While he conducted his brief inspection of the layout, Brynn didn’t move from the spot where she’d taken root just inside the door. She said, “After a drive long enough to make me car sick—”

“Mountain roads. It’s not my fault they’re winding.”

“But I thought you were going to the airplane.”

“I thought so, too. Change of plan. Besides, it’s still too foggy to take pictures.”

“What are we doing here?”

He set his flight bag on the seat of a chair, then removed his bomber jacket and tossed it onto the bed. It landed with the lining side up. Brynn frowned with distaste.

“Don’t be so hard on her,” he said. “She’s kept me warm many a night.” He waited a beat, then added, “But since you’re here…” He left the suggestion hanging.

“Dream on. I’m not a pinup girl.”

His gaze lowered to her mouth, and then to her breasts, and when it reconnected with hers, he said, “You’d do.”

Suddenly they were no longer sparring. Those two words, and the raspiness with which he’d spoken them, had caused a seismic mood shift. Worse, both of them were aware of it.

To set things right again, he turned away from her and forced a light laugh. “Relax, Dr. O’Neal. I don’t have designs like that on you.”

“Answer my question.”

“I forgot what it was.” He sat down on the bed, pulled off one boot and let it drop, then the other.

“What are we doing here?”

“Oh, that. I’m waiting you out.”

“Waiting me out?”

“Until you give me the last number of the combination.”

“You don’t need it. You’ve seen inside.” She hefted the box by the handle.

He got up, wrested it from her, and set it on top of the dresser. “When I asked the first time what was in it, why didn’t you just say, ‘It’s four vitally important and time-sensitive blood samples that must be kept airtight’?”

He shook his head. “Instead, you acted squirrely. That’s Rawlins’s word, and, as bad as I hate to agree with him, it’s a perfect description. From the time you came sneaking out of the woods toward the plane, you’ve been disingenuous.”

“That’s a step up from dodgy and squirrely.”

He fixed a stare on her. “I’m not playing, Brynn. My reputation is on the line and so is Dash’s. Trust me on this, I’m not screwing around.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fair enough.” He pointed to the box. “Something’s inside the lining. Just like there’s a world map on the other side of that beauty.” He nodded down at his jacket. “If there’s nothing else in there, why didn’t you scream bloody murder when I hustled you out of that café?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out before she quickly closed it.

“See, that’s what I thought,” he said. “You wanted to avoid those two guys because they worry you. You’re up to something, and I want to know what it is. I wish you’d tell me now and save us both time and hassle. And money. I’m out forty-five bucks for these charming accommodations. I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Nobody asked you to poke your nose in.”

“No, I wasn’t asked. I was obligated.”

“How so?”

“Whatever is in your precious box cost Dash an airplane and could have cost Brady White his life. So you had just as well take off your coat and get comfortable, because you’re not leaving this room until I know what’s so goddamn valuable.”

“My coat stays on.”

He made a suit-yourself gesture, then looked down at the box. “Who’d you steal it from?”

“I didn’t.”

“Says the career thief’s daughter. Is your old man in on it?”

“I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Marlene White heard he’d made parole.”

“I heard that, too.”

“You haven’t seen him since his release?”

“No.” He looked at her with skepticism. She repeated her no with emphasis and added, “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“What is this? What’s the contraband? An explosive devise of some kind? It’s set to blow at a given time, and you don’t want to be around when it does. Is that why you’re in such a big hairy hurry to hand it off?”

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“What about your cohort Dr. Lambert?”

“He’s a genius.”

“A genius who adheres to some radical credo—”

“No!”

“You’re right. A bomb doesn’t sound like him. Too militant. Too ballsy. Not scientific enough.” He stroked his chin as though considering. “You two are going to poison Atlanta’s water supply? Contaminate the CDC with a smart virus? Inject one into the hot dogs at Turner Field?”

She bent her head down and rubbed the space between her eyebrows.

“Am I warm?” he asked.

“Nowhere near.”