Sheri nodded and pursed her lips in agreement. “What’s your hypothesis? Start with what’s worrying you.”
“I’m concerned that the Welson drug only puts the cancer into stasis. It mimics recovery because the growth stops, the patient appears better, but in fact, the cancer may have actually mutated. I can’t rule out that the original cancer might have the potential to become active once the drug’s stopped.”
“But they ran preliminary studies. Given the time lapse between those early results and now, any resurgence of the cancer cells, even in preliminary animal studies, should be apparent.”
Briet shrugged and moved her spinach around her plate. It wasn't as if she could admit to her colleague that she
saw
the cancer metastasized in another part of her patients’ bodies. Human beings needed proof. Proof took time.
“Perhaps they don’t know. Or perhaps they do and it’s buying them time. Maybe they’re close to finishing the drug they should be testing and don’t want to admit it’s not ready yet.”
“These patients would become dependent on this product, physically and financially.” Sheri raised a brow and moved her water glass in a circle, expanding the condensation into a larger puddle on the table.
“I’m not talking about financial blackmail. This is a small study. Frankly, the number of patients affected in the entire country wouldn’t generate a large windfall for Welson. I don’t suspect financial gain.”
“You’ve seen this in all your patients? You have one that has to have the placebo.”
“It’s only been ten days. My tests show consistency between all my patients. To be fair, I don’t know what may change over the entire three month period.”
Sheri’s nails rapped one at a time on the table as she glanced out the window. With a quick look back, she stared at Briet. “You want my patients’ results as well.”
“It would be helpful.”
“And also rule out some bias for your test group.” Sheri let out another forceful exhale. “Fine, how do we do this?”
“I gather the urine and muscle tissue samples from my patients,” she said as Sheri’s mouth pinched. “It’s just a prick, and all of my patients are now trained with deep meditation. They feel nothing.”
“You’ve just ratcheted up my workload here. I’ll talk to the parents, even do the urine samples, but the muscle tissue will have to wait.”
Briet nodded. “Appreciate it. I can’t make this easier, but I can offer an option to help another part of your day.”
“Oh, my dear friend, please anything,” Sheri purred as she picked up her fork again and pushed aside the spinach for chunks of blue cheese and chicken.
“You can take my SUV until you get yours back.” Briet held up a hand as her friend started to protest. “I’m staying in town, one stop on the subway from the hospital. I know it doesn’t measure up to your baby but mine
does
have leather seats. Besides, it will only sit for the next three months in the hospital garage.” She laughed. “And you can talk to it all you want. Just don’t expect it to say anything back.”
Sheri responded with a wicked smile. “Your RX330? I think that is too generous, but I’ll take it.”
“It needs to be driven.” She never used the car anyway. Given her ability to transport, to
fold
space and travel anywhere she could visualize with a quick thought, a car was a needless encumbrance. As long as no one saw her disappear or reappear,
folding
beat the cost of gas and hectic traffic any day of the week. “We can head back together and I’ll give you the keys. The parking sticker’s already on the bumper.”
“Deal.” Sheri reached to shake across the table.
CHAPTER 4
Mia heard the growl and the measured steps down the long stone hallway of the Sanctum before Ansgar marched through the open doors of her study.
She kept her head hunched over the myriad papers spread across a large polished oak table, shuffling through notes with her left hand. One tiny nod to acknowledge his presence, and she turned back to the illumination of black lettering on a gold background suspended in the air. A flick of her fingers and the letters spun quickly upward, like a wheel in motion until she tapped again. A fresh screen of information slowed to a halt.
He pulled out a chair beside her, turned it around to straddle the seat and waited.
Her finger highlighted names and words, and with a tap activated a tag for information retrieval in the Archives. Little by little, she was sorting through requests from the other Guardians to search for backgrounds on their families, or any trace that one of them might still be alive.
From the way Ansgar glared at the compact black rectangle squashed in his hand, she had no doubt he was here about family as well. He wouldn’t find answers in the Archives.
