena decided on turkey and Swiss on rye for her and chicken noodle soup for Coulter. She figured it would be better for him to eat light and not upset his stomach, but he had other plans. He ate the chicken noodle soup and then fixed himself two turkey sandwiches loaded with all the trimmings. Marena occasionally watched him inhale the food while she tidied up.
“I think I’ll place a five-gallon bucket by your bedside. Just in case that meal decides not to stay put.”
“No need,” he assured her. “I’m good.”
“You should try and get some sleep, Coulter.”
“So should you,” he countered. “I’ve placed a call, and I’m waiting to hear back. Until I do, there’s not much we can do but wait.”
“That’s dangerous for you,” Marena retorted.
“Yes, but I trust my contact with my life. I’m confident he’ll find out what we need to know.”
Marena looked skeptical.
“Trust me,” he replied. “We’ll get what we need.”
“I hope you’re right. In the meantime, I’d like to recheck your vitals before I take a nap.”
Back upstairs, Marena examined Coulter and was happy to see his temperature was still less than one hundred degrees, but his heart rate and blood pressure were still elevated. Still, he was no longer dehydrated, and that gray pallor had faded. She left him reading and went to her room. Out of habit, she was about to close the door, then she stopped. She needed to be able to hear Coulter if he called out. Marena kicked off the canvas tennis shoes she was wearing before easing under the covers. Thankfully, she’d purchased blackout curtains a few months ago. Her room was dark and cool, and the sleigh bed welcomed her into its embrace like an old friend.
Closing her eyes, Marena listened to her breathing for a while, willing herself to relax.
“I have no clue what tomorrow will bring,” she said aloud. “But I pray it isn’t another setback.” After a few rounds of breaths, Marena drifted into a deep, exhausted slumber.
Coulter bolted upright in bed. Something was wrong.
Kicking off the covers, he swung his legs over the side. His head pounded, and his mouth was as arid as the Sonoran Desert, but that didn’t matter. He glanced around the bedroom. His practiced eye missed nothing. His cell phone chirped twice and then vibrated. He scanned the text message and then reread it. Without making a sound, Coulter bounded off the bed and retrieved his gun from the rucksack he’d placed under the bed. He checked the gun’s magazine clip before advancing toward the door.
Coulter crept toward Marena’s room, slipped in, and went straight to the bed. Seeing that she was still asleep, he knelt beside it.
“Rena, we’re in trouble,” he whispered into her ear.
Marena’s eyes popped open, but she remained still.
“We’ve got about two minutes before we have company. We have to go.”
By the time he had finished speaking, she was off the bed and in motion. Marena threw on a pair of jeans over pajama shorts and a T-shirt over her camisole before slipping on sneakers. Next, she threw clothes and toiletries in a backpack.
“What can I do?”
Marena secured her gun and ammo to her gun belt and tossed a backpack to Coulter. “Take as many medical supplies as you can,” she called over her shoulder before bolting out the door.
Coulter slung one bag over his shoulder before helping Marena downstairs with the rest of their gear. He took the lead, with Marena following close behind. They were walking through the living room on the way to the back door of the kitchen when a man grabbed Coulter and shoved him against a wall. The parcels he was carrying scattered to the ground.
Coulter recovered and grabbed the man’s arm as he advanced. He flipped his attacker over and onto the floor before following up with a blow to the jaw.
Not waiting to see if the man was conscious or not, he grabbed Marena’s hand and rushed toward the kitchen. Suddenly, a man came up behind Marena and yanked her away from Coulter. His arm snaked around her neck, holding her securely.
“That’s far enough,” he warned. “I don’t want to hurt her, but you know by now that I will.”
Coulter’s eyes narrowed at the man’s familiar distinction. “Why are you here? Did Brinkley send you? Are you working for Ghost Town Security? He’s a traitor and won’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves. You know that, don’t you?”
The intruder drew Marena closer to him. “Don’t bother negotiating with me.”
Coulter eased forward. “Let her go, and you walk out of here.”
“No can do. We’re taking a ride.” He glared at Coulter. “All of us.”
Marena glanced at Coulter. He saw her take a deep breath and go rigid. Then, staring at her intently, Coulter shook his head slightly. When he saw her relax, he turned his focus back to her captor.