Page 17 of Crocodile Tears (Romance Expected Dating Service #2)

Her computer is still logged in, displaying an unfinished experimental protocol that she apparently abandoned mid-sentence.

The cursor blinks after “phase two implementation requires additional safety measures for enhanced genetic expression in reptilian subjects… ” which suggests she was interrupted while working rather than completing her normal shutdown procedures.

“Frank, can you show me the security footage from the parking garage approximately fifteen minutes ago?”

We return to the main security office, where Frank pulls up the digital recording system with the practiced efficiency of someone who’s dealt with academic security issues before. The footage confirms Rebecca’s abduction was carried out by professionals who knew exactly what they were doing.

“Jeez,” Frank mutters as we watch the specialized taser drop Rebecca mid-shift. “Is that Dr. Lawson? What the hell kind of equipment was that?”

“Military-grade electrical weapons designed specifically for shifter physiology.” I study the tactical gear and movement patterns visible in the footage.

“These weren’t random criminals or opportunistic kidnappers.

This was a targeted operation by people with detailed intelligence about Dr. Lawson’s research and personal routines. ”

“Should I call the police?”

“Yes, but this is going to require resources beyond local law enforcement.” I’m already mentally organizing the contact list of people who might be willing to help with an off-the-books international incident.

“Frank, I need to make some calls. Can you secure Dr. Lawson’s lab and make sure no one else accesses her research materials? ”

“I can do that. But what kind of people kidnap university professors?”

“The kind who think her genetic research is worth more than her personal safety.”

I’m in Rebecca’s office reviewing her research notes when I hear footsteps in the hallway. Frank should be securing the lab area, which means either he’s returned with additional security personnel or someone else has gained access to the building.

The footsteps approach Rebecca’s office with the kind of purposeful stride that suggests familiarity with the building layout. I position myself behind the door, ready to assess whether this is a friendly contact or a potential threat.

A young woman with short dark hair enters the office and immediately stops short when she sees me standing behind Rebecca’s desk. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in Dr. Lawson’s office?”

Before I can respond, she grabs a heavy-duty stapler from the desk and hurls it at my head with surprising accuracy. I duck, and the stapler impacts the wall behind me with enough force to leave a dent.

“Hey, wait—”

She’s already reaching for what appears to be a portable Bunsen burner, brandishing it like a weapon while backing toward the door.

“I watch true crime documentaries, and I know exactly how this goes.” Her voice carries the kind of controlled panic that suggests someone who’s prepared for emergencies but hoping she’ll never need to implement those preparations.

“You’re probably some creepy stalker who broke in here to steal her research or plant recording devices or worse! ”

“I’m Calvin Hargrove. I’m Rebecca’s—”

“I don’t care who you say you are.” She adjusts her grip on the Bunsen burner, clearly prepared to use it as a bludgeoning weapon. “Dr. Lawson would never leave her office unlocked with strange men inside unless something terrible happened!”

“Something terrible did happen. Rebecca’s been kidnapped.”

The statement stops her mid-threat, though she maintains her defensive posture. “Kidnapped? What do you mean kidnapped?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Six men in tactical gear abducted her from the parking garage approximately thirty minutes ago.” I keep my hands visible and my voice calm. “I’m trying to figure out who took her and why.”

“And you are?”

“ Calvin Hargrove, ” I repeat. “Rebecca and I had dinner last night. I came by to see her and witnessed the abduction.”

“Right, right.” She shakes her head and her expression shifts from immediate hostility to suspicious evaluation. “You’re the paranoid security consultant.”

“That’s… one way to describe me.”

“The one who lectured her about Canadian goose migration patterns and kissed her against a wall because you thought you were being followed.”

I flush. “Rebecca told you about that?”

“She told me quite a bit.” The woman lowers the Bunsen burner slightly but maintains her wary stance. “Including the part where you convinced her someone was conducting surveillance during your date.”

“Someone was conducting surveillance during our date. The same people who just kidnapped her .”

“Prove it.”

