“Hi, Jen,” Evyn said brightly, watching the hand on the bag. As far as she could tell, the bag was closed. She looked past Jennifer down the block, saw Paula Stark intercept a woman with a stroller and redirect her back the way she had come. The sidewalk right in front of the diner was clear—the inside team would have prevented anyone from exiting until the intercept was over and the area secured. Directly across from Jennifer, Roberts stepped out of a parked SUV.

“Oh hi, Evyn.”

Twenty-five feet.

“How about I give you a ride to work.”

Twenty feet.

Jennifer’s friendly smile dimmed. “I’m not due in for another hour or so. Thanks anyhow.”

Fifteen feet.

“I’ll give you a lift home, then.” And focused on shoulder bag, on Jennifer’s fingers gripping the zipper along its top edge.

Jennifer glanced over her shoulder. Stark strode rapidly toward her. Her gaze cut across the street. Cam, joined by another agent, arrowed toward her. Jennifer’s eyes widened.

Ten feet.

“You’ll want to say yes, Jen,” Evyn said, watching Jennifer’s hand ease toward the now open bag. “Make this easy.”

Jennifer’s other hand came out of her pocket. The Sig looked huge.

“Gun!” Evyn shouted and launched herself across the last eight feet. The sharp crack split the air, heat flashed over her, and the rage in Jennifer’s eyes swallowed her.

*

Evyn went down and Wes jumped to her feet. The COM lines flooded with shouts.

Shots fired.

Agent down.

Medics. We need medics.

Wes grabbed the hazmat container, shoved the rear door of the van open, and shouldered through. Block was beside her, running. Her breath tore from her chest—shards of pain shredded her throat. Half a block seemed like an eternity. A clot of agents hovered over the prone figures. Jennifer’s shoulder bag lay on the sidewalk, its contents strewn around it. The box Jennifer had received from her contact lay half in and half out of the bag.

“Get away from the bag,” Wes shouted. “Everyone—back away from the bag.”

Roberts materialized from the huddle of bodies and jogged toward her. “Subject is contained. We’ve got an agent down.”

Evyn. Evyn was hurt. Wes clamped down on her panic. “The specimen could be compromised. This area is a hot zone—get everyone out, cordon off the street.”

“Already gave the order.”

“How is she?”

“Gunshot—close range. She’s shocky.”

“Evacuate her—tell them to put her in isolation. Everyone else goes into lockdown until I know what we’re dealing with.”

“I have to interrogate the subject,” Roberts said.

“Then you’ll have to do it in an isolation cell.” Wes kept her focus on the bag and what it contained. Her duty, her obligation, was to neutralize that biological agent, a substance every bit as lethal as a dirty bomb and capable of killing far more. They didn’t know what they were dealing with, and every member of the team had potentially been exposed. Her heart demanded she find Evyn, protect her, aid her above all others, but her duty drove her toward the open bag. Kneeling, she flipped the lid on the biohazard chest filled with dry ice and pulled on a pair of gloves. She extracted the suspect package from Jennifer’s bag and dropped it into the chest. The package appeared to be intact. After stripping off her gloves and depositing them in a red biohazard bag, she donned another pair of protective gloves, pushed the spilled contents back inside the bag, zipped it, and dropped that into the biohazard bag as well. Using yet another pair of gloves, she sealed the red bag and carried it and the hazmat chest to the SUV idling half up on the curb next to her. She climbed into the back, and as the agent inside pulled the doors closed, she looked back at the group on the sidewalk.

Jennifer Pattee was facedown with her hands cuffed behind her back. Hernandez, the medic assigned to Stark’s team, and Stark knelt over Evyn. Wes couldn’t see Evyn’s face. She stared at the plain white chest with the iridescent green biohazard sign stamped on the front resting at her feet. The SUV sped up, leaving the scene on the sidewalk farther and farther behind. Leaving Evyn behind. Wes concentrated on the job that needed to be done, ignoring the pain that made every heartbeat as agonizing as a bullet tearing her flesh. She’d had to abandon her wounded in the field again, and this time, she’d left her heart behind.

Chapter Thirty-three

They made it the eight miles to the army research lab in Silver Spring in under twenty minutes. When Wes climbed out of the SUV with the white ice chest in her hand, three uniformed soldiers converged on her.

“Captain Masters?” the female major asked.

“That’s right.”

“Come with us, please.”

The silent escorts led her directly through the building to an elevator and down one floor. A fortyish African American woman with short black hair and luminous mahogany eyes in a disposable cover gown and gloves met Wes as she stepped out of the elevator. The hallway in front of the air lock to the Level 4 lab was empty, save for the slowly panning security cameras mounted at intervals along the stark white corridor.

“I’m Dr. Felice Glover,” the woman said. “What’s the status of the specimen?”

“Contained at this point,” Wes said, handing over the chest. “I don’t know if we have a viable virus. I doubt it’s been kept at optimal conditions since it went missing from the original lab. If the vial is compromised, widespread contamination isn’t likely, but we’re taking precautions.”

The scientist nodded briskly. “We’ll know soon enough about exposure risks. We’ll scan the container for any leaks and I’ll call you and Director Roberts.”

“Thank you,” Wes said, feeling caught up in the surreal. They were casually discussing a potentially lethal contagion while Evyn was somewhere, injured, possibly seriously. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“I think the risk is slight, but keep the team in the vehicle until I report. It’s as good as an isolation room.”

“Roger that.”

Wes hurried away, wondering if she’d ever find out what she’d just delivered. Her job was done—some might consider she had no further need to know. She jabbed the elevator button, rocked impatiently on her heels during the one floor trip, and strode rapidly outside. The instant she stepped out of the building, she called Cameron Roberts.

“Roberts.”

“How is she?”

