Two doctors are on thin ice as they race to save the world from a deadly disease.

Epidemic researcher Dr. Avery Thatcher has studied countless illnesses...but nothing prepares her for what she finds at a remote Antarctic base: the man she never wanted to see again and a mysterious ailment ravaging inhabitants. Avery will do whatever it takes to discover the illness’s cause, and she vows to keep her heartbreaking history with Dr. Grant Jones in the past—even if reignited passion brings them dangerously close.

For Grant, ending this outbreak and regaining Avery’s trust are vital. As their hunt to contain a lethal pathogen escalates, he’ll put everything on the line to avert disaster. But will another insidious threat stop them both cold?

“It’s your show,” Grant said, offering Avery a small smile.

“Thanks,” she said softly. Her lips felt dry so she darted her tongue out to moisten them. Standing this close, she could see a flash of heat in the depths of his hazel eyes. Avery felt an answering warmth, a small coal of need that burned brighter the longer Grant watched her.

How would he respond if she placed her hand on his chest and pressed her mouth to his? She knew what the boy would do. How would the man react?

She never got the chance to find out. Quicker than thought, Grant dropped his head and kissed her, his lips warm and firm against her own. Avery inhaled deeply, the heady scent of Grant’s skin making her head spin. She sank into the comfort of his kiss, her body celebrating the rightness of this moment, this connection. The bad taste of her memories faded as she teased Grant’s tongue with her own, stoking his response as her own desire built.

* * *

We hope you enjoyed a sneak peek at the latest

volume in Lara Lacombe’s exciting series,

Doctors in Danger!

Dr. Do-or-Die

Lara Lacombe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LARA LACOMBE earned a PhD in microbiology and immunology and worked in several labs across the country before moving into the classroom. Her day job as a college science professor gives her time to pursue her other love—writing fast-paced romantic suspense with smart, nerdy heroines and dangerously attractive heroes. She loves to hear from readers! Find her on the web or contact her at laralacombewriter@gmail.com.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

US Research Base, Fort Gilmour, Antarctica

“I think I’ve found something.”

There was a pause, and Paul Coleson imagined the man on the other end of the line mentally translating his words. The language barrier was one of the downsides of working with the Organization, a shadowy group of men and women that operated under the cover of an internationally respected charity. Four months ago, Paul hadn’t known they existed. He’d accepted their offer in good faith, seeing it as an opportunity to earn a little side money while working at the bottom of the world. But as time passed, their true intentions had become all too clear. Now he was just trying to make the best of a bad situation, cooperating in the hopes they would leave his family alone.

“Tell me more.”

He shoved his free hand in his pocket and swayed back and forth on his feet. He’d learned that if he kept moving, the infamous Antarctic cold couldn’t settle in his bones. Even though he spent most of his time inside, it was so damn cold in this godforsaken place he thought he’d never get warm again. “I isolated it from a core sample. So far, the results are promising.” He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, so as not to raise their expectations. They’d all known from the beginning that he was basically conducting a fishing expedition. Results were desirable, but not guaranteed.

Now that he had a potential lead, he didn’t want to misrepresent his preliminary findings—if they thought he had found a suitable candidate and it turned out to be a failure, things would not go well for him. And even though this was his first time working for the group, he’d learned enough about their operations to know that overpromising and underdelivering was not a sound strategy.

Especially if he wanted to live.

“What results?” The man’s voice was flat, with no hint of interest. They might as well be discussing the weather. But something told Paul that he had his contact’s full attention.

He took a deep breath. “As I said, I isolated the agent from an ice sample. It thawed beautifully, and I’ve been testing it in cells.” And now for the good news. “It’s killed everything I put it in.”

More silence, but he could practically feel the man’s focus sharpening. “How long does it take to kill?”

“Forty-eight hours.”

The man made a noncommittal noise, and a creeping sense of unease made the hairs on the back of Paul’s neck stand on end. He stopped swaying, his feet rooted to the floor as if glued there. His contact didn’t sound too happy with those results. What more could the man want?

“We had hoped for a slower process. To make it more difficult to assign blame.”

“Ah.” He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and started moving again. “Well, keep in mind these are just cells in a dish. Once you start human trials, I think you’ll find it will take longer, since the systems are larger and more complex.”

Another silence, this time tinged with...amusement? What the—

“I think you mean when you start the human trials.”

“What?” Paul couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice, and he glanced around reflexively to make sure no one had overheard. The room was empty, but the interior walls were thin, something he’d do well to remember.

“That was not part of the deal,” he hissed, careful to lower his voice. “I was just supposed to find potential agents and pass them along after doing the preliminary testing. No one said anything about human experimentation.” His gut cramped even as he said the words, not because of any moral objections, but because of the increased risk of doing such experiments. He was already sticking his neck out pretty far, risk-wise. If they wanted him to start infecting people, he was almost guaranteed to get caught.

“The terms have changed.”

“No,” he snapped. “You can’t.”

As soon as the words were out, he realized his mistake. The man on the other end of the line laughed softly, and the menacing sound wrapped cold fingers around his heart.

“You are not in a position to bargain,” his contact said, his voice lethally quiet. “You will conduct human trials, or we will sever our agreement.” The tone of his voice made it clear that other things would be severed as well if there were any problems.

“What about the risk of exposure?” It was a long shot, but the only one Paul had left. Perhaps he could make them understand that having him conduct the experiments simply wasn’t worth the risk involved. “If I’m discovered, the project is a failure.”

“Then I suggest you work carefully.” The words were final, and he realized any further objections would only anger the man. It wasn’t a chance worth taking.

Resigned to his fate, he sighed quietly. “How many?”

“Pardon me?”

“How many test subjects do you need?” Best to clarify things now, so he could take care of everything at once. There would be no second chances. If this agent acted like he expected it to, the effects were going to be dramatic. People were going to panic, and it was quite possible the base would be quarantined, making it even more difficult to collect the data the group wanted. Attention would definitely be paid to this research outpost, which meant he had to work very, very carefully. It had to look like a natural event. If there was even a hint of deliberation about it, the spotlight would shine so hot and bright on the base personnel that there’d be no way for him to escape.

But maybe that was what they wanted... The thought made his blood run cold, and he almost missed hearing the man’s reply.

“As many as possible.”

Of course, he thought. They want me to assume all the risk and get caught for my troubles. The dawning realization lit a spark of anger, warming him from the inside out. He was the perfect scapegoat for them—once he’d been caught, people would stop looking for someone to blame, which meant the Organization would be free to continue operating as before.

Why didn’t I realize it before?

The answer was instantaneous: money. He’d been blinded by dollar signs, and had jumped into bed with these guys for the sake of his family. Now it seemed they were going to be his downfall.

“Very well,” he said, needing to get off the phone before his epiphany made him say something rash. Better for them to think nothing had changed. He didn’t need their suspicion right now—things were going to be hard enough without worrying about the group coming after him.

“Call when you have additional results.” His contact disconnected without another word, and Paul put the phone in his pocket with a sigh.

“Now what?” he muttered.

Two options loomed before him, neither one particularly appealing. He could lie and say he’d tried to infect people but the agent hadn’t worked. It was a possibility. And it would keep people from finding out he worked for the group, which in turn would spare him some rather uncomfortable questions and time in prison.

Lying wasn’t without risks, though. If the Organization found out what he’d done, they wouldn’t hesitate to take their displeasure out on his children. Just the thought of his kids in the hands of those men... He shuddered and placed a hand on his roiling stomach to quell the incipient revolt. No, he couldn’t take that chance.

Which meant he’d have to set up the human trials.

He thrust a hand through his hair and began to pace, his mind whirring with possible options. He’d have to try out different routes of exposure, different doses of the agent. And then somehow keep track of how people felt and when and if they developed symptoms.

No, not people, he thought. Test subjects. Best to start depersonalizing them now, since they were nothing more than a data point from here on out.

And he’d do well to remember it.

Chapter 1

“Got a minute?”

Dr. Avery Thatcher glanced away from her computer monitor to find her boss, Dr. Harold Jenkins, standing in the doorway to her office. She waved him in with her free hand and swallowed her bite of yogurt before placing the spoon back in the container and pushing it to the side of her desk. Harold was a writer by nature, and every time she met with him he wound up jotting stuff down on a small notepad that she suspected was permanently attached to his palm. She’d learned early on in their working relationship to clear a space for him to use, and after five years the action was pure reflex. It was almost like a little dance, she mused now as she completed the familiar choreography.

He shut the door, then sat and patted his jacket pocket for the ubiquitous accessory, but his hand came up empty. That was odd. Had he forgotten it?

Avery took a closer look at her boss and for the first time noticed the fine lines of strain around his eyes and a subtle tightening at the corners of his mouth. Something was definitely up, and Avery had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“How are things?” He asked the question mechanically, and she could tell he was merely trying to observe conversational formalities before diving into the bad news. Her heart picked up the pace as she tried to imagine what he was going to say. The latest round of budget cuts had hit her division hard, and some contractors had been released because of the shortfall. Had the Centers for Disease Control cut the funding for her position?

