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A sad sigh passed his lips. “Yeah. Anyway, enough of me. Time to let me in on why you’re such a hot commodity. Other than the obvious.” He smiled.
“That’s an awful line.”
“Awful circumstances.”
She rolled her eyes, but her trembling hands had stilled, and her heart had slowed to normal. “I was the lead on a project that, in very basic terms, could weaponize the common cold. Something very easy to manipulate and virtually impossible to track. I was testing variations and mapping out possible consequences.”
“So… give me an example.”
“Ok. Bacterial pneumonia needs an antibiotic. You hit a city—”
His forehead bunched. “It’s incapacitated within days.”
“Yes. Pharmacies can’t stock enough meds. Doctors can’t see enough patients. Everyone goes down and commerce stops. As does law enforcement, first responders. Strategic epidemics could render a region useless.”
“Christ, Marlena.”
She hung her head then peeked at him. “I feel like I created a nuke that people can get their hands on.”
Anger flexed in his jaw. “There’s no way you’ve had enough protection.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“We can blame that on a mixture of denial, tenaciousness, and stupidity.”
He laughed harshly. “Hell…”
“What?”
“We’re two of a kind. You know that? I travel all over the damn world blowing shit up.” He shook his head. “But here you are, all covert projects and trying to take on the world by yourself, wanting to fix something you can’t.”
“Shut up,” a man called from across the room.
Trace grumbled. “They’re still convinced I’m your meathead boyfriend.”
“You’re not?”
He laughed. “I’m a lost cause, remember?”
“You’re full of it—”
“Shut up!” the man barked again.
Trace looked at him—she could have sworn he growled—then back at her. “That fucker’s going down soon enough.”
“So?” she asked. “Meathead boyfriend?”
“Are you kidding me? We’re being held at gunpoint. You want to define our relationship?”
“Yeah. If I’m going to die, I’d like to know if I have a boyfriend. Meathead or not.”
He shook his head, smiling. “I like you.”
She smiled too, scooting over an inch. “I knew that.”
“No. You knew I liked you in bed.”