Under Fire. Carol Ericson

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      Whatever magic ingredient the little blue pill contained seemed to work. She peered at the remaining pills in the tin and sniffed them. Maybe he was a drug addict. Hallucinogens could bring on the paranoid thoughts.

      His eyes flew open and he struggled to sit up.

      “Whoa.” Her arms slipped around his shoulders. “You just had a very scary incident. You need to lie back and relax.”

      “It passes quickly. I’m fine.” He shrugged off her arm and sat up, leaning his back against the credenza. He chugged the rest of the water.

      “Are you okay? I almost called 911.”

      “Don’t—” he cinched her wrist with his thumb and middle finger “—ever call the police.”

      Her heart skipped a beat. She should’ve run when she had the chance.

      His deep brown eyes widened and grew even darker. He dropped her wrist. “I’m sorry. I scared you.”

      She scooted away and rested her back against the bed, facing him. “And I’m sorry you’re going through all this, but there’s nothing I can do to help you. You need to see a doctor, and I—I’ll go to my family and contact the CIA about what happened at the lab.”

      “You are a doctor.” His eyes glittered through slits.

      “Not exactly, and you know what I mean. You need to go to a doctor’s office, get checked out.”

      “You mean a psychiatrist, don’t you?”

      “I mean...”

      “You don’t believe me. You’re afraid of me. You think I’m crazy.” He laughed, a harsh, stark sound with no humor in it.

      “It’s a crazy story, Max. My lab was just shot up and two men tried to kill me—or you.”

      “Both of us.”

      “Okay, maybe both of us, but I don’t belong in the middle of all this.”

      “You’re right.” He rose from the floor, looking as strong and capable as ever. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll take you to the airport tomorrow.”

      “And you?”

      “I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing.”

      “Which is?”

      “You don’t belong in the middle of this, remember?” He tossed the pillow she’d tucked beneath him onto the bed and took a deep breath, the air in his lungs expanding his broad chest, his black T-shirt stretching across his muscles. “Would you like to take a shower? I need to take one, but you can go first.”

      “I would, but I can wait.”

      Still sitting on the floor, she’d stretched her legs in front of her.

      Max stepped over her outstretched legs on the way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

      Blowing out a long breath, Ava got to her feet and grabbed her purse. She could get a taxi to the airport before he even got out of the shower.

      * * *

      MAX BRACED HIS hands against the tile of the shower and dipped his head, as the warm water beat between his shoulder blades.

      She’d be gone by the time he came out of the shower. And why shouldn’t she be? She thought he was crazy. She didn’t trust him. And she was right not to.

      If she stayed, if she believed him, she could probably help him. She didn’t seem to know about the pills, but she’d worked with Arnoff. She might know something about those blue pills that stood between him and a complete meltdown like Simon.

      He’d warned Simon to keep taking the pills, but his buddy was stubborn. He’d wanted nothing more to do with Tempest and its control over their lives.

      Max faced the spray and sluiced the water through his hair. Maybe he’d made a mistake showing his hand to Tempest. As soon as he’d refused his last assignment, Foster had suspected he’d figured everything out—not everything. He and Simon hadn’t realized quitting the serum would have such a profound effect on their bodies and minds.

      He cranked off the water and grabbed a towel. At least he’d been able to save Dr. Whitman—Ava—from Simon. Stupid, stubborn bastard. Who was going to tell Simon’s fiancée, Nina?

      He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. A few hours’ sleep would do him good, and then he’d reassess. He could contact Prospero, but he didn’t know whom he could trust at this point. He didn’t blame Ava one bit for hightailing it out of here.

      He pushed open the bathroom door and stopped short.

      Ava looked up from examining something in the palm of her hand. Her gaze scanned his body, and he made a grab for the towel slipping down his hips.

      “You’re still here.”

      “Did you expect me to take off?”

      He pointedly stared at the purse hanging over her shoulder. “Yeah.”

      She held out her hand, his precious pills cupped in her palm. “What are these? They have a distinctive odor.”

      “They should.” He adjusted the towel again and glanced over his shoulder at his clothes scattered across the bathroom floor. He couldn’t risk leaving her alone with those pills another minute. She might just get it in her head to run with them. She probably thought he was a junkie.

      Her body stiffened and she closed her hand around the blue beauties. “Why would you say that?”

      “They’re a milder form of the serum you inject in us four times a year.” He cocked his head. “You really don’t know that?”

      The color drained from her face, emphasizing her large eyes, which widened. “Why would you be taking additional doses of the serum?”

      “Weaker doses. To keep up. To be better, faster, stronger, smarter. Isn’t that what the serum is all about?”

      “Did you know what they were when you started taking them?”

      “By the time the pills were introduced into our regimen, we didn’t care what they were for. We needed them.”

      “They’re addictive?” She swept the breath-mint tin from the credenza and funneled the pills into it from her cupped hand.

      Max released the breath he’d been holding. “More than you could possibly know.”

      “Then tell me, Max. I deserve to know everything. I stayed.” She shrugged the purse from her shoulder and tossed it onto the bed. “One little part of me believed your story. There was enough subterfuge in that lab to make me believe your wild accusations.”

      “Can I put my pants on first?” He hooked his fingers around the edge of the towel circling his hips.

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