Author: Jaci Burton

Offering a teasing smile, she said, “I’m never too tired.”

After they ate, she did the dishes while Mac cleaned up outside. They settled into the living room and watched some television. Anxiety itched in her veins, making it difficult to sit still, but she maintained the façade so Mac wouldn’t become suspicious.

“You’re fidgety,” he said, adjusting her in his arms.

Damn. “I know. I’m tired, but a little pent up, too.”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “I know what will relax you.”

She palmed his chest, pushing him away with a laugh.

“That’s what got me pent up in the first place.”

“So, sex with me isn’t relaxing?” He feigned a hurt expression.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. She stood and grabbed his glass. “Refill on your soda?”

“Sure, if you’re headed that way.” He propped his feet on the coffee table and leaned back to watch TV.

Perfect. She went into the kitchen and poured him a tall glass, then pulled the sleeping pills out of her pocket. One or two? She didn’t really know how strong these were, but the directions on Tom’s prescription bottle said one to two pills as a sleep aid. So two certainly wouldn’t kill him, and Lily wanted to make certain Mac would be out cold so she could make her escape.

As she dropped the pills into his soda and watched them dissolve, she felt a pang of guilt, then quickly pushed it aside.

He’d lied to her, and God only knew what his plans were for the virus. She had to intercede and take it away from him before Tom returned tomorrow. This was her last chance. The virus was deadly. In the wrong hands, it could be devastating.

She refused to allow that to happen.

She found some chips and dip, fixed a tray and brought that into the living room along with their drinks, making sure she knew exactly which drink was Mac’s. She handed it to him.

“Oooh, snacks,” he said, digging into the salty chips.

“You think of everything.”

Lily smiled at him. Chips would make him thirsty.

Exactly what she wanted. She sipped her cola and nibbled on the snacks, pretending to watch television but casting quick glances at him out of the corner of her eye. He was munching, and guzzling down his soda. Now all she had to do was wait.

It didn’t take long. He started to blink a few times, then yawn. She snuggled closer to him and yawned, too, then laid her head on his chest, her palm over his heart.

“This feels normal,” he said. “You and me, kicked back and watching television. It feels good.”

“Yeah, it does.” Saying it hurt, because having his arm around her, feeling this comfort, was a lie.

“I’d like to have a life like this someday.”

“A life like what?”

“You and me, a place by the lake. Maybe a couple kids.”

Lies! She refused to let her heart believe what he was telling her was truth. “Yeah, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

She fought back tears.

“Damn perfect. I could…I could stay here…jus like this all nigh…”

He didn’t finish, his last words slurring as if he’d had too much to drink. Lily didn’t move, just stayed there in his embrace. When his arm dropped from around her shoulders, she pulled away and sat up.

“Mac?”

No response.

“Mac.” She pushed at him, but he didn’t budge. “Hey, Mac. Wake up.”

She pinched him, waiting for him to flinch, but he didn’t. His pulse was normal and steady. So was his breathing.

She got up and banged around a little, making as much noise as she could to see if he’d stir.

No way. He was utterly out cold.

This was her chance. With methodical precision, she started her search around Tom’s house, looking for the virus.

The first place she looked was in the room she shared with Mac, figuring he’d still have possession of it. She looked in his bags, in every drawer and in the closet, but didn’t find a thing.

Okay, that sort of made sense. He probably handed over the vial to Tom already, who had it hidden.

But where?

She went downstairs and searched Tom’s bedroom next, tearing off his blankets, flipping the mattress and box springs off his bed and leaving nothing unchecked. She searched underneath and behind his nightstand and his dresser, pulled all the clothes out of every drawer to search for false bottoms, but came up empty.

Next she searched his bathroom, tearing apart his medicine cabinet. She pulled all the mirrored shelves out, pushing on the back of it, but it was secure. Scrunching her nose, she attacked the linen closet. By the time she had it completely torn apart and had moved into several other rooms and found no luck there either, she was starting to feel disheartened, wondering where the hell Tom had the virus hidden.

Basement, maybe? The last time she’d been down there she hadn’t really done any investigating, just headed straight for the pantry, then got sidetracked by Mac’s phone conversation with Tom.

First she checked on Mac, who still hadn’t moved. She nudged him, but got nothing, not even a smidgeon of movement. He was even snoring. Good. She hurried downstairs and flipped on all the lights in the basement, then stood in the middle and looked around.

Lots of good hiding places down here. A couple locked storage cabinets. She’d start there. First she had to break the locks.

She searched every single corner and pile of tools until she found bolt cutters. Perfect. Having been a cop meant she knew how to get into things like locks. With a little effort and muscle, she snapped the lock on the first storage cabinet, this one large enough to walk in. There was a hanging light overhead, so she grabbed the string and flicked it on. Boxes of old papers and nothing more, but she opened each box to check the contents just to be sure.

No luck there, so she moved onto the next cabinet, this one small and compact, sitting on a work bench in the corner of the basement. She worked the lock until she snapped it in two, then pried the metal door open.

