Deadly Desire. Katherine Garbera

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      “What happened?” he asked. He went to the coffeepot on the desk in the room and poured himself a cup.

      Jane focused on her luggage and not on Mac. “Some guy attacked me in the hall outside my room.”

      He put his cup down and crossed the room to her. He put one hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

      “Yes. I got away with just a bruise.” She stepped away from him and went to the two large camping backpacks she’d brought with her.

      Mac moved next to her, taking one of the packs. “Do you know why he attacked you? Did he follow you upstairs?”

      She shrugged, not wanting to remember any of what had happened yesterday. But she couldn’t forget the menace in the man’s eyes as he’d aimed that gun at her.

      “No, he was in the hallway when I got off the elevator,” she said at last. “I think we should load our clothes in the bottom and use them for extra cushioning for the vials.”

      “Okay. Was he targeting you?” Mac asked.

      “The hotel security manager mentioned they’ve had a few small problems with thieves targeting lone female tourists over the last few weeks. So, no, I don’t think it had anything to do with me personally.”

      He nodded. “Okay. What kind of vials do you have in here? Dry-ice packed, or did you dehydrate?”

      “Dry ice. The Yura virus has already infected a portion of the tribe—I’m not sure how many—so I brought a treatment that worked in the lab.”

      “Have you tested it on any subjects?”

      “No. There wasn’t time. As I may have mentioned, my boss wanted the research stopped and me moved to something else.”

      “What are you planning to do?”

      “The treatment is only good for seven days. We’ve got six left. According to my research it shouldn’t take more than four to reach the Yura. I think my dad will volunteer to be a test subject. In the lab we started seeing results within two hours.”

      “What about those not already infected?”

      “Luckily the Yura virus is very close to Lassa fever. So I was able to manipulate a strand of the vaccine we have for that. As I said, it should be effective at preventing the rest of the tribe from contracting the virus.”

      “Sounds like you’ve covered all the bases.”

      The cab ride to the airport had been short but once they arrived they had nothing but hiccups. The guide she’d hired had left a message that he would be waiting in Puerto Maldonado. The pilot, Bob Jones, ran thirty minutes late and a government official almost refused to let them leave the private airport.

      He’d double-checked all of her papers. Finally Mac had stepped in and called a contact he had in the government, and they’d been cleared to leave.

      “Thanks,” she said when they were finally standing on the tarmac next to the plane for their flight to Puerto Maldonado.

      “No problem. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t have much to do.” He took one of the backpacks and hefted it into the cargo area.

      “Why?” she asked, watching his muscles bunch and flex as he moved. He was very different from Tom, who spent more time in the lab than he did either eating or working out. She was pretty sure she could bench-press more than Tom, but that Mac could probably bench-press her. She didn’t like it. She was used to being the strong one. It didn’t matter—this wasn’t a competition, she told herself. But when Mac reached for her pack, she pulled it out of his way and lifted it into the back without his help.

      “Asks the ultraefficient, no-room-for-mistakes woman,” he said, with a wry grin.

      “Are you teasing me?” she asked. Few people did, apart from Sophia. She seemed too serious for anyone joking with her. But Mac, whom she couldn’t get a handle on, seemed to see past her serious-scientist outer layer to the woman beneath.

      “What do you think?” he countered.

      She thought he was too cocky and too perceptive for his own good. But instead she said, “That we should get on the plane before something else goes wrong.”

      “I agree. Who did you book the boat through in Puerto Maldonado?”

      “A local tour company. They wanted us to stay overnight in one of the river camps but we don’t have time. I want to get on the La Torre as soon as possible. That’s why we’re parachuting in. We’ll take that upriver to the Madre.”

      “Janey! I haven’t seen you in years,” Bob said as he approached them. He gave her a hug.

      “Hi, Bob. Thanks for squeezing us in,” Jane said.

      “No prob. Why has it taken you so long to come and visit your dad?”

      “Work. You know how that is. You work all the time, too.”

      “Yeah, but I’m a crusty old dude, you’re not.”

      “Kind of you to notice,” she said.

      “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, then climbed on board.

      “Me, too,” Jane said quietly. She picked up her duffel bag and climbed in the seat right behind Bob. Mac sat behind her. A few minutes later they were in the air. The flight would take a couple of hours.

      Jane liked the view from the air. The lush greenery of the Andes rose out of the low desert landscape that had surrounded them in Lima. Mac sat quietly behind her in the plane.

      When the jungle finally appeared underneath them, Jane took out her GPS unit to see where they were. She determined they were less than forty-five miles from Puerto Maldonado. Almost there. She glanced over her shoulder at Mac. He was reading a copy of the New England Journal of Medicine.

      She wondered what had brought this man to start Rebel Virology. He hadn’t been fired after that incident in Southeast Asia. All her life she’d studied behavior patterns, usually inside the small biosphere that was her lab. But she was enough of her anthropologist mother’s daughter to want to know why people behaved the way they did.

      Especially when she was in a situation that she wasn’t certain she could control. As she was this time.

      It was a big task, probably the biggest she’d ever taken on, but she felt ready for it.

      The plane lurched. Damn. Jane gripped the armrests as Bob battled with the air to get them evened out again.

      “Just an air pocket,” Bob said between his teeth, his concentration on flying the plane.

      The plane dipped sharply. Mac sat up in the seat behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder. The plane was tossed about a bit more. Jane braced herself against the seat fuselage. Bob started cussing.

      “Are we in trouble?” she yelled to Bob. He was struggling with the stick and watching the gauges. Jane waited, knowing he’d respond when he could.

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