Page 42 of Every Last Breath

While Maddox shared her concerns, holding the attention of everyone at the table, Doc fiddled with her coppery-blond hair, brushing it back from a shoulder. Sanborn’s gaze zeroed in on her from the quick, little gesture and held for the tiniest beat too long as he rubbed a knuckle across his lips.

The look was subtle, but the spark of interest was unmistakable. No one else seemed to catch it, probably because it didn’t last. An instant later, he was engrossed in his coffee.

“You’re right. This bioweapon has been altered.” Doc brought up a chart depicting differences between the strains. Cutesy charms dangled from a bracelet that complemented her bohemian top.

Everyone focused on their screens, except Sanborn, who stared at Doc. There was no lechery in his eyes. Cole recognized the loneliness and longing. Sanborn looked like a kid staring in a shop window at one of the shiny, unobtainable toys on display.

Although there appeared to be a fifteen- to twenty-year age gap between him and Doc, Sanborn was fit and most women would probably find him appealing, but Cole sensed a look but don’t touch energy from him.

“We’re calling it smallpox-M,” Doc said. “The M is for magnified mutation in this terror-borne strain. It’s a biosafety level 4 virus that attacks and cripples the immune system within hours, causing the accelerated onset of symptoms. This hot agent is extremely contagious and, from what I can tell, far deadlier than anything we’ve encountered.”

“How does it spread?” Cole asked.

“It’s airborne—a cough or a sneeze is enough.”

Sanborn threaded his fingers. “Fatality rate?”

“Natural smallpox has a fatality rate of thirty percent. I can’t be certain with this since I don’t have a sample to study. But based on the video of the victim, who was young and appeared healthy, and the severity of the symptoms that overwhelmed his immune system like a viral blitzkrieg, I’m estimating that this mutated version will have a much higher fatality rate.” She blew out a long breath. “Possibly ninety percent.”

There was a sudden heaviness in the air.

“There’s no known vaccine or cure,” Doc said. “Those few who survive will be horribly disfigured from the scars left by the lesions. This has potentially devastating consequences. Worldwide.”

Fan-freaking-tastic. The M might as well have stood for monstrous, elevating the stakes and risks. What else should he have expected—he was on vacation in the middle of a heat wave.

“Thank you, Doc.” Sanborn turned to Harper and gave a nod.

She tapped a button. Pictures of two men he didn’t recognize came up on his screen.

“Blackburn and Callahan were killed in the last twenty-four hours,” Harper said, fiddling incessantly with a pen.

Sanborn leaned forward. “I believe Blackburn’s murder might’ve triggered the seller to move up the auction.”

“As far as we know,” Harper said, “Ilya Reznikov in Maryland, Kassar, whose whereabouts are unknown, and Reinhart in Germany are still alive.”

“Ilya was attacked this morning.” Maddox gently touched his injured shoulder. “Cole was shot saving him. Doc can give you stitches. For the flesh wound.” Dropping her hand, she gave him a side-eye that had him both clenching his jaw and squirming in his seat.

“Well, you did the world a favor.” Reece rocked back in his chair, wearing a sarcastic grin. “A real solid, saving an arms trafficker responsible for countless deaths.”

The comment hit worse than a sucker punch because it was true, but instinct had made Cole lunge for his brother. “Well, that arms trafficker got you this.” He whipped out the auction invitation and tossed it on the table. “And since all you people care about is the mission, I’d say I did everyone in this room a real solid.”

The words hadn’t been aimed at Maddox, but her gaze fell as she tensed.

“Golly gee, thanks.” Reece handed the invitation to Harper.

“Around here, we do care about the mission.” Gideon rested his forearms on the table. “If you have a problem with that, Castle would be happy to resolve it with you in the break room. And if he needs any assistance, I’d be pleased to help.”

Castle’s jaw tightened, veins in his temples throbbing as though he itched to get back to duking it out street-fight style.

“This is my backup?” Cole hiked a thumb at the three tough guys across the table.

“We’re backup for Maddox,” Castle said. “Not you.”

The air needed to be cleared. A street fight wasn’t a bad way to do it either.

“You three are to cover Maddox and Cole.” Sanborn’s voice was quiet yet implacable, arresting everyone’s attention. His eyes darkened. “If you’re not up for this, I can call Alistair and Ares in early from R&R to replace you.”

No one responded as butts shifted in seats.