Page 56 of Hunted

She wanted to fold herself into his arms, just melt against his strong chest, and let him rock her, hold her. She wanted that so much!

But she stood still, unblinking. “Did you find what you wanted in the diary?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She was tired. Drained. Slowly her taut muscles unclenched, and she managed to stop grinding her teeth and calm her breathing.

“Tell me what other bombshells you found in that damned book,” she said, the words falling from her lips without inflection or emotion.

Connor cleared his throat. “He made a deal with a Mr. White to develop the formula in secret, right under the noses of his team at the University. It’s all in the diary. He was paid a lot money for it.”

Lexi closed her eyes, nodding slowly. “He always complained he was unappreciated. All the acclaim, all the prizes, it was never enough. And the whole time, he wasn’t even capable of loyalty to his own country. Or even to mankind.”

Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes again, faced Connor’s blue ones, wished she didn’t see so much concern for her in their depths. “What else?”

He cleared his throat. “He collected half the money up front, and was supposed to get the rest on delivery of the formula. But apparently, he got cold feet.”

“Oh?”

“He accidentally exposed himself. Once he realized he was dying, he seemed to find a conscience. Either that, or he wanted time to try to develop a cure. Whatever his reasons, he decided to back out of the deal. He knew White wouldn’t take that lying down, so he decided to drop out of sight.” Connor watched her face. “For what it’s worth, he wrote that he kept himself away from everyone until the incubation period had passed. He knew he was no longer contagious by the time he got near you, or anyone else again.”

“The man was a saint,” she whispered, remembering the three days he hadn’t come home from his lab. That was when she’d begun to suspect dementia.

“The man was a fool.”

“So are you.” She held his gaze for a long moment. He didn’t argue. In fact, he lowered his eyes as if in silent concession.

She swallowed hard, looked away from him. “I’m a doctor. Why didn’t I see symptoms of this virus before it killed him?”

“The symptoms were subtle, and he only recognized them himself because of the research he’d been doing. Forgetfulness was one. The rest he could have hidden easily enough. Fatigue. Night sweats. Gradually decline over a six-to-twelve-week period, followed by sudden death.”

True, Lexi realized. All true. “Did the diary say what he did with his research or the formula itself?”

Connor shook his head.

She sighed long and low. “That’s it, then.”

He looked up, met her eyes, his brows raised in question.

“You wasted your time coming up here and dragging me into this whole thing,” she said, and she fought to keep her voice level, to sound rational and calm. “And I really think it’s time we ended it, don’t you?”

“I can’t leave. You know that.”

She shrugged. “Then I will. You can have the place to yourself, Romano. Tear up the floorboards looking for the formula. I’ll come back someday when this is all over.” She picked up the box she’d been filling and started for the door.

“You can’t just leave!”

He followed her, but she did her best to pretend he wasn’t there as she descended the stairs. She carried the box through the foyer and to the back door, then balanced it on her hip while she got the door open. She stepped into a pair of tall rubber boots, and then outside into the frigid air.

Connor grabbed their coats and followed right behind her, yelling questions all the way, but she ignored him. This was between her and her father.

The icy wind stinging her cheeks felt good. It cleared her head, numbed her heart a little to the hurt her false father had inflicted so deeply for so long. She trudged through the snow, across the lawn to the tiny rectangle that had been his garden. And there she tipped the box upside down, spilling its contents onto the snow.

“There you go, Father. You always preferred the company of this stupid patch of dirt to mine. You should have been buried right here. It would have suited you, wouldn’t it? No time for a daughter who loved you. No. But plenty of time for all that puttering. Out here all the time, digging. Always digging. That was all you ever …”

Lexi let her tirade fade to silence, and the cardboard box fell from her hands. She stood there blinking down at the snow around her feet. And just like that, she knew. She simply knew.

Without lifting her head or turning to face Connor, she said, “Get a shovel.”

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