The thought made her blood freeze. She loved her job as an epidemic investigator. Avery had made the unfortunate discovery during medical school that she was more interested in the diseases themselves than the actual patients. Working at the CDC had turned out to be the perfect way to combine her interest in infectious illnesses with her desire to help people. And since outbreaks occurred all over the country, she’d been sent to some pretty interesting places. It was the perfect job for her, and if she lost it... She shuddered, not even wanting to consider the possibility.

“Harold,” she said, her voice calm despite her frayed nerves. “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

He frowned slightly. “Am I that obvious?”

She nodded and swallowed hard. “Do I need to update my resume?”

Harold blinked at her, clearly taken aback by the question. “No,” he said slowly. Then understanding dawned. “Oh, it’s nothing like that.”

All the air rushed out of her in a gust, and Avery sank back against her chair. “Thank God,” she said, closing her eyes. “You had me going there for a moment.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, sounding rueful. “You know you’re my best investigator. There’s no way I’m letting you go, even if I have to pay your salary myself.”

His words went a long way toward quelling her anxiety. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “That means a lot.”

He waved away her gratitude and leaned forward. “There is something I need to talk to you about, though.” He glanced back at the closed door, as if to reassure himself they weren’t going to be overheard. “There’s something going on in Antarctica.”

“Are the penguins in trouble?”

Harold didn’t even bother to smile at her lame joke. “The US has a research base there, Fort Gilmour. It’s staffed year-round, believe it or not. Something strange has popped up.”

“What kind of something?”

He shook his head. “Unclear at this time. But there have been several cases of an upper respiratory infection with some unusual symptoms.”

Avery felt the familiar tingle of curiosity that came every time she heard about an outbreak. “Such as?”

“It starts as an uncomplicated respiratory infection—cough, congestion, the usual. Some people recover, but those who don’t go on to develop strange hemorrhagic symptoms.”

Avery’s eyebrows shot up. “Strange?” she echoed. What exactly did that mean?

He nodded. “Rather than the diffuse, systemic symptoms we see with something like Ebola, these patients only bleed out into their lungs. They essentially wind up drowning in their own blood.”

A wave of sympathy washed over her as Harold’s words sank in. What a horrible way to die. She could picture it all too easily and shuddered. Harold saw her reaction and nodded. “I know. I feel bad for them, too,” he said.

“How many cases?”

“Ten so far, of which four people have progressed to the hemorrhagic phase and died.”

“Damn,” she said softly. “This bug isn’t messing around.” A 40 percent mortality rate was serious business, high enough to make any self-respecting doctor lose sleep.

“It’s bad,” Harold confirmed. “And to make matters worse, the hospital on the research base is having to handle everything alone. Normally, they can send critical patients to South America or Australia for treatment. But given the nature of this disease, those options are closed. No one wants these patients, especially since we don’t know anything about this bug.”

“That’s terrible!” Outrage stiffened her spine and Avery sat upright. “How can they deny advanced medical care to people who desperately need it?”

Harold shrugged. “They’re happy to air-drop supplies, but no one wants to be responsible for exporting this disease. The major fear is that bringing the patients off-base would allow the agent to enter into the commercial air travel system, and then we’d have a real problem.”

He was right, Avery realized with a growing sense of horror. Even though she hated the idea of sick patients being cut off from the potentially lifesaving technologies of a major hospital, the last thing anyone wanted was a global pandemic of a hemorrhagic respiratory illness. Better to keep the sick all in one place, away from the general population.

And a research base in Antarctica was about as isolated as you could get.

“Where do we come in?” Was Harold telling her this to keep her in the loop, or was there something else going on?

“I need you to go down there and figure out what’s happening. Right now we know next to nothing. We don’t know what the disease agent is, how it’s transmitted, the incubation period, infectious dose—it’s a black box. We need answers.”

Avery nodded slowly. It was a plum assignment, the type of work she loved. But there was just one problem... “Do we even have jurisdiction? This sounds like more of a thing for the World Health Organization rather than us.”

“The WHO is monitoring the situation,” Harold responded. “But since this is happening on a US base, we get the first crack at it.”

Excitement thrummed in her belly, and Avery started making mental lists of everything she’d need to pack. “When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow,” Harold said. “And I need you to keep this assignment between you and me. Outside of a few key people, no one knows about this.”

“Why the cloak-and-dagger routine?” Avery was used to a certain amount of discretion with respect to her assignments, but this seemed a bit extreme.

Harold sighed, and as his shoulders slumped he suddenly looked ten years older. A warning tingle slid down Avery’s spine, and she held her breath, waiting for his reply.

“We’re thinking this might be some kind of new influenza strain,” he said, sounding almost sad. “And if that’s the case...” He trailed off, and Avery nodded, understanding perfectly.

The majority of Americans thought that flu was merely a seasonal inconvenience, something to be endured rather than feared. Most of them had never even heard of the global pandemic of 1918, when between thirty and fifty million people had died from a particularly nasty strain. Since then, doctors and scientists had lived in fear of another massive outbreak, worse than the last. There had been a few false alarms over the years, but so far, humanity had managed to dodge a bullet. Still, researchers kept a close eye on influenza, and most would agree that it was just a matter of time before another virulent strain emerged to threaten the status quo. If it was happening now, panic and fear would sweep the globe faster than any virus, and the very fabric of humanity would be at risk.

Suddenly, Harold’s caution made perfect sense.

“We are modifying response plans as we speak, working in conjunction with the WHO,” Harold said softly. “We all hope this isn’t flu, but we have to be prepared.”

“Is the government going to cut off the base?” It was a drastic measure, but if there was a chance of this bug getting out into the general population, one option would be for the government to seal off the research base until the disease burned out. If no one went in or out, there would be no chance for the agent to escape.

Harold shook his head. “Not yet. But if this does turn out to be some new, supervirulent flu...”

“I know,” she said softly. “We’d be stuck there.” Worry gnawed at the edges of her mind, dampening her earlier enthusiasm. Did she really want to take on this mess, knowing there was a possibility she’d be stranded for an indefinite amount of time?

Her boss stared at her, sympathy welling in his eyes. “You don’t have to go,” he said. “Given the nature of this one, I can’t force you to go to Antarctica when there’s a chance you might get stuck there.”

“It’s okay,” she said, dismissing the hypothetical outcome. If she focused on the potentially negative aspects of her job, she’d never be able to work again. There was always a chance she might get caught in a quarantine, or worse, get sick herself. Those were just some of the risks inherent in her line of work. She couldn’t give in to the fear and worry now, not when there was so much on the line.

“Besides,” she continued, “it’s not like they’d forget about us. They’d do supply drops to keep us fed.”

Harold acknowledged the point with a nod. “That’s true.”

“And if they do shut things down, can you imagine the hazard pay I’d earn?” She winked at him, hoping to lighten the mood. It was nice of Harold to give her the option of refusal, but Avery couldn’t turn down this assignment. Identifying a new, virulent flu strain was the chance of a lifetime, and she wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines and let someone else do all the work.

Harold smiled and shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d say no, but I wanted to give you the choice all the same.”

“I appreciate it. Is it just me?”

“No, there will be three other people accompanying you—two nurses and a lab tech. I haven’t met any of them personally, but from what I hear they’re the best of the best.”

Avery nodded, pleased to hear about the reinforcements. If the situation was as dire as Harold believed, they’d need all the help they could get.

He stood, and Avery did the same. “I’ll get your itinerary sent over. You’ll fly to New Zealand first, and get set up with all the cold-weather gear you’ll need to survive the place.”

“Oh, good.” That was a load off her mind. The Centers for Disease Control was located in Atlanta, which wasn’t exactly known for winter weather. Avery didn’t think she had a coat that could handle a Chicago winter, much less the cold of Antarctica. “What about medical supplies?” Since the base hospital was handling everything, they probably needed a good restocking. “Can we get some antiflu drugs, too, just in case?”

Harold nodded. “Draw up a list of medications and supplies you want added to the manifesto. I’ll see that it gets sent to the correct people.”

“Thanks,” Avery said, already turning her attention back to her computer. She pulled up a blank document and started typing, knowing there was no time to waste.

Containment suits, scrubs, respirators, bleach... Not to mention all the equipment she’d need to set up a field lab.

Harold walked to the door, but before he opened it, he turned back to face her. “Avery,” he said, his voice serious.

She glanced up, tamping down a surge of impatience at the interruption. “Yes?”

“Be careful out there,” he said, his gray eyes solemn.

Avery nodded, taken aback by his warning. In the five years she and Harold had been working together, he’d never once told her to be careful. For him to say so now drove home just how worried he was about the situation, and Avery felt a small weight settle on her shoulders. This case was different, she could already tell. And not just because of the exotic location.

“I will,” she promised. “We’ll get this thing under control and I’ll be back here bugging you before you know it.”

He tried for a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I hope so,” he said. Then he opened the door and left, closing it softly behind him.