I gesture toward Rebecca’s computer, where the security footage is still playing on the monitor. “Frank, the security guard, pulled this from the building’s camera system. You can see exactly what happened.”

She approaches cautiously, keeping the Bunsen burner ready while studying the footage.

Her expression changes from suspicion to horror as she watches Rebecca’s abduction unfold in digital clarity.

“That’s really her.” She sinks into Rebecca’s desk chair, finally setting down her improvised weapon. “They actually kidnapped her.”

“I’m sorry. You are?”

“Margo Compton. Dr. Lawson’s research assistant and best friend.” She looks up at me with a mixture of shock and dawning realization. “I knew you were a spy!”

“I’m not a spy. I’m a security consultant.”

“Same thing.” Margo waves dismissively. “The point is, I knew there was more to you than civilian dating. Normal people don’t detect professional surveillance or recognize military-grade kidnapping equipment.”

“Normal people also don’t get targeted by South American paramilitaries for their genetic research.”

“South American paramilitaries?” Margo’s eyes widen with obvious excitement despite the circumstances. “Like drug cartels or government contractors?”

“More likely contractors working for clients who want access to Rebecca’s research applications.” I turn back to the computer, reviewing the notes she left open. “Her work on enhanced genetic expression in reptilian subjects could have significant military applications.”

“Military applications like what?”

“Accelerated healing, enhanced physical performance, and improved resistance to injury and environmental stress.” I pause, considering the implications. “The kind of capabilities that certain organizations would pay significant money to develop or control.”

Margo nods thoughtfully and then suddenly brightens with the kind of enthusiasm that suggests she’s been waiting her entire life for this exact situation. “Agent Scales, what’s our mission parameters?”

“My name is Calvin, and I’m not an agent of anything.”

“Fine, Calvin.” Margo rolls her eyes. “But you are going to rescue Dr. Lawson, right? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what happens next in this scenario.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to find her and bring her home safely.”

“Good. Because I’m helping. I’m good with computers.”

“Margo, this isn’t a movie. These are dangerous people with professional capabilities and significant resources.”

“I’m a former hacktivist with extensive knowledge of digital surveillance systems and international transportation networks.” Margo cracks her knuckles with obvious relish. “Remember when I mentioned I was good with computers? I might have undersold my skills.”

“What kind of skills?”

“The kind that got me recruited by three different government agencies before I decided I’d rather help Dr. Lawson revolutionize medicine than hunt terrorists for bureaucrats.” She grins. “Also, I watch a lot of spy movies, and they’re totally more accurate than people think.”

Despite the circumstances, I’m impressed by her confidence and oddly reassured by her willingness to help. “What do you think you can contribute to a rescue operation?”

“Transportation tracking, communication intercepts, financial transaction monitoring, and probably a dozen other things that will be useful for finding people who don’t want to be found.

” Margo turns to Rebecca’s computer and begins typing with the kind of focused intensity that suggests serious technical expertise.

“Plus, I know Dr. Lawson better than anyone, which means I can predict her behavior and anticipate her responses to various situations.”

“And you think your spy movie knowledge is relevant how?”

“Because spy movies get the technical stuff right more often than people realize. The relationships and dialogue are usually terrible, but the operational procedures are surprisingly accurate.” She pauses in her typing to look at me seriously.

“Agent Scales, we’re going to need backup for this mission. ”

“My name is Calvin, and what kind of backup?”

“The kind that operates in gray areas between official agencies and private contractors.” Margo grins. “You must have contacts from your mysterious security consulting career who can help with off-the-books international incidents.”

She’s right, though I’m not sure I want to involve my former colleagues in what’s becoming a personal situation with unpredictable complications. Still, Rebecca’s life is more important than my preference for handling problems independently.

I pull out my phone and scroll through contacts until I find the number I haven’t called in six months. Nikolai Daniels—not an official government agent but a highly effective freelance fixer, who operates in exactly the kind of gray areas this situation requires.

“Nikolai? It’s Cal Hargrove.”

