Rooted in Danger (Blackthorne Inc.) Read online

  Rooted in Danger

  A Blackthorne, Inc., Novel

  Terry Odell

  KINDLE EDITION

  Copyright © 2013 by Terry Odell

  Cover design by Dave Fymbo

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  To Amy, who brought home the reality of 'orphan' diseases

  ROOTED IN DANGER

  by

  Terry Odell

  Chapter One

  “Say again, Fozzie. You’re breaking up.”

  Foster Mayhew slapped the radio. He took a calming breath and wiped his palms on his cargo pants. Several hundred feet below him, in the dense foliage of the tropical island jungle, Hotshot, the team medic, had their target. A few minutes and they’d be aboard the helo. Safe.

  Focus. Almost clear. His heartbeat ticked away the seconds.

  Fozzie kept his voice steady. “Another storm band is closing in. Fast. Get her up here,” Fozzie barked into the radio. “Now.”

  Endless seconds ticked by. “Target is ready for transport,” Hotshot said.

  “Thank God,” Fozzie whispered under his breath. He keyed the radio. “Hotshot, hold the hell on. Manny, start winching.”

  All too slowly, the litter rose from the jungle below. Blackthorne, Inc. had been hired to get the target out, and that’s what they’d done. However, alive was understood to be part of the deal, and from the look on Hotshot’s face when he brought her on board, it wasn’t a given. Yet.

  “All accounted for,” Manny said. “We’re clear.”

  Grinch, the pilot, did the helicopter equivalent of pedal to the metal and they were off.

  “Another successful mission, mates,” Fozzie said with forced bravado. “Chalk one more up to Blackthorne, Incorporated.”

  When he didn’t get a response, Fozzie glanced over his shoulder. Hotshot knelt over their target. Kathleen? Katherine? Didn’t matter. Keeping them anonymous made the job easier if things went south. And since people trusted Blackthorne for its discretion, Fozzie preferred to know only what was necessary for the mission. Getting the target out of the jungle was their job, and they’d done it.

  “How’s the patient?” Grinch asked.

  “I wouldn’t know. Hotshot’s the medic. Me, I’m just the one who saves your arses.”

  “And we’re glad you do, them being mighty fine asses and all,” Grinch replied.

  “Shut up and fly,” Fozzie said. “I’ll alert the boss.”

  An ambulance waited at the airstrip. Four men rushed a gurney to the helo. Within seconds, the ambulance tore away, sirens screaming, lights flashing.

  “She gonna be all right?” Fozzie asked. “Did we get her in time?”

  “I hope so.” Hotshot’s grim expression sent a knife through Fozzie’s belly. “She’s dehydrated, running a high fever. The local specialists are probably familiar with whatever bugs lurk here.”

  “Hey, mates, we did our part. It’s out of our hands.” Fozzie brushed his palms together and wiped them on his pants. “How about a beer?”

