Under the Microscope

“The FDA investigators want you here, pronto. They found something, but they won’t tell me what.” There was a pause before Jeff said, “And there’s more. There’s a cop here named Marcus. I don’t think he’s with the FDA. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Raine’s fingers went numb on the phone, and the smell of stale smoke churned in her stomach. “We’re on our way.”

She battled sick nerves as Max drove them into New Bridge and parked in her numbered spot near the entrance of the office building that housed Rainey Days. She was tempted to babble, to give voice to the thoughts that swirled around in her head.

But she wasn’t sure whose side Max was on yet-hell, she didn’t think he knew, either. So she clamped her lips together and twisted her fingers against each other, straining with the need to reach the office, yet not wanting to be there at all.

Until she actually heard the FDA reps say full recall of everything, even the samples, and Thriller is banned from the market, the worst hadn’t happened. Not yet, anyway.

THOUGH HE STILL WASN’T SURE if the danger came from an outside source or the woman walking beside him, Max kept his senses alert as he pushed through the doors to her world.

Based on the whimsical company name and his past experiences with Raine, he’d expected something smart and creative, but with a thrown-together feeling. He’d figured she would go for something temporary. A cardboard cutout office she could pick up and move on a moment’s notice.

Instead, he walked into a slick lobby of marble and chrome, with warm hardwood floors and an inviting reception desk. A circular metal staircase off to the right ascended to a second level, where offices opened onto a New Orleans-style balcony that ran the circumference of a two-story open space. A hanging mobile of a complex molecule-maybe Thriller itself?-was suspended from the ceiling, moving lazily in an unseen current of air.

The layout was attractive and functional. Modern. Well thought-out. Permanent feeling.

Not at all what he’d expected.

A low-grade hum of activity permeated the space, but many of the offices were dark. Loose knots of workers wearing business casual were clustered in the lobby, while men and women in more formal attire-suits and dark colors-carried boxed files or hunched over computers.

The scene could have been entitled The Invasion of the FDA Investigators. Max had seen it before, several times in the course of his and William’s work.

It had almost always ended with bad news for the drug company. Surprisingly, the thought sent a stab of remorse through Max.

He glanced at Raine as they passed through the lobby and headed for the stairs. She greeted people by name, briskly but warmly, exuding a sense of purpose and control. She stopped for a brief conversation with a tech type and accepted a computer disk with a nod of thanks. She tucked the disk in the pocket of her blazer and kept walking, her businesslike strides exuding confidence.

The panicked, vulnerable-looking woman who’d fidgeted on the drive over had been replaced by a boss. A leader.

Someone who didn’t need anyone.

She’s playing you, a small voice said deep inside Max. Using you. The moment you’ve bought her some breathing room from the arson investigation and the FDA’s case, she’ll be gone some where else, living under another name and laughing at you, calling you a sucker.

Just like Charlotte.

Cursing under his breath, not sure where to draw the line between paranoia and healthy caution, he followed Raine up the spiral staircase to the second floor. By the time they entered a wide room that had glass walls overlooking the central atrium and Raine’s name painted on the door, he had forced himself into investigator mode and told himself to damn well stay there.

This wasn’t about the woman. It was about the drug. About the deaths. Maybe about the fire.

He’d do well to remember that.

In Raine’s office, three men were already seated opposite the main desk, in chairs that were an odd mix of expensive leather and cheaper chrome and upholstery.

Max nodded to Detective Marcus, who dipped his chin in response. Raine gestured toward a sandy-haired young man, who was in his mid-twenties at the top end and had tired circles beneath his blue eyes. “Max, this is Jeff Wells, my hotshot second in command. We both know Detective Marcus. And this is…?”

The third man-silver buzz-cut hair, wearing a suit and a bearing that put him somewhere between lab rat and military-said, “I’m Senior FDA Investigator Robert Bryce.” He didn’t offer his hand to shake.

Max’s suspicions quivered. Like most federal agencies, the FDA wasn’t known for its lightning-fast response times. It was highly unusual for a senior investigator to be on-site so quickly-hell it was unusual for the FDA to be on-site at all, the day after official word broke of four drug-related deaths.

Either a powerful figure was pushing buttons higher up or there was more to this than Raine had let on.

Max glanced over at her, but she avoided his eyes and took her place behind the polished desk.

Another conference-room chair sat in the corner, but Max chose to lean against the back wall. He hiked one hip up to rest on a series of built-in bookshelves containing the sort of texts and business reports he’d expect to find in the office of the head of a start-up drug acquisition company, but for some reason hadn’t expected to find in Raine’s office.

The position provided him with an overview of the scene while giving him a little distance from Raine.

You’re immune, he told himself. You know what she’s like.

Unfortunately, his libido didn’t much seem to care. Just as she’d been three years earlier, she was back in his head. Under his skin.

Business, Vasek. It’s just business.

“What have you got for me?” she asked briskly, using a no-nonsense tone Max recognized from his dealings with her former boss, Erik Falco. Maybe she’d modeled her leadership style after that of the billionaire businessman. Maybe she still carried a torch for the guy, even though he’d been married for nearly three years.

And maybe it shouldn’t matter worth a damn.

“I’d like your opinion on this data entry.” Bryce reached for a thin folder perched on the corner of the desk, extracted a pair of stapled pages and slid them toward Raine.

She glanced at the first page, stiffened and flipped to the second before looking at the senior investigator, body completely still. Her voice was measured when she said, “I’ve never seen these before. They aren’t from my database. Where’d they come from?”

Max knew her well enough to hear the shock beneath her words. But he didn’t know her well enough to be sure it was genuine.

He leaned forward to read over her shoulder and stifled a curse when he saw the words Toxicity Report and cardiac arrest. According to the report, one of the women enrolled in the Thriller clinical trial had complained of having chest pains when she’d used the drug. Cardiac monitoring had shown that the woman had shown an irregular heartbeat when given Thriller. The arrhythmia had disappeared when she’d gone off the drug.

There was no evidence of cardiac toxicity during the clinical trials, Raine had said to him, light brown eyes reflecting absolute sincerity.

Anger flared through Max, threatening to grow to a conflagration. She hadn’t lied to him about something that important.

Had she?

Chapter Five

Raine’s heart rocketed in her chest and a thousand thoughts jammed her brain, each more vital than the last.