Three days later...

“Dr. Jones?”

The words drifted through the fog of fatigue that hung heavy over Grant’s mind. “Hmm?” Not his most eloquent response, but it was the best he could manage with his face half buried in the pillow.

“The plane’s landed.”

“M’kay.” The pillow was soft and cool under his cheek and he stretched, relishing the sensation of lying flat for the first time in days. He hadn’t caught more than a few snatches of sleep over the past week, and now that he’d managed to collapse on a bed he wasn’t going to get up unless the hospital was on fire.

And maybe not even then.

“Dr. Jones?”

“Hmm?” Now he felt a flash of irritation. Why was the nurse still here? She’d delivered her message—why couldn’t she just leave him in peace so he could lapse into the coma his body so desperately needed?

“The expert from the CDC is here and wants to meet you.”

Damn. He was going to have to get up after all.

“M’kay,” he muttered. He flipped onto his back, then brought his hands up to his eyes and rubbed vigorously. “I’ll be right there,” he called out, dismissing the messenger. She closed the door, leaving him alone again.

Grant forced himself to sit up, knowing that if he didn’t it would be all too easy to surrender to sleep once more. But since he was the chief doctor on-base, it was his responsibility to brief the reinforcements about the “situation,” as he’d come to think of it. He preferred that to the more inflammatory term outbreak.

Or apocalypse.

He stood and forced the exhausted hamster back on the rusty wheel in his brain. Caffeine. He needed caffeine—industrial quantities of it.

He stepped into the small adjacent bathroom and flipped on the lights, wincing at the sudden brightness. A dull throb started up behind his eyeballs, but he ignored it. He’d learned from experience that medication didn’t relieve his fatigue-induced headaches. Only sleep helped, and he wasn’t likely to get that anytime soon.

A glance in the mirror told him he looked as rough as he felt. Too bad there wasn’t time for a shower and shave—he certainly wasn’t going to make a good first impression with his hair sticking out and a weeks’ worth of stubble on his cheeks. He sighed, dismissing the issue. With everything else going on, he just couldn’t muster up the energy to care about his appearance.

He stepped out into the hall and started down the narrow corridor. Every inch of available room was crammed with stuff—supplies, medical records, bedsheets. They couldn’t afford to let any space go unused. When he’d first arrived, he felt claustrophobic and overwhelmed—how was he going to remember where anything was? But it hadn’t taken long for him to learn the system, such as it was, and now he navigated the apparent chaos with ease.

He walked to the main desk, which faced the entrance to the hospital, expecting to find the new arrivals clustered around the door. But the small entryway was empty, along with the nurse who was on reception duty. Where were they?

The sound of voices drifted down the other hall and he turned and set off, wondering what they were doing. Maybe one of the nurses was giving them a quick tour of the facility? And it would be quick—with only twenty beds, they weren’t exactly set up for the kind of cases they’d been getting lately. He shook his head, his mood sinking as it always did when he thought of the four patients he hadn’t been able to save...

Fortunately, most of the beds were empty now. After the initial set of ten patients, they’d settled into a lull, and there hadn’t been any new cases in the last three days. He hoped this was a sign the outbreak was over, but deep in his gut he worried it was only the beginning.

Despite the ten patients and four deaths, he knew they’d been incredibly lucky. Although this bug was nasty, it wasn’t very contagious. That was the only thing that had saved the base. If the virus or whatever it was figured out how to jump from person to person? This whole place would be wiped out within a week. It was the nightmare that kept him awake, trying to figure out what he could do protect the researchers and staff toiling away here at the bottom of the world.

He hadn’t protested when the base commander called the CDC for advice—he had his pride, but given the nature of this disease, he wasn’t about to turn down help, especially not from people who had tackled this sort of thing before. He just hoped the guy they’d sent out would be easy to work with—people were already stressed and on edge, wondering when the disease would strike again.

The voices were coming from the small bay that held the dentist’s chair and equipment. Dr. Farnly was their resident dentist, but he hadn’t seen much work recently. Grant poked his head around the corner and was shocked to find a small group of people moving dentistry supplies and equipment and setting up what looked like laboratory instruments.

The two women and two men moved around the space like they owned the place. He opened his mouth to protest, but his gaze caught on a blond ponytail and the words died in his throat.

Avery?

His brain rejected the idea almost immediately, but his heart took a little more convincing. Of course it wasn’t her—it couldn’t be. But this woman, whoever she was, had the same color hair—a warm, golden mix of honey, sunshine and corn silk that Avery had worn in long waves cascading down her back. How many hours had he spent running his hands over the soft strands, stroking it away from her face as she lay with her head in his lap, both of them enjoying the lazy days of summer back when they’d been college students and their biggest worry had been what to do on Friday night?

This woman shifted and something in his chest tightened, her graceful movements yet another reminder of the woman he’d once loved. He realized now with the gift of hindsight just how stupid he’d been. But it was too late to make amends. Avery had moved on with her life and she deserved better.

Fresh grief welled up, but Grant tamped it down. He missed Avery, would always miss her. But he couldn’t get bogged down in emotion now, not when so many people were counting on him to stay focused.

He shook his head to dispel the faint nostalgia that always appeared whenever he thought of Avery. He’d realized his mistake almost immediately after their breakup, and he’d spent days mired in the memories of their life together. But as the weeks and months had turned to years, he’d gotten better about keeping thoughts of her tucked away, only stopping to take them out and linger over them when he was alone. He certainly hadn’t meant to indulge now, in the middle of the hospital.

It was the fatigue, he decided. His defenses were down, which was why he’d been blindsided by the sight of a woman with long, blond hair. Time to meet this expert and head back to bed for a long-overdue nap.

“What is going on here?” The question came out a little harsher than he’d intended, his emotions still too close to the surface for his liking.

One of the nurses glanced over and stepped to his side. “It’s the CDC expert—they’re setting up a temporary lab.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. We don’t have the space for that!”

She shrugged and held up her hands in a kind of “what am I supposed to do about it?” gesture.

So much for the guy being easy to work with. He’d been here all of five minutes and was already reorganizing and repurposing space without asking permission. Grant eyed the small group, trying to pick out the man at the head of this little takeover.

“Who’s in charge here?” he asked, glancing back and forth between a tall, skinny man in a blue scrub top and a stockier blond guy in a Harvard sweatshirt. My money’s on Harvard, he thought, waiting for a reply.

“I am,” came a distinctly feminine voice.

A very familiar voice.

Oh, God. It’s not possible. Is it?

His heart beating double time in his chest, Grant turned and found Avery Thatcher staring at him, one eyebrow quirked up in that familiar, inquisitive expression he’d once loved. She stared at him for a moment, and he watched as her blue eyes flared wide in recognition. He couldn’t see her mouth because of the mask she wore, but he was willing to bet she was biting her bottom lip the way she always had when something bothered her.

“Grant?” She sounded almost as incredulous as he felt, and she tightened her grip on the clipboard she held, her knuckles going white under her skin.

A tsunami of words rose in his throat, all the things he should have said ten years ago now jostling and vying for expression. He swallowed hard. “Hello, Avery. Long time no see.” It was a lame greeting, but it was better than gawking at her like she was a ghost come back to life.

She was silent a moment, and Grant got the distinct impression Avery wanted nothing more than to turn her back on him and pretend he wasn’t there. But she was too much of a professional to let her personal desires get in the way of her job. “Grant,” she repeated evenly. “What a surprise.”

He tried to laugh to dispel the tension, but the sound came out as more of a strangled wheeze. “I know, right? Of all the gin joints in the world...” He trailed off and Avery smiled politely—he could see her cheeks move under the paper of the mask, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Indeed. So you’re the chief here?”

He cleared his throat, happy to change the subject. Besides, what could he say to make up for the past? It would take more than a few bad jokes to reach her now. “I am. I take it you’re the expert from the CDC?”

“I am,” she replied.

A fierce burst of pride came out of nowhere and made him want to hug her, but he knew better than to try it. Even when they’d been undergraduate students, Avery always wanted to be the best. She’d worked hard to rise to the head of their class, and thanks to her talent and determination, she’d had her pick of medical schools. It was no surprise that she was now at the top of her field.

A hint of sadness tinged the edges of his vision as he studied her. If he hadn’t been such a dumb kid, he would have been a part of her life all this time, would have celebrated her accomplishments with her. Instead he felt like a stranger, a realization made all the more painful, thanks to the closeness they’d once shared.

He deliberately turned his thoughts away from the past. “It’s not airborne,” he said, gesturing to her mask. “You don’t need that.” Her eyes were quite expressive, but he wanted to see the rest of her face so he could get a better idea of what she was thinking. Once upon a time he’d known all her expressions and had been able to practically see her thoughts based on how she held her mouth or lifted an eyebrow. Would he still be able to read her like that now?

Her eyes narrowed. “I was told the patients suffered extensive respiratory symptoms.”