“Cal? It’s been too long, my friend. Please tell me you’re calling with interesting work that pays well and doesn’t involve paperwork.”

“I’m calling with a situation that’s definitely interesting, probably won’t pay at all, and absolutely doesn’t involve paperwork.”

He laughs. “Even better. What do you need?”

“A friend of mine has been kidnapped by what appears to be South American contractors. It’s a professional operation with specialized equipment and international transportation.

Probably Colombia.” I summarize the situation while Margo continues typing with impressive speed.

“I need help tracking them and coordinating a response.”

“South American contractors working for whom?”

“Unknown. The target is a geneticist whose research has potential military applications. Could be government, corporate, or criminal clients.”

“Location of the incident?” he asks.

“United States. They’re probably transporting her out of the country as we speak.” I try to ignore the fear clawing at my stomach and sound calm.

“Cal, this is exactly the kind of situation that requires official channels and government resources.”

I snort. “Nik, you know how long official channels take for international incidents. By the time agencies coordinate jurisdictional authority and diplomatic protocols, she could be anywhere in the world.”

There’s a pause while he considers the implications. “This is personal for you.”

I don’t hesitate. “It’s very personal.”

“Off the books?”

“Completely off the books. Personal favor, no official sanction, and no backup if things go wrong.”

He sighs after a pause. “I’ll make some calls. Give me two hours to identify transportation vectors and potential destinations.”

“Thank you.”

“Calvin? Be careful with this one. South American contractors don’t take prisoners for negotiation purposes.” There’s no missing the concern in his tone.

The line goes dead, leaving me with the uncomfortable knowledge that Rebecca’s situation is even more dangerous than I initially assessed.

“Agent Scales,” says Margo from Rebecca’s computer, “I’ve got good news.”

“Calvin. And what’s the good news?”

“I’ve identified three private jets that filed flight plans from regional airports within driving distance of the university in the past four hours.

” She turns the monitor so I can see a map displaying flight paths.

“One of them filed a suspicious route to Colombia with falsified passenger manifests and cargo declarations.”

“Good job, Margo. How fast can you get detailed information about that flight?”

“Give me twenty minutes and access to some databases that I’m technically not supposed to access.” She grins with obvious excitement. “This is exactly the kind of challenge I’ve been missing since I went legit.”

While Margo works her digital magic, I contact my equipment cache and arrange for tactical gear that might be useful for international operations. The irony of going from dinner dates to rescue missions in less than twenty-four hours isn’t lost on me.

“Agent Scales, I’ve got flight details, passenger information, and probable destination coordinates.” She prints out several pages of information with obvious satisfaction. “Also, I put together a rescue kit for Dr. Lawson.”

“What kind of rescue kit?”

“Protein bars, first-aid supplies, water purification tablets, and a romance novel in case she gets bored during the rescue.” She hands me a small backpack with obvious pride. “The book is really good. It’s about a woman who gets kidnapped by pirates and falls in love with the guy who rescues her.”

I’m oddly touched on Becci’s behalf by the gesture. “Margo, that’s thoughtful.”

“Just bring her home, Agent Scales.”

“Calvin,” I say testily. “Or Cal.”

She shrugs. “Whatever. Just bring her home.”

By midnight, I’m on a cargo plane headed south with weapons from my emergency cache, intelligence provided by Nikolai’s contacts, and Margo’s ridiculous but surprisingly comprehensive rescue kit. I wonder how my attempt at normal dating turned into an international rescue mission.

The answer, of course, is that nothing about Becci is normal, and nothing about my attraction to her follows conventional patterns. She’s brilliant, passionate, occasionally dangerous, and apparently valuable enough for professional kidnappers to risk international incidents.

As the plane climbs toward cruising altitude, I study the intelligence Margo gathered and plan approaches for scenarios that range from simple extraction to full-scale assault. Her safety is the only priority that matters, but I wonder what happens after I bring her home.

The romance novel in the rescue kit backpack suggests Margo thinks everything will work out perfectly, but real life is more complicated than fiction, even when fiction involves pirates and kidnapping.