His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(90)
Author: Shayla Black

Sending him a sideways glance, she plopped the little sphere in his palm. He stopped at a light, then bounced the toy on the console between them. She shut her eyes again.

“Hickory near the dock. The mouse hides on the farm. From the painted fence, jump three steps left. Walk a straight line to the . . . something. Hickory near the dock.” She sighed, her vexation climbing. “Is this even important?”

“Viktor Aslanov rewrote this rhyme for some reason.”

“He was Russian. Maybe he didn’t know the words.”

“It’s possible. But we’ve got nothing else. This sounds a little like he gave you directions to something.”

“Or that’s wishful thinking on your part. It’s just . . . part of it doesn’t want to come out of my memory bank.”

“You haven’t thought about this in forever. Try one more time.” As he veered onto the highway heading north, he bounced the ball again, and Bailey did her best to listen.

Nothing new. She still couldn’t remember where the rhyme said to walk the straight line to.

“Sorry.” She shook her head.

“It’s all right. We’ll give it a break and work on it later. Maybe you should close your eyes and see if you can sleep.”

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I’m pretty keyed up.”

Joaquin shrugged, conceding the point. “And I could use some coffee.”

“I don’t drink it much, but that sounds good.”

“Okay. Let’s see how much of the rush hour traffic we can beat. When we get to the outskirts of Dallas, we’ll stop.”

“I’ve encountered plenty of stop-and-go crap in Houston. I’m for anything that bypasses the possibility of more. Why are we going north?”

“South isn’t going to work,” he tossed back. “No sense in going back to Houston.”

“True.” Especially since McKeevy knew where she lived. Her lease was up in less than two months. She’d been planning to sign again. Now she’d probably look for another place once she was safe.

If she was ever safe again.

“I’m trying to come up with a game plan. If we need to go east or west, I’ll veer.”

That made sense enough for now. “What do you mean by coming up with a good offense?”

“In a nutshell? Stop running. What LOSS wants isn’t you, but what they think you might remember: where your father might have buried that research.”

“Why do they want it so bad?”

“Could be a million reasons, but my best bet is exactly what Sean suggested: They’re convinced they can genetically alter soldiers to kick the U.S. military’s ass. Remember they want to secede from the Union.”

“That sounds awfully . . . sci-fi.”

“From what we can glean, your father’s research was incredibly advanced. He was years—maybe even decades—ahead of his peers. It’s also possible he was a hell of a snake-oil salesman and fed LOSS a bunch of mumbo jumbo about his capabilities, and they believed it.”

“Seems like they’d want some proof.” Why else would they give a scientist so much money? Bailey frowned.

“Yeah, I’ve thought that. Something has convinced them this information will solve all their ills, because they’re awfully willing to kill for it. Maybe the bit of research they received early on convinced them they needed the rest. Who knows? Our problem is just keeping you alive. I think the key is finding whatever your father may have hidden.”

“Do you know for certain he hid anything?”

“No,” Joaquin admitted. “But a man flushing his life’s work down the toilet willingly . . . I don’t buy that.”

Bailey shrugged. “But you’re not upset about your job.”

“I’m passionate about justice. I haven’t given up on that. I’m just going down a different path for it.”

And then what? she wondered, but didn’t ask. Maybe she didn’t want to know which of the four winds he’d follow out of her life once this danger had passed.

“So you’re thinking we try to find whatever Viktor Aslanov might have salvaged. Where do we start?”

Joaquin hesitated. “I’ve been thinking about this. I think we have to go back to the scene of the crime.”

“I don’t know where he did his research.”

“But we know where LOSS came looking for him and murdered his family. Maybe they had some hunch to hunt for the information there.”

“Go back to that farm I see in my dreams?” The idea horrified . . . even as it made sickening sense.