  “You’re buying.” Grinch said.

  ~~~~~

  Torie Stoker held her breath against the smell of sickness and disinfectant as she pushed open the door to Kathy’s room. Bleeps and hisses filled her ears. The fact that this hospital happened to be on Isla Caribe, a tropical island where Torie was on vacation didn’t reduce the creep factor.

  She stared at the figure in the bed near the window. Her knees shook. Her stomach roiled. Residual effects of the bad clam, she told herself. Not because it was Kathy lying in the bed, full of tubes and swathed in bandages. A second bed lay empty, and Torie perched on the edge of the plastic-covered mattress, exhaling and inhaling. If not for that pesky clam, she might be lying in the bed, not sitting on it. Composing herself, she rose and crossed to Kathy’s bedside. Gently, she touched her friend’s arm, avoiding the I.V. tubing.

  Kathy’s lids fluttered. They were swollen and red. Her eyes slitted open. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  “You okay?”

  Torie suppressed a laugh. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”

  “Looks worse than it is,” Kathy said. “They’re pumping me full of antibiotics.” She smiled. “And some very nice, happy medicine.”

  Torie cast a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure the door was closed. She pulled the visitor’s chair close to the bed and sat. “You were gone four days. I didn’t know who to call, or even if I should call anyone. What happened?”

  “No biggie. Fell. Landed in a stream. Hit my head. Wrenched my knee, couldn’t hike out. Picked up some local infection from the water, I think.”

  “Sheesh, Kath, that’s definitely biggie territory.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Torie took in Kathy’s flushed face, her labored breathing. Thoughts of her best friend lying helpless and in pain for days flooded her with guilt. “I should have been there.”

  “It’s all behind us. I was the one who decided to wander off the trails looking for new specimens. I should have been more careful.” She reached for the water glass at her bedside.

  Torie jumped up. “Let me help.” She maneuvered the flexible straw into Kathy’s mouth.

  After she drained half the glass, Kathy smiled. “Thanks for calling out the search party.”

  “It wasn’t me. I was sick as a dog for almost thirty-six hours and totally out of it for at least another twelve. When I could think again, I figured you’d hooked up with someone, or I’d missed a message. I didn’t start worrying until yesterday. When the hospital called this morning, I rushed right over.”

  The beeps from one machine got faster. Kathy exhaled a shaky breath. “God, Torie, this was supposed to be a vacation.” She gasped, as if breathing were difficult. “Everything got screwed up.”

  “It wasn’t your fault there was a bad clam in my paella. I should have stuck with the pasta.”

  Kathy’s eyes were closed, but the machine’s beeps hadn’t slowed. Torie watched the monitor. Ninety-two. Ninety-six. Would that summon a doctor? Her heart pounded as if trying to match the rhythm of the readout. She squeezed Kathy’s hand. “It’ll be all right. You need to get well.”

  “My notes?”

  “I still have them, but I haven’t looked at them yet. Sorry.”

  Kathy’s face paled. Her breathing grew labored. “Keep them safe.”

  A slender man in a blue lab coat entered the room. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for Miss Townsend’s treatment. I’ll have to ask you to leave. Afternoon visi
ting hours begin at two.”

  “Treatment?” Torie said. “What kind of treatment?”

  “We must make sure the dosage of the antibiotic is correct and that her lungs are functioning properly. I must draw blood, and she must do breathing exercises.” He raised a contraption that looked like a mug with a thick flexible straw coming out of the bottom, then set it on the bedside table. “But first, the blood.”

  Torie glanced over her shoulder as the man studied the monitors and made notes on his clipboard. She pushed Kathy’s hair off her face. “I’ll be back. And I’ll bring you some clothes.”

  Kathy tugged her closer. “My papers,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything.”

  “I know, I know. All your work for Wingard Research is hush-hush. Don’t worry.”

  Torie thought Kathy’s obsession with confidentiality was a bit over the top, but she also knew if one of the big pharmaceutical companies got wind of what was going on at Wingard, they might try to grab the glory—and the money—for themselves. She winked. “I’ll guard them with my life. See you this afternoon.”

  The man glared at her, then looked at the door.

  “I get it, bloodsucker,” she muttered, giving him her best withering glare. “I’m leaving.”

  In her hotel room, Torie nibbled room service toast and sipped ginger ale. No appetite might be a good thing, hip and thigh-wise, but she didn’t like the lingering queasy feeling. She inserted her iPod ear buds and settled onto the bed with Kathy’s notes.

  And what was she looking for, anyway? Kathy was a medical researcher with the conviction that there were yet-to-be-discovered cures hidden in yet-to-be-discovered flora. Torie’s knowledge of doing medical or botanical research was nonexistent. Kathy never met a plant she didn’t like. Torie, on the other hand, could barely keep silk plants alive. But she’d learned enough to be entrusted with the care and feeding of Kathy’s personal houseplant collection when Kath had to leave town.

  Polar opposites in every respect. Kathy, a willowy blonde, Torie a dumpy brunette. Kathy, who did serious, important work. Torie, who lived off her grandmother’s trust fund. Kathy who loved the night life. A tease, a flirt, never short on male companionship. Torie who tagged along, seemingly invisible to the men surrounding Kathy. Yet, like the opposing poles on a magnet, Kathy and Torie’s attraction had been instantaneous when they’d met two years ago, and a friendship had taken root, as firmly as any of Kathy’s plants.

  Torie stared at the sheaf of papers. Spreadsheets filled with numbers and pages written in Science-ese. Torie sighed. Not her idea of a beach read.

  Kathy once said Torie could hold an entire book in her head. A major exaggeration, but for some reason, things she read stuck with Torie, whether or not she fully understood them. But right now, her head wouldn’t hold onto ten words, much less ten pages. Her eyelids drooped. When the papers fell out of her hand, she admitted defeat and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them, she checked the bedside clock. Two-thirty? How could she have slept over four hours? She crammed the notes into the night table drawer and darted for the bathroom. After doing the bare minimum required not to frighten dogs and small children, she grabbed a cab to the hospital.

