Page 70 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“Cuvée,” he finalized.

“Same ole Chem. Nothing more to say,” she teased, entering his drink on the small handheld device she’d been holding.

“You’ve said enough. When you return, either shut the fuck up or direct another server to our table, Taylor Finlen.”

Her eyes grew three times their size. I wasn’t sure if it was the revealing of her full name that he’d obviously remembered or his request that had her scurrying from the table without my drink order. I didn’t mind. The water that was waiting would suffice. I peeled the paper from the straw and submerged it. Before it could hit the bottom, I was halfway through the glass.

“I need to use the ladies’ room,” I announced, catching my breath once I’d finished three-fourths of the water.

I didn’t wait for a response. I was up out of my seat in a flash, heading down the hallway and through the restaurant. Because I’d never been inside the prestigious establishment, I had no idea where I was headed, but I was determined I’d find my way.

I didn’t need assistance. I needed fresh air. Because I didn’t want to make a run for it, the restroom would suffice–for now.

Oh God.

This is all bad.

Hot flashes made me feel like I was drowning in a pool of sweat. The walls of the restaurant were getting tighter, and closer. My throat burned though I’d just had almost a full glass of water. My thoughts were jumbled. The knots in my stomach locked, squeezing it for dear life. Panic had set in and it was taking me for a ride.

This can’t be happening.

What are the fucking odds?

I grew ill. It was all beginning to make sense. How I hadn’t pieced the puzzle together before now was baffling. I was blinded by his charm. His sophistication. His, everything.

“The Chemist –our number one subject. The initial target. The big guy. With him in our custody, the rest of this empire will crumble. Nothing moves unless he moves it. We’re certain of it. According to his profile, he is arrogant. Calculated. He lacks remorse and empathy. He is someone who has impeccable schooling.

“A scholar. He’s possibly the head of a major pharmaceutical company, fucking drug administration board member, or something. The bottom line is, he’s into drugs. The science of it all. He’s a fucking genius.”

Bradford's words revisited me as I located the sign with the skirt on it.

Chem– The Chemist. CHEM. Chemistry. My thoughts raced.

I shoved the door to the restroom open and found the nearest stall. Hovering over the toilet, I pressed a hand against my chest to stop my heart from plummeting out. At any second, I knew I could find it on the floor.

“Johanson!” Jack screamed.

“Hey. Joh–”

It wasn’t until then that I began to hear the voices in my ear. The voices in my head had been so loud. The galloping of my heart had been so loud. My breathing had been so loud. I was deafened.

“Y–”

Before I could speak, the door of the restroom flew open. I hadn’t set my eyes on him, but I could feel Chem. He was so fucking demanding. Spellbinding. Entrancing.

My God.

I snatched the small device from my ear by the tips of my fingers. It fell into the toilet, exactly where I’d intended for it to go. I flushed it, watching it swirl before wiping the sweat from my top lip and straightening my posture. When I turned around, I was face to face with the man himself.

SIX

She was struggling. The lack of oxygen that had her short of breath reminded me of the way I felt when I saw another man in her presence. That darkness that shaded my orbs had formed a cast over hers. I reached behind me, removing my tool.

She flinched, causing irreparable damage to my heart. I’d never hurt Eden. The fact she considered it had my head ringing.

Address it later.

“I’ll make sure to clean the mess you make,” I assured her, holding the Glock out for her to grab.

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