“Problems with reception?” Mia glanced at him. She stifled a laugh at the look of disgust he was giving the cell phone in his hand. He was touchy enough about Briet openly interacting in human civilization without her pushing his buttons.
“I can’t get her to answer.”
His lips turned into a tight thin line and his brows furrowed so close together they became one thick row. A threatening sight when combined with the thick blond hair pulled into one long braid down his back. He looked every bit a fierce invader. Mia marveled at the genetic process that modeled each of the Guardians after distinct examples of the human spectrum.
“Would you like me to try?”
He nodded.
She accepted the phone and checked back through his sent calls. Briet’s cell number repeated ten times in the last two days. When she glanced up, his heated gaze remained fixed on the phone. “I’ll try again, but the calls are going out. You even have other messages.”
That got a look.
“One from your service provider.” She pursed her lips to keep from laughing at his wince. “One from Tsu—a text message. They’ve located a site for his sister’s homestead. Interesting word for a safe house.”
“Nothing else?”
“How about I send her a text? If she’s in a meeting or something she’ll know to call you back.”
“She already knows to call me back.” He closed his eyes for a second. “Sorry. I would appreciate whatever you can do. Can’t get my fingers to work on those tiny keys anyway. She never answers the blasted phone. I bet she left it somewhere.”
Mia bit her lip. He was probably right. Briet, while brilliant, had a tendency to be a little haphazard with the mundane things in life. Like checking in and letting people know she was still alive.
“Maybe you should just drop by and see her.”
“She’ll think I don’t trust her.”
He growled those words and a slow rumble reverberated outside the window of the study. Mia glanced out the window at the gathering storm and back at Ansgar. He hardly looked remorseful. His power over water had dumped more than one torrential downpour on the gardens since she’d lived here, but she supposed it was better than him literally letting off steam inside the Sanctum. Fine droplets of mist gathered in the air between them and she dispelled the moisture with a quick wave of her hand.
“Sorry.” Ansgar shrugged. His mood hadn’t improved, but at least the liquid evaporated.
Mia smiled. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with showing up. Drop in for lunch. It’s the middle of the day. It’s not like you’re interrupting a date or something.”
Oops
. She tucked in on herself as the thunderous look returned to his face. He grabbed the phone back from her with another unintelligible grumble. Fortunately, he was gone before Mia doubled over with laughter.
CHAPTER 5
“Why don’t you get a table? I’ll handle this.” Jason gestured Briet toward the far side of the café away from the thick crowd of people clustered around the barista’s counter. He waited patiently and glanced down at his leg as a pressure brushed again his pants.
Correction—a body.
The little girl couldn’t be more than four and had one fist gripped tight in her mother’s hand. The other, clenched in the folds of his pants. Jason glanced at the mother, but she was busy placing an order, trying to get a plain cup of milk on the side to go with her coffee.
Jason felt a push from behind. He shot a pointed look over his shoulder and shifted a hand down to brace the girl against the people who couldn’t see her.
A cup joined several others waiting to be claimed on the countertop. Steam swirled from one plain black coffee and two fragrant fruit teas. “Double mocha latte, no cream.”
“That’s me.” A woman pushed by Jason’s shoulder and grasped the latte, yanking back heedless of the other cups in the way.
“Watch—” It was all Jason got out before the two scalding cups tipped. Liquid steam sliced across the counter top, for a split second suspended, an amber shine in the air. Instinct told him to move.
No time.
No room.
Jason jerked his hand from the behind the child’s back to cover her head and face in an effort to shove her behind his leg. He caught the mother’s expression as her eyes widened. Her mouth opened in a piercing cry. It seemed to take forever before the burning hot liquid coated his hand. Searing heat exploded as the tea splashed to the floor.
The mother scooped the crying child up in her arms and briskly checked the tender skin for burns and injury. Jason gritted his teeth and bit back the pain, swallowing the curse he wanted to shout.