“That’s true, but whatever is causing this disease doesn’t seem to be transmitted through the air. Why do you think I’m still alive?” His tone was light, but she didn’t smile.

She eyed him up and down, as if assessing the truth of his statement for herself. After a long moment, she lifted her hand and tugged the mask down, exposing her pert nose and full, pink lips to his gaze.

Grant felt the faint stirrings of desire as he stared at her mouth, remembering the feel of it against his own. Memories flooded his mind, assaulting his senses and overwhelming his thoughts. He fought to put them back in the box where they belonged, but in his sleep-deprived state, it was harder than usual to keep things under control. Desperate for a distraction, he cleared his throat. “What are you doing?” He gestured to the equipment being crammed cheek by jowl on the available counter space, and the boxes of what could only be lab supplies stacked on the floor.

Avery frowned slightly. “Setting up a field lab,” she replied in a tone that suggested this should be perfectly obvious. She glanced over to where a man was unpacking a box. “No, put the PCR machine next to the sequencer, please.” He nodded and moved to follow her instructions, and Avery turned back to Grant. “I was given a list of your lab equipment and brought some of my own to supplement it.”

Her presumption lit a spark of irritation in his chest, and he seized on the emotion, grateful for the change in his internal focus. “And you just thought you’d take over our dentist’s office?”

Avery glanced around the space, her expression making it clear she didn’t think too highly of that description. “It’s across the hall from your existing lab,” she pointed out reasonably. “It seemed like the best location, all things considered. And I was told you haven’t had a lot of demand for dentistry lately.”

It was true, but Grant still would have appreciated a heads-up before they’d taken over the space. “By all means,” he said dryly. “Make yourself at home, then.”

“Thanks.”

He stood there a moment, watching the men and women unpack. They moved quickly but competently, and as they worked he could see the organization of things take shape before his eyes. It was yet another example of the take-charge, can-do attitude Avery had always shown, no matter the circumstances.

Grant knew he should be relieved that reinforcements had arrived, but he still couldn’t shake his annoyance at the sense that things were spinning out of his control. Dealing with this strange outbreak had been difficult, and the deaths of four of his patients had made him feel powerless, a sensation he hated. Having to work with Avery, the woman he’d loved and lost, was just the icing on the cake of this crappy situation.

“I was told you wanted to meet with me?” His voice held a slight edge he didn’t bother to hide.

Avery glanced over at him, as if she’d forgotten he was standing there. “Yes. Do you have an office where we can talk?”

“Of course.” Truth be told, it was more of a broom closet than an office. But it was his space, and that was all that mattered.

She turned back and eyed the progress of her little group, apparently doing some mental calculations as to how much longer it would take them to finish setting up her domain. “Can I meet you there in half an hour?”

“Make it an hour,” he said. That would give him enough time to take a quick nap, which would reset his brain and allow him to shore up his defenses against the flood of memories her presence had unleashed.

“Great,” she said, sounding a little distracted. “See you then.”

Grant recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He turned and was surprised to feel a faint sense of anticipation as he walked away. He’d really screwed things up ten years ago, and she hadn’t hesitated to cut him out of her life. Despite all the reasons he shouldn’t care, it bothered him that their relationship had ended so badly. Part of him had always hoped to see her again, to try to make things right now that time had dulled the sting of his actions for both of them. And while he knew there was no way to repair all the damage he’d done, it would be nice if he and Avery could part company on good terms this time.

Provided they both made it out of here alive.

Chapter 2

Avery took a deep breath and placed a hand on her stomach to still the butterfly wings fluttering inside. Why was she nervous? She was a professional, for crying out loud. She’d successfully worked numerous outbreaks in many different settings, ranging from small, isolated towns to major cities, and everywhere in between. She knew what she was doing, and she did it well.

Why, then, did she feel like a rookie on her first assignment?

It could be because she was working with a new team. The nurses and lab tech who’d flown in with her weren’t new to outbreak work, but since Avery had met them all for the first time only a few days ago, she wasn’t sure how they would jell together. Everyone seemed nice enough now, but she knew from experience that once the real work began, the stress level increased and tempers rose to the surface. It would be up to her to keep the team focused, motivated, and feeling supported.

It was a tough job, but nothing she hadn’t done before. And in truth, she relished the challenge—it was part of what she loved about her work.

No, her jangling nerves had little to do with the task at hand and everything to do with the man she was on her way to see.

Grant Jones had clearly been surprised by her presence, and the feeling was entirely mutual. She closed her eyes, mentally adding up the time since she’d seen him last. Ten years, she realized with a small jolt. A lifetime ago.

She had to admit; the years had been kind to him. His light brown hair still held a bit of a curl; only now it was shot through with a few silver strands. He’d acquired fans of fine lines at the corners of his hazel eyes, but the arches of his cheekbones and his long, straight nose hadn’t changed. His mouth still held that hint of mischief, too, as if he was always thinking of some private joke.

She couldn’t say she’d missed him—he’d hurt her too badly for that. But now that she’d seen him once again, a small bud of curiosity began to bloom. What had his life been like over the past decade? Did he have a wife? Kids?

The thought of children was like a knife to her heart, and she quickly dismissed the idea. But her memories weren’t so quick to fade...

I’m pregnant.

Two little words, and yet they’d changed everything.

Avery looked down as she washed her hands in the small bathroom, but the chipped sink and unfamiliar surroundings faded as the memory of another bathroom took its place...

* * *

It was her senior year of college, and she and Grant had their future all mapped out. They were both going to medical school—even though they’d been accepted to different institutions, Grant was already planning to transfer to be with Avery during his second year. They’d get an apartment together, study together, support each other through the trials and tribulations of school. And then, when they’d both gotten their MDs, they’d get married and live happily-ever-after.

That was the plan, until halfway through the year when Avery came down with a stomach bug.

Except it wasn’t a normal illness. This one lingered for days, leaving her exhausted. Her stomach revolted every time she ate, giving her no choice but to spend a lot of time in the bathroom. For the second time that day, she knelt on the cold tile floor and wiped the sick off her lips with a wad of toilet paper.

Swallowing with a grimace, she stood and flushed the toilet, then made her way to the sink and reached for her toothbrush. Her gaze caught on the blue box of tampons on the counter and she frowned. How long had it been since she’d had to use them?

She searched her memory, her thoughts growing more frantic as she went further back in time. Her period was two—no, three—weeks late. Her heart in her throat, she skipped class and drove to the gas station across town. No way was she going to buy a pregnancy test at the campus general store—that would trigger all sorts of rumors she didn’t want to deal with. Ignoring the knowing smirk of the teenage boy who rang up her purchase, Avery raced back to her apartment and locked herself in the bathroom. She placed the stick on the counter and closed her eyes, counting silently as she waited for her fate to be revealed.

It was the longest two minutes of her life. Gathering up her courage, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

Two lines.

She was pregnant.

Her first thought was denial. This isn’t happening. She and Grant were always extra careful—she took her pill religiously every day, and they used condoms, too. The last thing either one of them wanted was a baby right now, not when they had such big plans. The test has to be wrong. It was the only explanation that made sense, and she clung to it like a drowning man given a life raft. Her body shaking, she took the second one. And then the third and final test in the box. Ten minutes later, she had to admit the truth.

The next few days passed in a blur. She went to class, pretended everything was okay. But inside she was numb, still trying to process this unexpected detour in her life’s plan. Gradually, though, the shock that had left her frozen thawed, and she began rewriting her blueprint for happiness. She and Grant would get married now, and she’d move out to California with him so he could start medical school. She’d delay her admission for a year and then begin her own program once the baby was a little older. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but they would make it work.

Her mind made up and a new plan in place, Avery decided it was time to tell Grant. She met him at the apartment he shared with two of his fraternity brothers, figuring it was better to break the news in private.

It went well, all things considered. Grant certainly wasn’t excited about the news, but he wasn’t angry, either. Looking back on it later, Avery realized his dominant emotion had been terror, which was understandable. But he’d put on a brave face and told her everything would be okay. Avery had left him after a few hours, knowing he needed some time alone to process the news.

She went to bed that night feeling hopeful, and for the first time she began to really wonder about the new life inside of her. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would it have her blue eyes, or Grant’s hazel-green? And what about names?

A few weeks later, she started bleeding.

Faint at first, but as the day wore on it got heavier. She called her ob-gyn, who told her this was normal for some women. The reassurance made her feel a little better, but she still worried. A few hours later, she started cramping.

She tried to call Grant, but he didn’t answer his phone. So she drove herself to the emergency room, and was alone when the doctor told her the news. Even today, Avery could still see his face when she closed her eyes. He was a young man, tall and lanky in green scrubs and wearing a white coat that was too big for his frame. He looked like a little boy wearing his father’s clothes, and Avery kept waiting for the real doctor to show up.

“I’m so sorry, miss,” he said, looking supremely uncomfortable. “But you’re having a miscarriage.”

