“Yes, we are testing a cure. A DNA vaccination, to be more specific.”
“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Kirk said. “Shoot us up.”
“We administered it while you were unconscious.”
I scanned Kirk’s body, my own arms and legs. “And is it working?”
“We’ll see.”
I wasn’t very attentive in middle school, but I did remember a few things from science class.
“If this is an experiment, there has to be a control group.”
“Yes.”
My stomach dipped. “So you only gave one of us the cure …”
“And the other was given a placebo shot. That’s correct.”
I closed my eyes. Pressure assaulted my chest, making it hard to breathe. I wanted to look at Kirk, see how he was handling this, but I was afraid if I did, my shaking would increase. Or worse yet, I’d start to cry.
Kirk was the one who summed up the obvious. “So one of us will die and the other gets to watch.”
“That will be true if the vaccine works.”
“And when one of us starts showing symptoms? Will you give the vaccine then?”
“That will be too late. Once the virus has replicated enough to be symptomatic, the vaccine is no longer effective.”
“You’ve done other tests?”
“Only with chimps. The vaccine was not effective once symptoms began.”
I forced my eyes open, remembering the dead doctors and nurses Julie had described. I had to wonder what the prick on the intercom had done with the bodies. What excuse he’d given the families to explain why their loved ones weren’t coming home from work.
“How do you know the vaccine will be effective if it’s given earlier?” Kirk asked.
“We don’t.”
“So we could both die.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Unfortunately?” I let out a bitter laugh. “I’m sure your heart bleeds.”
“I’m defending our country. Defending our way of life from those who seek to destroy it. Every war has casualties.”
“Don’t give us that war on terror bullshit, Pembrooke. And don’t give us that goose-stepping just following orders bullshit, either.”
“If we didn’t do things like this, the other side would.”
“If you didn’t do things like this, the other side might not hate us so goddamn much. You’re a monster.”
I wasn’t naïve. I’d done a lot of morally questionable things, murdered a lot of people, all in the name of my government and keeping my country safe. But I killed players. Politicos. Military. We all signed on for it. Creating a biological weapon, which would no doubt kill millions of innocent civilians …
I reached under my gown and pulled the sensors off my chest, causing the machine to flat line. Then I ripped the tape off my hand and pulled the IV needle out of my vein.
“The morphine drip is to help you with the pain. And we need to monitor your vitals to—”
“You need to shut the fuck up.” I slung my legs over the side of the bed.
“You really should—”
“I’d listen to her if I were you,” Kirk said.
I didn’t feel any effects of morphine. My head was clear, my body as achy as ever. Even so, my first steps were wobbly, a few remaining effects of whatever they’d gassed us with. I was steady by the time I reached the door.
Locked.
“There’s no way out of that room, not until we come in and get you.”
“You’d better hope not, Pembrooke. Because if I get out of here, the things I’m going to do to you will make Ebola look like hay fever.”
I tried the door with a couple of kicks, then moved on to the perimeter of the room, testing walls, ceiling, and floor until I had no sane option but to acknowledge the voice was right. There was nothing left to do but die.
Or watch the other die.
My stomach felt hollow.
I walked back to the bed where Kirk had just disabled his heart monitor. He was a few years older, a formidable man, a mercenary forged by the same type of red-hot violence that had hardened me. And when I looked at the calm in his eyes, I wondered how many times he had recognized the possibility of his own death.
“Ever dreamed it would happen like this?”
He gave me a crooked smile. “Never thought about it.”
“Not once?”
He shrugged.
“It doesn’t bother you to die in a laboratory as part of some sick experiment?”
“Better than a men’s can in the subway.” He gave me that bedroom eyes stare. “And I couldn’t ask for better company.”
I let out a small laugh at his bravado.
It had to be bravado.
He couldn’t be serious.
Right?
I looked at him, studied his face.
Jesus, he actually was serious.
My stomach jittered again, but this time it was a good kind of jitter.
“I took a picture of you,” I said.
No reason not to be brazen.
“What for?” he asked.
“For me. If I never saw you again.”
“But you don’t need a picture. Here I am.”
“Here you are.”
I stepped close and circled my hands around his neck. This morning I hadn’t known him. Just a few hours ago, I’d been ready to kill him. Now it felt like we were the only two people in a brutal world, and only one of us would see tomorrow.
I brought my lips to his.
He opened to me, his hand cradling the back of my head, pulling my mouth hard against his.
Heat spiked my blood.
Lust.
Life.
I wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but when we broke apart, I knew it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Needed more. If I only had minutes left on this planet, I would damn well make them count.
“I know how I want to go out,” I whispered.
He tilted his head to the side, studying me, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “And our friend on the other side of that camera?”
I glanced up at the lens peering down at us. “Let the bastard break out his popcorn and Raisinets.”
I thought Kirk’s little grins and sideways looks were sexy before, but I didn’t have words to describe his expression now. He pulled me tight against his body and kissed me again, hard, needy. Beyond the river water, his skin still smelled of that Armani cologne, and a warm scent that was all his own.
I breathed him in, wanting to take everything about this man deep inside.
Our hospital gowns were off in seconds, and our battered bodies intertwined. At first we just clung to one another, kissing, probing. A dusting of hair covered his chest, and I ground my breasts against him, the sensation zapping through my nipples like an electric charge.
Then I was pushing him back on his bed and climbing on top of him.
He was erect, and I rubbed against him until I was wet enough to take him inside. I came on my third stroke, waves shuddering through me. I arched my back, still thrusting, and he buried his face in my chest.
I hardly knew Jonathan Kirk. And now I never really would.
But right then, he symbolized everything to me.
Sensation.
Connection.
Life itself.
I wanted to explore all of him, feel things I never had before. I wanted this to last forever, and knowing it wouldn’t made each second, each moment, each thrust and sigh and whimper all the more profound.
I sensed the muscles in his thighs tensing, trying to hold back the coming release, and slowed my motion.
Nuzzling my breasts, he looked up at me.
“What do you like most?” I breathed.
His smile was a wicked thing. “Let me taste you.”
“Me first.”
I moved down his body, littering kisses over his chest, his belly, my hair fanning over him in my wake. I trailed my tongue up the length of him, then took him full in my mouth. I tasted myself on him, the flavors and scents mingling, intoxicating.