One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(91)

Steve’s hands curl into fists and he swallows. “I did what you said. Brought her here. Tell me where my family is.”

“Oh, Steve.” Birkin shakes his head and walks toward him, hands in his pockets. “Of course. You did a great job.”

Steve flinches as the doctor comes closer. “Just tell me.”

“Sure, sure.” Birkin stops less than a foot from the man, who’s practically shaking he’s so overwhelmed. “They’re…”

The doctor’s voice lowers; Steve leans in slightly to catch his words, his neck extending like a turtle poking out of its shell. Before he can move, Birkin whips his hand out of his right pocket and jabs a needle straight into Steve’s jugular.

I swallow a scream as I watch his eyes roll back in his head and his legs give out beneath him. Birkin laughs crazily as the big man crumples like a paper doll in the rain.

“Thanks for your help, Steve.” He shakes his head and turns back to me, grinning widely. “What a great guy.”

My heart is pounding; my eyes are locked on the empty hypodermic needle in Birkin’s hand. “Is… is he…” I swallow. “Is he dead?”

Birkin laughs again. “Of course not! What, do you think I’m some kind of monster?”

I don’t answer. Because obviously I think he’s a f*cking monster, but I’m really not keen on having a needle shoved in my carotid anytime soon.

He takes a jerky step toward me. “Just a sedative; he should wake up in a few hours. I don’t kill innocent people.”

That’s good news.

“Then, please, let me go,” I whisper.

“But, Zoe…” He makes a tsk noise. “You aren’t innocent.” I watch his hands pull back on the end of the needle a bit, so the tube fills with air. “Do you know what happens to the human body when you push an air bubble into a vein?”

Shit, f*ck, damn.

My heart pounds harder.

“The medical term for it is an air embolism. Fancy name for a bubble, in my opinion. Then again, given that such a little bubble can do such amazing things… like travel to your heart or your brain, block the blood flow until you slowly lose consciousness and die… I suppose it deserves some elaborate terminology. Don’t you agree?”

He takes a step closer, rolling the needle between his fingers.

“Please,” I whisper, trying not to panic. “Please, you’ve got the wrong person. I didn’t do anything to you.”

“Well, now, that’s just patently untrue, Zoe.” He frowns at me. “I got a very interesting phone call from Robert Lancaster’s Head of Security a few days ago! Mr. Linus – I believe you’ve met him. Not the friendliest man I’ve ever encountered, I’ll say that much.” His eyes narrow. “Want to take a guess where he was calling me from? I’ll give you a hint: it wasn’t his beach house in Palm Springs.”

I drag in a shaky breath.

“Seems some people at the FBI had some questions for him. Questions about me. And the health of our employees.” He leans closer and I try not to show how much fear his proximity inspires. It takes all my self control not to squeeze my eyes shut.

“You can imagine, he wasn’t very happy.” Birkin’s pupils are constricted to pinpricks; a surefire sign he’s high out of his mind. “He told me all about you, and your little investigation. And then he told me it was my fault for keeping those medical records saved to the company network. He told me to fix it.”

I swallow, still watching the needle in his hand.

“So, Zoe, here I am.” He comes closer; I can feel his rancid breath on my face when he speaks again. “You and I are going to have a little chat about what you gave the FBI. And then you’re going to do what you do best.”

My heart is pounding so hard I’m worried it’ll give out. “What? What do you want me to do?”

He makes a disappointed face. “And here I thought you were supposed to be clever.” He shakes his head. “You’re going to hack their servers and erase all the evidence you gave them. No evidence means no trial. No trial means no jail time for me or Lancaster or Linus.”

He’s nuts. Certifiably insane. Unfortunately, I don’t think pointing that out at this moment is going to do me any favors.

“And, if you do it all perfectly…” Birkin’s hand reaches out to stroke my face; I feel the side of the plastic needle pressing against my skin and tears of horror fill my eyes despite my best efforts. “…Then maybe I’ll let you go.”

I don’t dare to breathe with the tip of his needle so close to my eye socket.

“Oh, don’t cry, Zoe!” Laughing, he stumbles backward a few steps. “We’re going to fix everything.” He tilts his head. “Well… you’re going to fix everything.” His grin is manic. “Because, if you don’t, I’m going to kill you.”

I swallow hard.

Fuck.



* * *



Birkin tows me by my bound hands like a dog on a leash, leading me through the abandoned offices using his cellphone as a flashlight. The power was cut in this building a long, long time ago. We step over piles of trash and medical waste, around discarded particle-board furniture and past broken light fixtures.