The words stung, each one landing like a separate slap that left her reeling. She fought to hold back her tears, but it was no use. She broke down in the exam bay, the white curtain surrounding her bed doing nothing to muffle her sorrow from the rest of the ER. To his credit, the doctor didn’t leave. He walked over to the bed and held her hand, his touch bearing witness to her pain.

After what seemed like an eternity, Avery somehow managed to get herself home and curled up in a ball on the bed. She didn’t know how much time passed—didn’t really care. Her whole consciousness was turned inward, focused on the internal workings of her body and the heartbreaking events in progress...

* * *

The door hinges squeaked and Avery came back to the present with a little jump. She smiled at the woman who walked in and received a polite nod in return. Time to go, she thought, twisting off the faucet. She couldn’t very well continue to stand here, lost in bitter memories, now that she had company. Besides, she’d already spent too much time thinking about the past. Her shared history with Grant was painful, but she wasn’t going to let it affect her current job. And if the shock on his face was anything to go by, he didn’t really want to walk down memory lane, either. It seemed they were both on the same page, then. Focus on the problem at hand so they could each go their separate ways.

Avery stepped out into the hall and turned left. She could see the door to Grant’s office from here, and despite her resolve to remain professional at all times, her stomach flopped about like a landed fish. Part of her wanted badly to tell him off—to let him know in no uncertain terms how much pain he’d caused her. But another, more rational part recognized that was a bad idea. It just wasn’t worth the effort, and in the end it wouldn’t bring her the satisfaction she craved. Better for her to stop looking back. She couldn’t change the past, and if she got mired in memories she wouldn’t be able to work effectively.

Was Grant having the same problem? Likely not, she thought with a soft snort. Unless she missed her guess, he’d moved away after college and hadn’t looked back. And why would he? He’d dodged a bullet when she lost the baby—he’d made that much clear.

Avery shook her head, drawing deep inside herself for strength. She was going to walk into his office with her head held high and her shoulders back, and she’d keep her chin up for the duration of her stay here. She wasn’t about to let Grant know how much the past still haunted her after all these years. No, she was going to project the image of a calm, capable professional, not a woman forever changed by his actions.

And maybe after a while, she’d believe it herself.

* * *

Grant sat behind his desk and took a deep breath, his mind going a million miles a minute. What was he going to say to Avery? The shock of seeing her had begun to wear off, but he still wasn’t feeling terribly articulate. The last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing and increase the tension between them.

She definitely hadn’t been excited to see him. He recalled the look on her face when she’d realized it was him, and a sense of shame made his skin prickle. It was his fault Avery looked at him like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Once upon a time they’d meant the world to each other. But a few careless words had killed her feelings and ruined his chances of ever finding happiness with her again.

He thought he’d managed to put that painful episode of his life behind him, but seeing Avery brought it all back up again, and Grant was surprised to find the heartache was still fresh, ten years later.

So much for time healing everything.

Should he just start with an apology and get it over with? I’m sorry I said the miscarriage was for the best. Straight and to the point. No way for her to misinterpret his words. It was a hell of an opener, but maybe it was the best approach. When a patient had an infection he didn’t hesitate to use aggressive treatments. This wound had festered between them for far too long—perhaps it was time to air things out and start the healing.

Or maybe not.

Avery had always been a stickler for rules and protocol. She probably wouldn’t appreciate him bringing up the past, especially since she was here in a professional capacity. It was one thing to talk about their shared history over a beer, quite another to discuss it as part of an outbreak investigation. It might be better for him to ignore the past and focus solely on current events.

Besides, it was entirely possible Avery had moved on with her life and no longer carried the burden of her loss.

Not likely, he thought, dismissing the prospect almost immediately. Avery wasn’t the type to pretend something hadn’t happened. Grant could still remember the look in her eyes, that haunted, hopeless grief eating her up from the inside... He shuddered, and goose bumps broke out along his arms. No, he did not think Avery had gotten over the loss of the baby.

But maybe she had found someone new and started a family. The thought filled him with equal parts pleasure and dismay. Grant would never wish for her to be unhappy, but the idea that she’d moved on with her life stung, especially since he certainly hadn’t.

He’d dated a few women over the years, but his heart really hadn’t been in it. He made a point of warning the women up front that he was not the marrying kind, but they always seemed to take it as a challenge, like they would be the one to change his mind. The experience left a bad taste in his mouth, and so he’d chosen to remain single rather than break someone else’s heart.

Had Avery been wearing a ring? He closed his eyes, trying to remember. But all he could recall was her face, those bright blue eyes growing cold when she realized who he was...

Grant shook his head to clear the memory and focused on his immediate problem. What should he say to her? He glanced at his watch, and his heart kicked hard against his breastbone. She was going to be here any minute, and he still had no idea how to talk to her.

A knock on the door told him he’d run out of time. He’d just have to wing it, and let her take the lead. No matter what had happened between them, they had to work together now. He wasn’t going to be the reason this investigation failed.

“Come in.”

The door swung open and he stood to greet her, gesturing for her to take the seat across from him. “Sorry it’s so crowded,” he said as she maneuvered into the small space. The room was a narrow rectangle, carved out from the slightly larger staff break room. Grant’s desk sat at the far end, opposite the door. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed full of texts on every conceivable medical subject. It was a testament to the preinternet days when a base physician needed access to information on a wide variety of conditions. As Grant had already learned, there was no telling what might walk through the door.

Avery glanced around, taking it all in as she moved forward. Her eyes landed on the cot shoved to one side of the room, topped with a tangle of sheets. She quickly looked away again, and Grant felt a sudden stab of embarrassment. Why hadn’t he thought to make the bed? She probably thought he’d turned into a slob.

“It’s cozy,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a half smile as she sat. Grant did the same and promptly forgot how to breathe when she leaned forward to pull something out of the bag she’d set at her feet. The V of her scrub top gaped open, giving him an unobstructed view of her lovely attributes. His face heated and he turned his head, looking for something—anything—else to focus on while he willed his body’s response to go away. Of all the inconvenient times to be reminded of her as a woman... Dozens of memories rushed in, overwhelming him with visions of them together. His hands on her. Her hands on him. Her mouth—He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, then eyed the bottle of water on his desk. Would it be too obvious if he dumped the contents into his lap?

“Everything okay over there?”

Grant glanced back to find Avery watching him, a curious expression on her face. Damn. He was going to have to be more careful about controlling his reactions around her. Thanks to their shared past, she could tell when something was bothering him.

“I’m good,” he said. “Just had a little tickle in my throat.” He unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and took a healthy swig to lend more credence to the lie.

She nodded, apparently accepting his answer.

“How have you been?” Grant asked. He knew she’d probably rather talk about the outbreak, but he wasn’t going to be able to focus until he knew more about her life and what she’d been up to in the last decade.

“Just fine, thanks.” She kept her head down, flipping through the notebook in her lap.

“That’s good.” He paused, but when she didn’t speak again he forged ahead. “I guess you live in Atlanta?” That was the location of the CDC’s headquarters, so it stood to reason she’d live there.

“Yes.” She continued to flip pages, the rustle of paper the only sound in the room.

“Ah, apartment or house?” he asked, needing to fill the awkward silence.

Avery apparently found her place in the notebook and looked up. “Apartment. Look, Grant. I appreciate the chitchat, but let’s just get down to business, shall we?”

“Sure,” he said, nodding in agreement. “I’m just glad to see you’re okay.”

She smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m great. You look fine, too. And now that we’ve established that, I think we’ll both be better off if we focus on the outbreak.”

She was right, of course. And really, he should be relieved that she didn’t want to spend time going over their past. But part of him was disappointed—how was he going to apologize if she didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room?

“What can you tell me about this outbreak?”

“It started two weeks ago,” he replied automatically, shoving aside his personal concerns. There would be time enough to chat later, once he’d hopefully figured out how to broach the subject. “The first two patients presented on the same day, a few hours apart.”

“Can you tell me about their symptoms?”

“Low-grade fever, congestion, mild cough. Typical upper respiratory stuff. It’s the kind of thing that cycles through here on a regular basis, so I gave them the usual treatment and sent them on their way.”

“And then what happened?” Her pen flew across the paper as he talked, taking notes on everything he said.

“The rest of the patients presented in the same way over the next two days. I put out a notice, reminding everyone to focus on hand-washing, cover coughs and sneezes, that kind of thing. But I didn’t realize anything was wrong until the third day.”

Avery pulled another piece of paper from her bag and consulted it. “That’s when Patient Zero came back?” she asked, referring to the first patient.

“Yes,” Grant confirmed. “And he looked like death warmed over.”

One of Avery’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that your official clinical opinion, Doctor?” There was the slightest hint of amusement in her voice—not enough for a stranger to register, but Grant picked up on it. He gave her a little smile of acknowledgment and was gratified to see her own mouth curve up slightly in response.

“Indeed,” he replied solemnly. “Fever of one hundred and five degrees, productive cough, bloody mucus. Not to mention, his eyes were bloodshot—he’d ruptured the capillaries from coughing so hard.”

