Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
I step into the protection of the hall by the stairs and peek out, but I don’t recognize the man in the dark suit. Fear rushes through me, and perspiration dampens my skin beneath my shirt.
I duck out of sight and listen because I need some kind of information to know what the hell is going on. What I am dealing with.
“I still don’t see her,” he says from his position at the lab. “But she’s in the building. Send backup.”
I don’t wait another second. I ease the door closed without letting it make a sound, then run down the stairs, treading lightly, grateful I have my ballet slipper shoes on to muffle the noise.
I need to get the hell out of here. This staircase leads to an exit on the side of the building near the parking lot. If the guy looking for me is the only one here now, I can run to my car and be gone before anyone else shows up. Opening the door will set off the alarms, but again…I have a chance of escape.
I have to take it.
I dig for my keys and hold them in one hand. Then I draw in a deep breath and push open the door. Security alarms begin blaring, but I ignore them, bolting for my car, not breaking stride as I flee across the green lawn and then onto the black asphalt.
I don’t look back the way I came or toward the front of the building, and I don’t hit the open button on my key fob until I am right next to the car door.
Climbing in, I lock the doors, start my small BMW, put the car in drive, and tear out of the parking lot, my pulse racing, sweat pouring down my neck, and panic rushing through my veins.
I force myself to calm down and think for a minute. If everything is gone, someone has stolen my research. But they’ll only get the final piece of the formula that comprises the treatment for a heart defect that will result in early death if not treated. I know firsthand.
Absently, I rub the heart pendant I never take off, a gift from my mom, who suffered with the congenital defect and died when I was only fourteen. I lost my dad to a heart attack when I was nineteen and away at college. To say treating heart ailments is my life’s passion is an understatement.
My mentor began the work on the treatment, but ultimately, he retreated to his hermit life, and I took it over. But I listened to him and learned from his experience. I never keep all the pieces in one place. Just in case.
Chris and I had a major breakthrough last week, and I informed my boss. Now everything in my lab is gone. I blow out a breath. Whoever emptied my workspace will soon find out they don’t have the whole formula… or they already know and want the rest of my research. The pieces I hid.
I need to figure out what to do. I’ve spent many years working on the treatment for this congenital defect and believe that Newton Laboratories, which subsidizes my research, would bring it to market with a reputable pharmaceutical company. One that will do right by the people suffering.
Keeping one eye on the road and another on my rearview mirror, I drive, no destination in mind. I can’t go home… if people are looking for me or the pieces of my work, they’ll go there first. Not that they’ll find anything, but I need help.
I reach out one hand and dig through my purse for the familiar feel of her phone. A quick look down, and I pull up my favorites and hit the first person listed, my brother, Tate.
Tate and Talia. My mother loved the alliteration, bless her soul.
I hit send, fully aware it is twelve hours ahead in China, where he is visiting a client. Tate works for Alpha Securities, a firm in New York, and he’ll know exactly what I should do now.
He answers on the third ring. “Talia, what’s wrong?” he immediately asks, knowing I wouldn’t wake him unless it is an emergency.
I swallow hard, glancing again in the rearview mirror as I drive. “I was at my lab and someone’s after me. I’m driving aimlessly and I—”
“Listen to me carefully,” he says, and I can picture him sitting up in bed, hair sticking out, and barking orders.
His commanding voice soothes my frazzled nerves, as does the fact that he doesn’t ask for unnecessary details. He knows my job comes with risks and certain dangers due to the high monetary stakes involved in drug development.
“Ditch the phone as soon as you hang up with me. Hop on 75 to Mockingbird and drive straight to Love Field,” he says of the nearest airport. “Leave the car in long-term parking and take a cab to Shane Landon’s house in Richardson.”