“We’re at George Washington. The docs are looking at her now. They’re saying guarded condition.”

Which meant anything from walking wounded to potentially serious. “Can I talk to her?”

“They threw us all out, but she’s awake—I know that much.”

Relief rushed through her so powerfully Wes staggered. She braced one hand against the rough brick of the building and lowered her head, drawing a deep breath until the churning turmoil settled a little. “If they let you in to see her, tell her…Tell her I’m on my way.”

“I’ll do that.”

“The specimen is secure.”

“I had no doubt of that,” Roberts said. “I’ll be with her until you get here.”

“Thank you.” Wes jogged to the SUV and said to the agent driving, “George Washington University Hospital, as quick as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wes settled in the back and closed her eyes. Her part of the mission was done, and all that mattered was Evyn.

*

The glass door to the cubicle slid back and the curtain twitched aside. The doctor, a harried guy in rumpled scrubs and a two-days’ growth of beard, walked in. He looked even more tired out of the space suit.

“I guess I’m not buggy, huh?” Evyn said.

“Your boss says only universal infection precautions are necessary, and we use those with everyone.”

“Good.” Evyn relaxed, the tight spring of anxiety coiled in her belly loosening. Wes must be okay if they’d determined the team wasn’t at risk from the virus. “So—I’m out of here?”

“Not quite. The bullet just grazed the soft tissue at the top of your shoulder.” He taped a rectangular bandage on the top of Evyn’s shoulder. “You’ll get some swelling in your arm and a fair amount of pain. An overnight stay and a pain pump—”

“No,” Evyn said. “I’m not staying.”

“I’d recommend it.”

“But you’re not requiring it?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Leave the bandage on for twenty-four hours. The nurses will give you a prescription for antibiotics and pain pills when you’re discharged.”

“Thanks,” Evyn said, stretching for her shirt draped on the nearby chair. She winced at the burn in her shoulder and stopped. She didn’t like being naked, but she didn’t want to give the guy any reason to restrict her activities. “When can I go back to work?”

“You’ll need to have a wound check in forty-eight hours—you can come back here, or—”

“That’s okay. I’ll see my own doctor.” She almost smiled at the thought of just how true that statement was, but the pleasure faded quickly. Wes had been the one closest to the virus. Maybe she’d been exposed, but the rest of them were in the clear. She had to get out of here and find out what was going on. She needed to see Wes. “So—we’re done? Thanks for everything.”

He looked up from the chart. “I’d rather you see a surgeon. General medical doctors don’t really have the experience to evaluate this kind of wound.”

“She’s not—”

The curtains parted and Wes walked in. She wasn’t in uniform, but then she never needed to be to look like she was in command. Her eyes were stormy and fierce, fixed on Evyn. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“I’m okay,” Evyn said immediately. “It was nothing. A scratch.”

“A little more than that,” the emergency physician said, studying Wes. “You are?”

“Captain Wesley Masters—chief of the White House Medical Unit.” Wes glanced at Evyn. “And her partner.”

“Oh, well then.” He tucked the chart under his arm and pushed his pen into the ink-stained pocket of his wrinkled lab coat. “I guess you can do the follow-up.”

“I think I can handle that. Thanks for taking care of her.” Wes cupped Evyn’s face, brushed a thumb over her cheek. The ER physician disappeared through the curtains and Wes leaned forward and kissed Evyn softly. “Now, how are you really doing?”

“I’m good. Even better now.” Evyn circled Wes’s wrist and pressed Wes’s palm to her face to reassure Wes, and herself. “I’d feel even better with my shirt on.”

Laughing, Wes plucked the shirt from the chair, and the laughter died. Blood stained the shoulder and collar. Her hands trembled. Today, Evyn had been lucky. The next time, she might not be.

“You know it always looks worse than it is,” Evyn said softly.

“Right.” Wes held up the shirt. “This will have to do until we get you home and into something clean.”

“I’m not going home,” Evyn said. “I want to get back to base for a sitrep. Roberts left a while ago to interrogate the suspects. Tom needs to be briefed, and—”

“Evyn,” Wes murmured, “you’ve been shot, you’ve been given pain medication, and you need to rest. You’re on sick leave as of now.”

“What? You can’t—” Evyn stared, her brow furrowing. “Hell, you can.”

Wes said nothing, waiting for the anger and the resentment. They’d had so little time to find their personal balance and now they might never be able to. She had to pull rank—she had a duty to Evyn, to the president, to Evyn’s team—she had to take care of her, no matter the cost.

“You better like cats.”

“What?” Wes asked.

“Cats. I come with a cat. And if I’m going home, so are you. As least until Roberts wants you back to debrief.”

“You want me to drive you home?” Wes couldn’t quite grasp what Evyn was saying. “You’re not pissed?”

“Sure I am. I don’t get why you don’t appreciate how superhuman I am. After all, I’m a United States Secret Service Agent.”

Wes smothered a smile. Evyn’s pupils were pinpoints. The medication was kicking in. “You are. And a stellar one.”

“So—you’re coming home with me, then?”

“I am.” Wes held up Evyn’s shirt. “This first.”

Evyn slid her good arm into the sleeve, and Wes helped her thread the other sleeve over her injured left arm.

“We alone?”

“Yes.”

“I take it everything’s all right with the package? The doc ditched his suits.”

Wes nodded. “I called when I got the preliminary from the lab on my way in. The vial is intact.”

“You weren’t compromised out in the field?”

“No. I’ll take culture specimens from everyone to be complete, but I think we’re all in the clear thanks to your quick work out there.”

Evyn started to shrug, then grimaced. Her shoulder burned. “Not quite quick enough. I wasn’t expecting the gun, but I guess I should’ve been. She’s military, after all. And on a mission.”