Avery grimaced. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah.” Grant shook his head, remembering that sick feeling in his gut he’d gotten when the man had stumbled back in. “And to top it off, he said his pain was an eight on a scale of one to ten.”

“What did you do?”

“Started him on a febrifuge and pain meds. His chest sounded crackly, so I ordered a chest X-ray. Came back almost entirely whited out.”

Avery’s eyebrows lifted. “There was that much fluid in his lungs?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll get you the medical records for all the patients so you can see the results for yourself. But essentially he was drowning in what I later learned was blood.”

It was a sight he’d never forget, a scene from a horror movie burned into his brain, made all the more terrifying because it had really happened. The man’s cough had grown steadily worse, and two hours after his admission, he’d begun to gag. They’d rushed to clear his airway only to find a rising swell of blood trying to escape. As he suffocated before their eyes, the team had flipped him onto his side. A torrent of blood had gushed out in a wet splatter on the floor, and a hot, metallic stench had filled the air.

Grant swallowed, clearing the memory of the smell from his tongue. “He died a few hours later,” he said softly. It always rankled to lose a patient, but it was doubly hard here. There was a finite number of people on the base, and Grant had made it a point to introduce himself to everyone. Even though he hadn’t known the man well, he did remember exchanging pleasantries with him whenever their paths had crossed.

Avery was silent for a moment. “It sounds like a very difficult case,” she said, a note of sympathy in her voice.

Grant nodded. She understood. Even though Avery didn’t practice medicine anymore, she was still a doctor and would have lost patients in med school. There were some cases that stuck with you, and Grant knew the death of the four men in this outbreak would haunt him for years to come.

“After he died, I tracked down the other patients who had presented with the same initial symptoms. I hoped this was just a one-off, but unfortunately, three others progressed too rapidly for us to save. I wanted to send the other six to South America for treatment, but my request was denied.” He shoved a hand through his hair and tried to keep the bitterness from his tone. “As soon as people heard what this thing does, they refused to take them. Didn’t want to risk it spreading.”

If he looked at the situation dispassionately, Grant understood the decision. Better to contain the pathogen here, where there were a finite number of potential victims. If this thing spread into the wider world, it could be a species-ending infection. But Grant hadn’t had the benefit of detachment. He’d touched those people, held their hands, comforted them as best he could. It was personal for him, and he was still angry his patients had been left to the mercy of a medical center that wasn’t equipped to handle this kind of disease.

Could the four victims have been saved if they’d made it to a larger hospital? It was a question that would undoubtedly dog him for a long time...

“I heard,” Avery said, a note of sympathy in her voice. “For what it’s worth, I think it was a crappy thing to do.”

He jerked one shoulder up. “Fortunately, we caught the other six before they bled out into their lungs. They got pretty sick, but at least they’re not dead.”

“What kind of drugs did you use on the ones who survived?”

Grant leaned back and ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling through pursed lips. “What didn’t we try is the better question. I pumped them full of anything I thought might help—steroids, antivirals, antibiotics, epinephrine, versed, Plasma-Lyte, albumin—you name it, I tried it.”

“Do you have any idea if one of the drugs was responsible for saving the other patients?”

He shook his head. “At that point, I was just trying to keep them alive. I don’t know if it was the combination of the medication, the supportive care or the fact that we caught them early enough that allowed them to survive.”

“Probably all three factors,” Avery said. She laid her notebook on his desk and set her pen down, then leaned back and met his eyes. “It sounds like you did a hell of a job.”

Her praise washed over him like warm summer rain, and he wanted to close his eyes and savor the feeling. He had always respected her opinion, and it meant a lot to know that she thought his actions had been appropriate. “Thank you,” he murmured.

There was a flash of warmth in her eyes, there and gone in the space between heartbeats. “You say there have been no new cases in the past three days?” she asked, getting them back on track.

“No. At least, no one has come to me with symptoms.”

“And none of the staff that treated the patients have been affected?”

“No. I think we really dodged a bullet here. Whatever this thing is, it doesn’t seem to be very contagious. Otherwise, the whole base would have come down with it by now.”

Avery tilted her head to the side, apparently considering his words. “Possibly,” she said. “But we don’t know what the incubation period is. For all we know, more people have already been infected but haven’t started to show symptoms yet.”

A cold chill washed over Grant as the implications of her suggestion sank in. “My God,” he whispered. “This thing could be a ticking time bomb.”

“Let’s hope not,” Avery replied, her mouth set in grim lines.

“What do we do now?” That helpless feeling was starting to creep up on him and he pushed it away. They would come up with a plan, and it would work. It had to work. The alternative was unthinkable.

Avery sighed quietly. “I’d like to look at the patient files for all the cases. We need to identify common behaviors or exposures that might tell us something about where they picked up the agent. Do you have any samples we can analyze to try to identify the pathogen?”

“I think there are some blood samples left, but I don’t know what state they’re in now.”

“That’s fine.” She waved away his concern. “The tech I brought has a reputation as a miracle worker. We’ll see if she can find anything.”

“What can I do?” Grant wasn’t going to just sit on his hands while they worked. He would go mad if he didn’t have something to do, some way to contribute to the investigation. Even though he’d only been on-base a few months, he felt a sense of ownership of the place. Not in a material way. But this was his home for the next few months, and these were his people. It was his responsibility to take care of them, and he’d already failed four times. Logically, he understood those deaths were not his fault. His internal scorekeeper saw things differently, though, and he felt a strong need to redouble his efforts. Perhaps he could somehow make up for their deaths by saving others.

Avery eyed him across the desk, her expression assessing him as if she was trying to determine what he could handle. “First of all, I need you to get some sleep. You’re no good to me exhausted.”

He couldn’t stop the laugh that rose in his throat at her unexpected order. “That obvious, huh?”

“Quite.” She gathered her notebook and pen and stood, and Grant rose to his feet, as well. “Come find me after you wake up.”

He waited until she got to the door before asking the question burning in his mind. “Can we stop this thing?”

Avery paused and glanced at him over her shoulder. “If we’re lucky,” she said, suddenly sounding as tired as he felt. Then she walked out of his office, closing the door softly behind her.

Chapter 3

“I have results.” Paul glanced around out of habit, but there was no one nearby to eavesdrop on his conversation. Still, it didn’t hurt to be cautious...

“I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath, feeling very much like he was about to step out onstage in front of a roomful of people. Would his contact be impressed with his results? Were his findings dramatic enough?

Only one way to find out...

“I was able to infect ten people. All became symptomatic, and four died within forty-eight hours after showing signs of illness.”

“What about the other six?”

“They survived. But I’m not sure if they suffered permanent damage. I haven’t been able to see them yet.”

The man on the other end of the line made a noncommittal sound, and Paul felt his stomach clench. I did what you asked. What more do you want from me?

He heard a muffled noise and imagined the man had placed his hand over the receiver, likely so he could talk to someone nearby. A few seconds later, he was back.

“It is not enough.”

Despair washed over Paul and he put a hand against the wall to steady himself. “What do you mean?” he asked softly.

“We need more information. You must infect additional people.”

“But...” He stopped, knowing his protest would fall on deaf ears.

Apparently, his reluctance came through loud and clear. “Now is not the time to back away,” his contact said, a note of steel in his voice. “Finish the job, or your family will suffer for your incompetence.”

It was the first time they’d explicitly threatened his family. He’d known it was coming, but a sense of bone-deep terror gripped him nonetheless. Not for the first time, he kicked himself for getting involved with this group in the first place. The promise of financial security was not worth the cost, but he’d been too desperate at the time to recognize it.

“Very well.” There was no other acceptable answer, and they both knew it.

“We have arranged for you to have some assistance.”

“What?” He couldn’t hide his incredulity. How was that even possible? He wasn’t aware of any incoming flights scheduled in the near future, so how on earth were they going to bring someone in? Unless they were already on-base...

Just how many people were working for this shadowy organization? And did they all have the same mission? His mind spun with possibilities and questions, but he knew better than to ask.

“He will reveal himself to you soon. I think you will find him quite helpful.”

“Excellent,” he lied. Any “assistance” was likely a spy in disguise, sent to make sure he complied with his orders. It was just another subtle tightening of the noose wrapped round his neck.

“Report back in a week. We look forward to hearing your progress.”

There was a click followed by the loud drone of a dial tone. Paul tucked his phone back into his pocket and rubbed his hands together, chafing some warmth back into his frozen fingers. It was cold in the storage room. Hell, it was cold everywhere.

Seven days. That didn’t give him much time. Frustration gnawed its way up his chest, filling him with the urge to hit something. Every time he did what the Organization asked, they told him it wasn’t enough. They kept moving the goalposts on him, making it impossible for him to meet their expectations. It was enough to drive him insane. If this was a normal situation, he’d simply walk away. But nothing about this was normal, and Paul knew if he burned this bridge, he wouldn’t be the one to pay the price. The kids had already been through so much. He couldn’t risk them—not now, not ever.