It was completely empty. Well, damn. She’d been so certain she’d found his hiding place.

She searched the rest of the basement, including inside his washer and dryer, leaving nothing unchecked.

It wasn’t down here.

Frustrated, she moved back upstairs. Mac was still sleeping, but she couldn’t wait forever. She had to find the virus. She stood in the center of the living room, her heart pounding, hands on her hips as she turned in a circle. Where the hell was it?

Her gaze hit the wall where Tom’s medals were, and she sent him a ton of mental curses.

Damn both of them.

Then she frowned and moved toward the wall. Could she really be that lucky? She lifted one set of medals off.

Nothing but wall. Okay, maybe she was grasping at straws. But when she moved to the other, it didn’t lift off, it pulled open. And underneath was a locked cabinet build inside the wall.

Excitement thrummed inside her. She took a quick glance over her shoulder at Mac, then turned back to the vault.

Okay, it needed a key, and she’d just bet Tom had it. Which didn’t mean she would have to jimmy the lock.

She ran down to the basement and found Tom’s toolbox, rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for—a tiny pick, the barrel slim enough to fit into the lock. She hurried back up, once again taking a quick look at Mac. He hadn’t even moved positions.

She slid the pick into the lock, put her ear against it, then started wiggling it, turning it this way and that, listening to the sound of the tumblers. She worked it for about ten minutes, keeping the palm of her other hand wrapped around the handle.

Every once in awhile she’d turn the handle, hoping she’d managed to undo the lock.

Finally, it clicked. She prayed, and turned the handle.

Bingo! The handle shifted down and she pulled the door open. Inside the vault was the virus.

If she wasn’t afraid she’d wake Mac, she’d shout for joy. Her heart accelerated to breakneck speed and she had to take a step back and rest her palms on her knees to catch her breath. Finally, it was hers, and no way in hell was she going to let anyone take it away from her. Using both hands, she cradled it in her palms and lifted it out of the cabinet, heading out of the room. She deposited it on the kitchen table and stood there, staring at it.

Okay, she’d found the virus. Now she had to get out of here. Which meant she needed transportation. Sadly, Mac’s bike was out of the question since she didn’t know how to ride.

Damn. She should have asked him for lessons, though she was pretty sure he wouldn’t have given them to her.

But there was a garage on the side of the house. She stepped outside and headed toward the small wooden building, wondering if her luck would hold out.

The door was locked, but there was a window next to it.

Though it was dark inside, she made out the shape of a car inside. Yes! She resisted the urge to whoop out loud with sheer exhilaration. Next step was to get inside the garage and figure out if there were keys.

She hightailed it back inside the house and into Tom’s room. She remembered seeing a set of keys in the top drawer of his dresser before she upended everything, so she crouched down on the floor and rummaged through the scattered contents of his drawers until she found the key ring, then clutched it in her hand. She paused, looked at the keys and rolled her eyes, wondering if any of these keys would have opened the safe in the living room.

Goddamit, she was stressed. She couldn’t think of everything, could she?

On her way through the kitchen, she grabbed three thick towels and marched back out to the garage, just in case she had to break into the garage through the window. She hoped one of the keys on the ring would unlock the garage door.

It did. With a satisfied grin, she flipped on the light and moved toward the car. It was unlocked and she slid inside the driver’s seat and looked at all the keys on the ring. There was only one Chevy key. She slipped the key into the ignition. It fit.

She closed her eyes and held her breath.

When the engine turned over and roared to life, she almost cried. She had a way out. She had the virus, and she had a means to escape. It was almost too good to be true. She beat her hands on the steering wheel, let out a mini squeal of victory, then turned the ignition off and got out of the car, pocketing the keys.

She ran into the house and grabbed her bag, then tossed on a pair of jeans and ran downstairs, checking on Mac one more time.

He was still asleep. She leaned over him and felt his pulse. Still regular.

God, he looked so beautiful when he slept. His lips full, his lashes thick and inky black, a stark contrast against the top of his cheeks. She let her palm linger on his face, felt his warmth, his breath against her hand.

She hesitated, knowing this was the last time she was going to see him.

Why? Why did she feel this regret? Would Mac feel remorse when he left her at some rest stop or restaurant or hotel? Would he feel this jabbing pain in the pit of his stomach at the thought of never seeing her again?

Get over yourself, Lily. He’s not the man you want him to be. He never was, and he never will be. Get the virus and get out.

Still, she couldn’t help herself. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Goodbye, Mac.”

He didn’t move at all. She sighed and moved out of the room.

She’d gone with Mac into Tom’s office to view the surveillance equipment, and knew the front gates were electronically operated. It had to be opened from in there. She went into Tom’s office and pressed the button, watching on the monitor as the iron gates slowly opened. Then she went into the kitchen, grabbed the vial and tucked it into her bag. She closed the back door, hurrying down the stairs and to the garage. The garage door was heavy, but she pulled it open, then started the car, resisting the urge to floor it down the long driveway. As soon as she pulled past the gates, she hit the button on the visor, which closed them behind her.