“Look.”
He peeled up her shirt, revealing her naked arm and back. Her skin was white and creamy, and as his fingers explored her upper arm, he had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to stroke her back as well, to slide his hand underneath the T-shirt and to cup her breast in his palm.
Goose bumps appeared on her skin, and she shivered under his touch. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head, a slow blush easing up the back of her neck. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Did you find it?”
“Not yet. I—Shit.” And there it was. A tiny red prick. Not even noticeable unless you were looking for it. “Goddamn it all to hell,” he said.
She drew in a loud, shaky breath, then eased out from under his touch. Her arm snaked back up, and when she turned back to face him, she was dressed again. “It happened this morning,” she said. “Ten-thirty. Maybe eleven.”
“It’s almost one now.”
“Should I go to a hospital?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “If the doctors think you’ve been infected with that kind of a toxin, they’ll raise the alarm. Call in Homeland Security and get all sorts of authorities involved. You’ll be quarantined. And by the time we get it straightened out, twenty-four hours will be long gone.”
“We don’t have to mention the comparison to Ricin. We could just say poison.”
“There’s no guarantee the toxin will be isolated in time even if we do mention Ricin. And if we don’t, we can pretty much guarantee they won’t find anything out in time. In the meantime, the antidote will be out there waiting for us. But if we don’t find it in time—”
“You’re right,” she said. “No hospital.” She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “We follow the clue.”
Chapter
22
I felt fine, and I couldn’t quite get my head around the idea that I’d been poisoned and had less than twenty-four hours to find the antidote. If this were a movie—or even an episode of 24 —I’d find the antidote in the last possible second, then I’d turn around and kick the shit out of the bad guy.
Would be nice, but I wasn’t going to bank on it.
I shoved Kiefer out of my mind and focused instead on the man who was with me. The man who’d promised to help get me through this. I believed him, too, and already I’d come to rely on his strength, to anticipate his thoughts and suggestions. I’d only known him for a few hours, but my life was running in fast forward now, and Stryker was running right alongside me.
At the moment, though, he wasn’t running anywhere. Instead, he’d parked himself back at the computer, and now he pulled up Google and typed in a search.
>New York Prestige Park<<<
About a million hits came up, all of them raving about the prestigious apartments/offices/restaurants on Park Avenue. So much for an easy answer.
We were running out of ideas. If we couldn’t figure out Prestige Park, we couldn’t find the next clue. And if we couldn’t find the next clue, I was dead.
“Let me try,” I said. I didn’t care if there were two thousand pages of hits. We were going to look at every single one of them.
“Hold on,” he said, then typed in a new search.
>“New York” “Prestige Park”<<<
He hit Enter, and bingo. A car park. “Well, hello,” Stryker said. And I actually almost smiled.
We’d decided to stay in my apartment until we figured out the clue, since moving to some other location would take too much time. But we’d also decided to be quiet, just in case there were other eyes and ears watching us. I’d changed out of Todd’s clothes and pulled on my Miss Sixty jeans and a Goretti tank top I’d scored off eBay.
Beside me, Stryker had his cell phone open and was dialing information. “Turn up the radio,” he said.
I rushed to the stereo and complied, turning the volume higher and higher until he finally nodded, satisfied. How he’d hear his conversation, I didn’t know. Didn’t
He peeled up her shirt, revealing her naked arm and back. Her skin was white and creamy, and as his fingers explored her upper arm, he had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to stroke her back as well, to slide his hand underneath the T-shirt and to cup her breast in his palm.
Goose bumps appeared on her skin, and she shivered under his touch. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head, a slow blush easing up the back of her neck. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Did you find it?”
“Not yet. I—Shit.” And there it was. A tiny red prick. Not even noticeable unless you were looking for it. “Goddamn it all to hell,” he said.
She drew in a loud, shaky breath, then eased out from under his touch. Her arm snaked back up, and when she turned back to face him, she was dressed again. “It happened this morning,” she said. “Ten-thirty. Maybe eleven.”
“It’s almost one now.”
“Should I go to a hospital?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “If the doctors think you’ve been infected with that kind of a toxin, they’ll raise the alarm. Call in Homeland Security and get all sorts of authorities involved. You’ll be quarantined. And by the time we get it straightened out, twenty-four hours will be long gone.”
“We don’t have to mention the comparison to Ricin. We could just say poison.”
“There’s no guarantee the toxin will be isolated in time even if we do mention Ricin. And if we don’t, we can pretty much guarantee they won’t find anything out in time. In the meantime, the antidote will be out there waiting for us. But if we don’t find it in time—”
“You’re right,” she said. “No hospital.” She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “We follow the clue.”
Chapter
22
I felt fine, and I couldn’t quite get my head around the idea that I’d been poisoned and had less than twenty-four hours to find the antidote. If this were a movie—or even an episode of 24 —I’d find the antidote in the last possible second, then I’d turn around and kick the shit out of the bad guy.
Would be nice, but I wasn’t going to bank on it.
I shoved Kiefer out of my mind and focused instead on the man who was with me. The man who’d promised to help get me through this. I believed him, too, and already I’d come to rely on his strength, to anticipate his thoughts and suggestions. I’d only known him for a few hours, but my life was running in fast forward now, and Stryker was running right alongside me.
At the moment, though, he wasn’t running anywhere. Instead, he’d parked himself back at the computer, and now he pulled up Google and typed in a search.
>New York Prestige Park<<<
About a million hits came up, all of them raving about the prestigious apartments/offices/restaurants on Park Avenue. So much for an easy answer.
We were running out of ideas. If we couldn’t figure out Prestige Park, we couldn’t find the next clue. And if we couldn’t find the next clue, I was dead.
“Let me try,” I said. I didn’t care if there were two thousand pages of hits. We were going to look at every single one of them.
“Hold on,” he said, then typed in a new search.
>“New York” “Prestige Park”<<<
He hit Enter, and bingo. A car park. “Well, hello,” Stryker said. And I actually almost smiled.
We’d decided to stay in my apartment until we figured out the clue, since moving to some other location would take too much time. But we’d also decided to be quiet, just in case there were other eyes and ears watching us. I’d changed out of Todd’s clothes and pulled on my Miss Sixty jeans and a Goretti tank top I’d scored off eBay.
Beside me, Stryker had his cell phone open and was dialing information. “Turn up the radio,” he said.
I rushed to the stereo and complied, turning the volume higher and higher until he finally nodded, satisfied. How he’d hear his conversation, I didn’t know. Didn’t
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