He closed his eyes, seeing the faces of the ten men he’d infected. Nice people, all of them. Friendly and decent, the kind who probably had families of their own back home. Paul’s heart tightened at the thought and a swell of regret surged, threatening to drown him. What had he done?

Needing a distraction, he grabbed his phone and pulled up the most recent picture of his family. There they were, all smiling into the camera, squinting a bit thanks to the sun. Noah was getting so tall, and the dark shadow of a sprouting mustache on his upper lip drove home the fact that his son was no longer a little boy. His younger daughter, Lisa, still had a bit of baby fat clinging to her slight frame, but he could see the promise of the woman she would become in the slope of her brow and the angle of her jaw. They were growing up so fast. And while he hated knowing he had killed four men, he consoled himself with the knowledge that they were adults who had lived their lives. It was a hard thing he had done, but he couldn’t let his sympathy for relative strangers outweigh the promise of his children’s future.

One week, he thought grimly. Time to go back to work.

* * *

Avery glanced at her travel alarm clock for what felt like the millionth time that night. While she normally didn’t have trouble falling asleep in a new place, she was too keyed up to relax right now. She was itching to dive into the investigation and figure out what exactly was going on at this frozen research base. If this really did turn out to be a new strain of influenza, then her work would go down in medical history, right up there with the men and women who had studied the Ebola virus or HIV. It was an exciting thought, and she allowed herself a moment to imagine how this case could push her into the upper echelons of her field.

Part of her recognized how strange it was to be so excited about a disease, and such a nasty one at that. She truly didn’t want anyone to suffer, and she felt bad for the families of the four people who had already died. But she knew the best way to honor the patients who had lost their lives was to dive in and figure out how to keep others from sharing their fate.

And if the work went well and she happened to wrap things up quickly? That would be the icing on the cake.

Seeing Grant again had been unnerving, to say the least. She felt like a snow globe that had been violently shaken, her previously settled emotions all stirred up and swirling around like so many white flakes. It was frustrating to revisit a period in her life she’d thought was over. She’d worked hard to process her grief at losing the baby and the pain of their breakup. Slowly, but surely, she’d put the pieces of her heart back together and had moved on, always looking forward, never daring to look back for fear she would get sucked into the black hole of despair again. Escaping it once had been hard enough—she didn’t think she would get so lucky a second time.

Now, thanks to the emotional upheaval Grant had triggered, she was forced to question if she’d really dealt with her past at all, or simply ignored it long enough that the pain was no longer so fresh. After all, if she’d truly gotten over the losses, seeing Grant shouldn’t have such a powerful effect on her.

She flipped onto her back with a sigh and burrowed under the down comforter, grateful for the warmth in the chilly room. It was the shock factor, she decided. That was why he’d gotten under her skin again. If she’d known he was here, she could have mentally and emotionally prepared herself to see him. Instead she’d been blindsided by his sudden appearance and hadn’t had time to throw up any mental buffers. Now she knew what to expect.

She closed her eyes, determined to get at least some sleep tonight. But her brain wouldn’t cooperate. Question after question popped into her mind, preventing her from relaxing. And to her great dismay, most of her curiosity was focused on Grant. Had seeing her again affected him the same way? Did he ever think about her and the baby she’d lost? Or had he jumped into another relationship and put her out of his mind and heart completely?

The thought stung and she blinked hard against the prickle of incipient tears. “Stop it,” she muttered, taking a deep breath and harnessing her emotions. Grant’s private life wasn’t any of her business, and she needed to remember that. Still, she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger... Did that mean he was single?

Doesn’t matter, she told herself firmly. She was here to do a job, not reconnect with her old flame. They’d had their chance once. No need to make the same mistake again.

If only she could get her body to understand that.

While her mind was busy dealing with unwanted and unwelcome memories, the rest of her had suffered no such troubles. No matter what had happened in the ten years they’d been apart, Grant still looked very much the same. He was a little leaner, a little harder maybe, but those broad shoulders, hazel eyes and long nose hadn’t changed. As soon as she’d seen him her body perked up, all the nerve endings coming to life and making her feel like a live wire.

Being so close to him in his office hadn’t helped, either. The small room had smelled like him, that familiar combination of soap and a hint of spice that she knew from experience was the scent of his skin. Once upon a time, the smell of him had been enough to make her weak in the knees. She was less affected by it now, but it still made her stomach do a little flip.

Just ignore it. She couldn’t allow herself to see Grant as a man, or else she would make the mistake of wanting him again. And that was a distraction she simply couldn’t afford.

Of course, it was easy to tell herself she was going to keep things professional. Quite another to actually follow through. Especially since she had firsthand knowledge of what it was like to be with him... She felt a phantom caress on her thigh and recognized it as the ghost of his touch from long ago. They had been very good together, a fact that her body was all too keen to point out. The few men she had gone on to date after Grant had been nice enough, but they hadn’t been him. And even though he’d broken her heart, he was still the standard to which she compared them all. It wasn’t fair or logical, but feelings generally weren’t, particularly where he was concerned.

What she wouldn’t give to talk to Olivia or Mallory right now! Her two best friends knew her history with Grant and would know just what to say to help her deal with this unexpected complication. She reached for her phone, trying to calculate the time difference between Antarctica and Washington, DC, where Olivia Sandoval lived. Would her call wake Olivia up?

“Probably,” she muttered, setting the phone back down. Besides, at this time of night, Olivia was likely snuggled up with her fiancé, Logan. They’d been neighbors for a few years, but things had really developed between them during Olivia’s most recent medical charity trip to Colombia. In a bizarre turn of events, a drug cartel had tried to blackmail Olivia into smuggling cocaine back into the United States. Desperate, Olivia had turned to Logan for help. He and his colleagues at the DEA had hatched a plan to outmaneuver the cartel, and fortunately, their gamble had paid off.

Avery still couldn’t get over Olivia’s stories, and she was so glad Logan had been there to keep her safe. Even though she hadn’t met the man yet, she had spoken to him over the phone. He seemed like a genuinely good guy, and she’d never heard Olivia sound so happy before.

Avery didn’t want to dampen Olivia’s joy with her own sob story, so that left her other best friend, Mallory Watkins. Mallory was a little tougher to get in touch with, thanks to her job as ship’s doctor for a major cruise line. It was probably for the best—if she actually spoke to Mallory, it would be too difficult to hide where she was and why. And since Harold had cautioned her to keep the investigation quiet, she probably shouldn’t tell anyone off-base about it. But Mallory did always respond to emails...

Avery grabbed her phone again, squinting as she stabbed at the maddeningly tiny letters with her fingertip. It took forever, but she managed to type out the most important details, namely that Grant was here and she didn’t know how to deal with him. She pressed Send and leaned back, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. Of the three of them, Mallory was the most practical. She’d have the perfect advice for dealing with this situation.

Now Avery just had to find a way to pass the time until she responded.

Sleep would be the best choice, but her mind refused to cooperate. Now that she had sent Mallory her worries about Grant, she was free to focus on the details of the investigation. And even though her limbs felt heavy with fatigue, Avery knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d at least looked at the patient records. The pathogen was still out there, and she couldn’t afford to waste any time. Too many lives were at stake.

She sat up and reached out to flip on the small lamp located on the night table, then kicked the blankets off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Even though she was wearing sweatpants and thick socks, the air in the room was still too cold for her liking. She had cranked the heater in the small, dorm-style room as high as it would go, but she was so used to the warmth of Georgia that the lingering chill in the air was enough to make her shiver. Eyeing the stack of folders sitting on the narrow desk opposite the bed, she decided working under the covers was the only way to stay warm.

“How do these people stay here for months on end?” she muttered. It hadn’t been a full twenty-four hours yet, and she already felt like a Popsicle. She couldn’t imagine staying for months, the way most of the researchers did. But she might have to do just that if it turned out there was a new strain of influenza here. Better to be a little cold than risk introducing this disease into the wider world. Still, she hoped it didn’t come to that.

She grabbed the folders and snuggled back under the blankets. It wasn’t worth wasting energy worrying about a possibility that might not happen. First, she had to isolate and identify the bug. Then they could deal with the repercussions, whatever they may be.

It only took a few minutes for Avery to get sucked into the work, her tiredness and concerns about Grant fading into the background as she lost herself in the clinical language of the medical records. There was a lot of information in the files, including detailed descriptions of symptoms, medications administered and patient responses. She was immediately struck by the severity of the symptoms and the rapid speed of decline for some of the patients. Avery was used to the realities of diseases, but even the dry, dispassionate medical vocabulary couldn’t disguise the horror of what these patients had suffered. Whatever this pathogen was, it didn’t pull any punches.

But where had it come from? Pathogens didn’t just materialize out of thin air. If this really was a new strain of influenza, her best bet was to look at the birds of Antarctica. Normally, such viruses circulated through migratory bird populations such as geese and other waterfowl, and in urban settings it was often found in chickens and pigs. But none of those creatures lived on this continent, which meant she’d have to go beyond the normal understanding of the virus. Antarctica had penguins. Was it possible the virus was native to those birds?