“She all right?” The voice came from the crowd.
“Yes.” The sound of relief in the mother’s voice reflected the look on her face until she glanced again to Jason, realizing what had happened. “Oh, my—your hand. Are you okay? Please, what can I do to help?”
Not trusting speech, Jason shook his head and pressed backward through the crowd to get free of the cluster of bodies. Shouts issued between the manager and the cashier. Someone moved in to mop the floor and steer people away from the mess. Several concerned inquiries from good Samaritans rose over the din. Jason ignored them all.
The pressure on the palm of his injured hand registered it was too late for him to jerk away.
“Let me help you.” Briet’s voice cut through the voices and the pain as she turned to the gathered crowd. “It’ll be okay. I’m a doctor. He’ll be fine if you’d just let us through.”
Jason waved his good hand at people and followed Briet. “Fine, just fine.”
“You’re definitely not fine.” Her voice was low, for his ears only. She kept one hand pressed to his palm and the other firmly above his elbow. Wedging him close, she maneuvered them past the distraught manager, the frantic, grateful mother, and the rest of the morning crowd.
“That’s a severe burn. I have supplies in my lab that will take care of this.”
Jason leaned back against the elevator wall and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they were already moving into Briet’s lab.
How the hell had that happened
? Pain must have deadened his perception
.
She pulled a lab stool over to the sink. “Sit here. You can rest against the wall while I get the sterile water.”
Jason sucked in his breath when her hand moved away from his. Sharp, raw heat flooded over his skin, as if it had been locked behind a gate and suddenly released.
Several interminable minutes later, she was back and loaded for battle: one squirt bottle, several bottles of sterile water, cream antiseptic, two clean towels, sterile gauze, and tape.
Briet watched Jason’s eyes close. The pale skin and faint lines around his mouth broadcast his refusal to show his pain. With care, she lifted his hand over the sink, cradled his palm in hers, and gently started the water at his wrist. She felt the tiny jerk of his muscles as the liquid reached the burned section but he said nothing. Continuing to flush the four to five inch section of his hand with fluid, she kept her contact with him. Ten to fifteen minutes later, she’d gone through four bottles of water and a small amount of her own energy, but the raw, angry red from the second-degree burn had paled. The flesh no longer threatened to blister and his breathing had evened out.
She glanced up and caught his expression as he looked at his hand and frowned. Her heart leapt to her throat at the sight of his healed skin. Her Guardian skill didn’t deliver healing—with one exception.
“Guess it really wasn’t that bad.” His blue eyes held the question. “Or else, you’re one incredible doctor.”
“It’s my gentle touch.” She laughed, more than a little uneasy, and busied herself putting away her supplies. The last thing she’d expected on this trial was to find her mate. Thankfully, she had been there in time to help him. Not that she was prepared to deal with him or the flurry of feelings she’d encountered since she’d first seen Jason Ballard. “Not sure how much attention you were paying downstairs?”
He shook his head.
“The little girl’s mother was very grateful.” Briet dipped her free hand into her lab coat pocket. “She left a card and asked for you to call her. The manager of the shop insisted he would cover any damages. He seems very worried you might sue.”
Jason winced. “Not really the image Welson wants to present.”
“So you’re always one hundred percent the company man.”
He lifted his palm from hers, flexed his hand slowly, and tried to clench it. “I wasn’t one downstairs.”
“The scalding would have permanently injured that child’s face.”
The shrug he gave her was casual, but the image of his quick maneuver still resonated in Briet’s mind. He’d acted without thought, his gut instinct to protect.
“What’s with all the refrigerators?”
Briet blinked, not bothering to look over her shoulder. He’d obviously recovered enough to take in the five small fridges she’d stocked beneath her lab counters. “I keep samples in there.”
“Samples from your patients?”
“Mostly.”
He stretched his neck and then turned back puzzled. “All the data results are in the system. Are these duplicate samples you’re keeping? You have concern about the validity of the results?”