  Pushing open the door to Kathy’s room, she stopped short at the sight of a man in the chair beside the bed. Salt-and-pepper hair curled over the collar of his beige linen jacket. Not a doctor was her immediate reaction.

  Torie inhaled a sharp breath and leaned against the jamb. He couldn’t be here for her. But where had he come from? While Kathy drew men like wildflowers attracted butterflies, this one seemed older than her usual hangers on. Sweat filmed her neck. Torie lifted her hair and let it float down, wishing she’d taken the time to clip it up.

  She stepped backward. Before she could sneak out, Kathy’s voice trapped her.

  “Torie. Come in.”

  Ignoring Kathy’s visitor, Torie edged around to the other side of the bed. Kathy was only a few shades darker than the stark white hospital sheets. Her eyes glistened with fever. Red patches flushed her cheeks.

  “Sorry I’m late. How are you doing?” Torie said.

  “Don’t think I’ll make the Olympic track team.” Kathy suppressed a fit of coughing, blinking tears away.

  “They’re trying to find the right course of antibiotics,” the man said. “According to the doctors, she’s picked up a bacterial infection that’s resistant to the usual medications.”

  Torie’s gaze snapped to the man. He stood and offered his hand across the bed.

  “Derek Wingard.” His pale gray eyes peered through round, steel-rimmed glasses. Full lips curved in a friendly smile above a dimpled chin. Clean-shaven, a hint of spicy cologne layering over the hospital antiseptic. In his late forties, she estimated from the creases around his eyes.

  The name registered. “As in Wingard Research?”

  “At your service.”

  “My rescuer,” Kathy said.

  Torie took him in. About five-ten. Lean, almost spindly. Definitely not a Tarzan type. She couldn’t imagine him carrying Kathy out of the jungle.

  “Not exactly,” he said. “I was worried when I couldn’t reach Katherine, especially after seeing the hurricane warnings.”

  “Hurricane?” How out of it had she been? “What are you talking about?”

  Kathy’s laugh turned into another coughing spell. “Derek always blows things out of proportion. Some rain, some wind, and he’s calling it a hurricane.”

  “There were definitely storm warnings on the Weather Channel,” he said.

  “Storm. Not hurricane. Never made it to Tropical Storm status.” Kathy coughed again.

  Torie shifted her gaze to Derek. “So how did you find her?”

  “When she didn’t return my calls—”

  “Cell phone fell in the water, not that it would have had a signal,” Kathy interrupted.

  “As I said, when she didn’t return my calls, I found a Miami-based company that did search and rescue work, and they airlifted Katherine to safety. I came as soon as I got the word she was all right.”

  Torie shot a glance at Kathy, who didn’t look very all right. She scooted a chair closer to the bed and perched on the edge of the padded vinyl seat. “Airlifted. Sounds exciting. Big macho hard-bodies, right?”

  “Don’t remember. I was out.” Kathy fingered the tie on her hospital gown.

  “Damn it,” Torie said. “I forgot your stuff. I’ll go back to the hotel. Get you a nice nightgown, your toothbrush.”

  “No hurry.” Kathy’s eyes closed, and Torie stiffened with worry. The monitors beeped at a steady pace. She watched the numbers on the display. Although she didn’t know what they meant, they weren’t fluctuating. She took Kathy’s hand. The returned grip said she wasn’t really asleep. Torie breathed more easily.

  “Did the doctors tell you what was wrong?” Torie asked Derek. “This morning they were going to run some tests.”

  He shook his head. “I offered the resources of my lab. They said they’re used to these infections here. It’s a matter of tweaking the medications and dosages.”

  “Kathy says your company researches treatments for obscure diseases,” Torie said. “Or do you do tropical medicine too?”

  “Our primary concern is orphan diseases, yes. But research is research. If this bug spreads beyond this island, we can probably develop something.”

  “Count me in,” Kathy said. “Faster treatment would be nice.”

  “The doctor said you’ll be here at least a few more days,” Derek continued. “Don’t worry about your project. I’ll assign it to Lonnie Freeman.”

  “Lonnie?” Kathy said. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s managing,” Derek said. “It was his left hand he caught in the car door, not his right, which helps.”

  “First the broken leg, then the smashed hand. Poor guy is accident prone.”

  “Maybe he’s a klutz, like me,” Torie said.

  “Or me, for falling the
way I did,” Kathy added.

  Derek stepped back. “You need your rest. Let me know where to find your notes and I’ll be gone.”

  “My office. Desk. File drawer. Bottom left.”

  Derek rose. “Do you need a ride?” he asked Torie.

  “That would be nice,” she said.

  “Can you give us a minute, please?” Kathy asked. “I want to tell Torie what to bring me—girl stuff, you know.”

  Derek’s face reddened. He ducked his chin in Torie’s direction. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  “I'll won't be long,” Torie said.

  When he’d left, Kathy said, “My reports?”

  “I can bring those, too. I didn’t get very far. Fell asleep. Sorry.”

  A corner of Kathy’s mouth curved up. “Pretty dry stuff.”

  “Maybe if you tell me what I’m looking for, I’ll be able to pay more attention.”

  “I wish I knew. I planned to compare the two reports until—” she waved her hands—”all this happened. I thought you could look. I’d rather not say anything to Derek yet.”

  “Yeah, there’s the minor detail that nobody’s supposed to know you let anyone outside the company see the paperwork.”

  Kathy gave a wry grin. “That, too.”

  “Why not turn them over to your Lonnie Freeman guy? Wouldn’t he be a better choice?”

  “I trust you more. Lonnie can be a dweeb sometimes, and he can get lazy. If something looks funky, let me know.”

  Kathy’s eyelids fluttered.

  “Get some sleep,” Torie said. “Derek and I will come back later, okay?”

  “Ask the nurse for a pen and paper before you go. I need to make some notes about the plants I saw before I did the ass-over-teakettle thing.”

  “You are such a workaholic.” Torie put the television remote next to Kathy’s hand. “Why don’t you relax? You’re supposed to be on vacation, remember?”

  “So are you. Go find a beach hunk. Maybe you’ll find Mister Right and settle down.”

  Torie’s stomach twisted. Settling down wasn’t in the cards for her. Kathy’s plants set roots. Torie didn’t. She’d accepted the invitation to the island because she suspected her father had picked up her trail. She’d pushed things by staying in one place as long as she already had.