The more she considered the idea, the more it made sense. Penguins were an isolated group—since there wasn’t a lot of regular human interaction, the virus might have been circulating through the population for years before making the jump to a hapless researcher. And if the virus didn’t cause disease in the birds themselves, no one would think to make a connection between a sick researcher and his study subjects...

Her fingers flying, Avery flipped through the medical records, searching for background information on each patient. The first page of each file was a basic biographical sketch, and she skimmed through them all, hoping to find that at least one patient was a biologist of some kind who interacted with penguins or any other type of bird on Antarctica.

A moment later, she leaned back with a sigh, disappointment settling in her stomach like a small lead weight. None of the patients appeared to have had contact with any type of wildlife, at least not according to their histories. The patients ranged from astrophysicists to support staff, and the one thing they had in common was that their job duties were all localized on-base. Since Antarctica wasn’t exactly teeming with points of interest, it was unlikely any of the men had ventured away from the comforts of civilization. How, then, had they become infected?

A biologist could still be involved, she mused. Perhaps someone had contracted the virus and exhibited a mild infection, or no symptoms at all. It wasn’t unheard of for some pathogens to remain quiet in a host, effectively turning a person into a silent spreader of the disease—Typhoid Mary, the woman who had unwittingly spread typhoid fever throughout New York City in the early 1900s, was perhaps the most famous example of this phenomenon. But given the severity of symptoms displayed by the ten patients, she rather doubted that was the case here. This virus—if it really was a virus causing the infections—seemed incredibly aggressive. Based on the medical records, this appeared to be more of a scorched-earth type of pathogen rather than a live-and-let-live bug.

“So we have a dangerous, unknown pathogen on the hunt for new hosts and a base full of potential victims,” she muttered. “What could possibly go wrong?”

And who else is infected? It was tempting to think that three days without a new patient meant the outbreak was over, but Avery refused to fall into that trap. Without knowing the incubation period of this pathogen, she had no way to determine if other people had been infected and had yet to develop symptoms. Even the virulence of the pathogen didn’t necessarily provide any clues. Until she knew the identity of the pathogen, it might be better to assume more patients were forthcoming. She made a mental note to talk to Grant about it in the morning—perhaps they could put out a base-wide notice, informing people to come to the hospital at the first sign of illness no matter how mild the symptoms. Better to be inundated with cases of a seasonal cold than miss one or two patients with a more serious condition...

Stifling a yawn, Avery rubbed her eyes and rested her head against the frame of the bed. She should really try to get some sleep if she wanted to be at all useful tomorrow. It was tempting to spend the night working, but logically she knew she had reached the limits of what she could accomplish with the information she had. Tomorrow she’d interview the surviving patients and talk to Jennifer, the lab technician, about any preliminary results she’d obtained.

And as for Grant?

She shook her head, frustration rising as she pictured his face, still handsome after all these years. It wasn’t fair that he looked good to her now, in spite of everything that had happened between them.

But the thing that bothered her the most was the hold he retained on her. One of the things Avery liked best about her job was the logic behind it—disease outbreaks had a cause, and by working methodically, she could usually identify the source and respond accordingly. No emotion required. But the situation with Grant wasn’t like that. He complicated things, made her feel when she didn’t want to. No matter how much she wished otherwise, he’d gotten under her skin again.

She just couldn’t let him know.

* * *

“Higher, Daddy!”

Grant smiled and gave a little push, just enough to make the swing rise a few more inches. His little girl was turning out to be quite the daredevil, and while he appreciated her sense of adventure, he couldn’t shake the ever-present fear that it was going to get her hurt someday. He knew he couldn’t protect her forever, but he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet...

She laughed, and the joyous sound burrowed into his chest and made his heart swell. She was so perfect he ached every time he looked at her. With her long blond hair and bright blue eyes, she was the very picture of her mother. But he was in there, too—she had his nose, and he recognized his stubborn streak in some of her more difficult moments. His daughter was a force to be reckoned with, and he knew without a doubt she was going to change the world.

She’d definitely changed his world.

“Can I go on the slide now?”

She let her feet trail along the ground, slowing the arc of the swing with each pass. Without waiting for his response, she launched herself from the seat as the swing made another upward trek, her long, lean body flying through the air, hair trailing behind her like a golden kite. His heart shot into his throat as he watched her come down, his arms already reaching for her, though he was too far away.

He needn’t have worried. She landed on her feet, graceful as a cat. She shot him a triumphant grin he recognized all too well, then took off for the slide, confident he would follow.

“Grant!”

He turned to find Avery standing at the fence. He waved, and she gestured for him to come to her. The slide was only a few feet away, so he walked over to meet Avery, wondering why she didn’t just come into the playground to talk to him.

He was halfway to the fence when he heard his daughter’s cry. “Daddy!”

The panic in her voice froze his blood and he whirled around, his eyes scanning the area for her. Gray mist rose from the ground, shrouding the playground and turning the once-bright day into a realm of shadows.

She screamed again, this time in pain. Grant ran over to the slide, but she wasn’t there. She began to sob, the wrenching cries filling his ears and tearing out his guts. He searched the playground, trying to wave away the fog as he moved from one station to the next. But there was no sign of her. Desperation clawed up his spine as he explored, and he had the sudden, horrible thought that she was gone.

Still, her words echoed all around, calling out to him as he moved. Where was she? Why couldn’t he see her?

“Grant!”

Avery’s voice cut through their daughter’s cries. He turned back to the fence to find Avery clutching the little girl to her chest, one hand on her head, the other supporting her body. Avery’s eyes bored into him, bright and accusing. What had he done? He took a step toward them, but she jerked back, taking their daughter with her.

“No,” he said, reaching out for them. “Please, let me see her.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. For every step he took, Avery retreated, carrying the little girl farther and farther away. He stopped moving, but Avery didn’t. She held his gaze as she continued to back up, her pace measured and unhurried. Grant could only stand there, helpless, as the two people he loved most in the world were swallowed up by the swirling fog.

Just before they vanished from sight, his daughter turned to look at him. Even from a distance, he could see the tear tracks on her cheeks, and his heart clenched with the need to touch her, to soothe her worries and make everything okay again. The look she gave him was one of confusion, as if she was trying to figure out who he was and why he was standing there. She opened her mouth, and the wind carried her whispered question back to him.

“Daddy?”

* * *

Grant shot up in bed with a gasp, his arms outstretched, reaching for the little girl who wasn’t there.

Had never been there.

His breath gusted out in a loud sigh and he lay down again, the pillow damp against the skin of his neck. He kicked the covers off, welcoming the relief of the cool air on his sweaty body. The dream lingered like a greasy film on his skin, a coating that covered him from head to toe in a claustrophobic embrace.

This wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed about Avery and their child. Sometimes he saw her holding a baby. Other times, the child was older, like tonight’s encounter. But he always pictured a girl.

There was no way to tell if the baby had been a girl or a boy—the miscarriage had happened too early in the pregnancy for them to know the sex. But deep in his heart, Grant thought it was a daughter they had lost.

And it was their loss.

He didn’t pretend to know what it had been like for Avery. He could imagine how she had felt: the pain, both physical and emotional, knowing the life inside her was dying. At the time, he’d still been adjusting to the news that she was pregnant. He hadn’t yet formed any kind of attachment. But she had. And he’d known from the look in her eyes that she’d lost a piece of her soul along with the baby.

It had taken him longer to feel the ache. At first, he’d been so overcome with the pain of losing Avery that he hadn’t really thought about the miscarriage. But the knowledge of it had stayed with him, quietly eating away at his heart like water dripping on a stone.

In his darker moments, he liked to torture himself with thoughts of what their daughter would have been like. It would have been her tenth birthday this year. There would have been a party, of course, complete with cake and balloons. He could picture it now, Avery carrying in the frosted confection, topped with two rows of glowing candles. Mary—he’d always liked the name Mary—would lean forward, closing her eyes tight to make a wish before blowing out the candles. It would have been a wonderful day, full of laughter and love. The kind of day he hadn’t had in...well, forever, it seemed.

Did Avery ever think about the what-ifs? Of course she did, he realized immediately, shaking his head at the absurdity of the question. How could she not? But did the road not taken haunt her like it did him, or had she made her peace with the future they’d never have?

Part of him wished he could make the dreams stop. They weren’t regular enough to be considered recurring, but every time he had one it stayed with him for weeks, casting his life in shadow. It didn’t take a shrink to figure out why he’d had one tonight. Should he tell Avery? Would she forgive him if she knew he hadn’t just walked away and forgotten about the baby? How would she respond if she knew he regretted the loss of their child every day?

I’ll tell her tomorrow. He didn’t want to upset her by bringing up painful memories, but his pride demanded he try to make her understand that he wasn’t the callous bastard she’d thought him to be all these years. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he wanted her to acknowledge his pain, to consider that maybe, just maybe, she’d underestimated him then.

It wouldn’t change the past, but it might help him sleep better at night.

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