Navy SEAL Noel. Liz Johnson
stance of the figure at his side practically made the smaller man disappear into the other’s shadow.
Will stood there with all the presence of a sea monkey.
Jess clenched her jaw to keep her mouth from falling open. This man, this fragment of a figure, was not the same one who had broken into her room the night before. He looked beaten. He’d been bested.
Whatever they’d done to him...
Her imagination shot to the worst possible scenario. If they’d found him sneaking back into his room, they wouldn’t have gently escorted him out of the compound. They’d have used their fists and feet or worse to make him do whatever they wanted.
The night before, he’d been so strong, had filled her room with such power.
He’d looked the part of a SEAL.
But not now.
It took everything inside her not to run to him, wrap her arm around his slumped shoulders and ask if he was seriously injured.
And then he caught her gaze with his own. And he winked.
She sucked in a quick breath, the air catching in her throat, tearing a cough from somewhere deep in her chest.
He was playing a part. The part. She should have realized that the cartel wouldn’t have believed the man in her room the night before was a scientist. That man was a battle-tested, steely-eyed warrior. And he had nothing in common with the figure standing before her now.
Straightening her shoulders, she blinked away the rush of relief, focusing hard on the boiling salt water on the burner.
Will’s guard shoved him hard, and he stumbled— convincingly—into the corner of the table. His grunt echoed and was only drowned out by the yell of Manuel’s partner in crime. Spanish words poured from his mouth faster than she could understand them, but he jabbed the barrel of his gun in her direction.
Stomach turning to steel, she was suddenly unable to move as the round end of the weapon filled her field of vision. She heard Will’s shuffling feet move in her direction until she was suddenly staring at his back. He held up appeasing hands and nodded slowly. “Sí,” he mumbled, his voice sounding pained and unfamiliar. “Whatever you say. Yes. Sí.”
Why was his Spanish so awkward? It didn’t make any sense. She knew that he spoke Spanish fluently. He and Sal both had learned from their mother’s mother—their abuelita—who had lived with the family for years.
The guard grumbled something else, and Will just kept nodding and agreeing in a jumbled mix of Spanish and English words until the other man marched toward the door, his footfalls ringing into every corner of the cement bunker.
Will turned his back to their guards. He offered her a flash of a smile and mouthed, Okay?
She gave a quick nod of her head.
“They want us to work together.” His voice was barely audible, and she leaned into him, resting her hand on his forearm, to catch the words. “Your guy is mad about what they’re having for lunch, so he’s going to leave early to try to sneak some leftovers from the cook.”
Suddenly she realized what was going on. Will’s awkwardness with the language was entirely an act. It was all for show, so he could listen in on what the guards were saying without them realizing he understood every word.
It was a smart tactic. But like everything else that had happened since his arrival the previous day, it threw her for a loop.
Her pulse kicked into high gear. She was supposed to pretend she didn’t know him. She had to act as if she’d never seen him before. She needed everyone else in the compound to believe that Will Gumble hadn’t been the only person keeping her sane when her father had deployed, for the millionth time, during her sophomore year, and she’d been left again with her great-aunt.
That was the same year they’d both been in the high school drama team’s production of My Fair Lady. Maybe Will didn’t remember that she’d been dropped from the program for missing cues and flubbing lines.
She couldn’t do this. She was going to mess it up and get them both killed.
Sweat peppered her palms, and she wiped them against her pants beneath the canvas chemistry apron.
“It’s all right.”
Will’s face was so calm, his smile so easy, she could almost believe they weren’t in any real danger. Until she glanced past him toward the two men standing watch at the door. “How can you say that?”
“Because we’re in this together.”
She jumped at the implied camaraderie. Deep in her heart, she wanted to believe him, but it wasn’t quite that easy. They’d been together when her father, then a commander, had deployed. They’d been together the summer she’d spent praying her mother would come back. They’d been together when her great-aunt had taken a nasty fall and broken her hip. But when Sal offered her a promise ring, Will had flat-out disappeared. Ten years of silence, and she was supposed to trust him again?
She glanced toward the door as Manuel’s voice grew animated and he gestured wildly to his friend, their attention clearly not on their charges. Manuel was probably still thinking about his lunch.
Whether he could read the doubt on her face or sense the tension in her shaking fists, Will’s smile dipped. “Why don’t you give me a tour of the lab? What are you working on?” He inclined his head toward her beaker, sounding sincerely interested.
“Boiling some water.” Oh, why had she said that? What if the guards overheard? Her chest tightened, a hiccup popping out before she could stop it. When her stomach pinched in nervous knots, she always ended up with the hiccups. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that the hiccups would stop.
Will took a step, drawing close enough that his heat tickled her arms, and she let out another hiccup.
He was not helping the situation.
“Aye! Work!” Manuel yelled, his gun pointing toward the ceiling above their heads. He spit out a string of Spanish before jerking his head back to his friend.
Will nodded toward the black supply cabinet in the rear of the room. “Maybe you should show me around.”
* * *
Will peered over Jess’s shoulder into the dim confines of the locker along the back wall. Rows of glass beakers, plastic tubing and other basic chemistry items lined the shelves. But even he could tell the lab as a whole was ill equipped to handle the kind of science that Jess had been doing back in San Diego. It was probably more accustomed to housing meth mixers than biological weapons.
A refrigerated locker sat on the counter right next to the cupboard. Its sides were stainless steel, but the door on top was made of a clear Plexiglas. And a three-inch padlock kept the curious from opening it.
“That’s it.” She pointed toward the top of the fridge and a small black cube inside that boasted a yellow biohazard sticker. The lid was locked in place with four clamps, maintaining the airtight seal. The whole thing wasn’t much bigger than his fist, but the way she gave it a wide berth suggested its size didn’t have a direct correlation to its power.
“That’s the toxin?”
“Morsyni.” Her tone carried no small amount of reverence and a slight quiver of fear.
He caught her gaze and held it, dropping his voice low. “What is it? What exactly can it do?”
The muscles at her throat constricted as a flicker passed through her eyes. “What’s in that case is enough to kill every person in San Diego and the rest of California. And we’re not talking about an easy death.”
As his stomach clenched, he shot a look at the guards to make sure they were still ignoring them. “How bad?”
“You’ve heard of