Working Stiff

“Some of the Pharmadene people were caught in the blast, but some got out. You warned them, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I had to.”

Riley nodded slowly. “I can understand that, but now we’re stuck. The government doesn’t want to officially acknowledge what happened. Pharmadene’s executives have been detained. Their threat is done. The people who made it out were seen and captured on film; their names were recorded. If they disappear now, it looks bad.”

“Public relations. What a bitch.”

“Right now, they’re quarantined for exposure to hazardous chemicals. Just like you.” Her smile was crooked, and a little sad. “You’ve complicated everything, Bryn. But I don’t blame you. You were trying to do right. Hell, we were all trying to do right. Even Harte, in her own megalomaniacal way.”

“So what are you going to do with them? With me?”

“We seized the supplies and the production line for Returné, and quite frankly, we’re debating about whether to destroy the lot and let the whole thing die. For now, I would imagine that most of the survivors will be kept on at what used to be Pharmadene, with the story that there was a takeover … not too far from the truth. If they talk, their supply of Returné disappears forever. That’ll hold almost everyone, and the few it doesn’t will just … disappear.” Riley cocked her head a little. “And a few are going to be released on other conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“That they work for us,” she said. “We still have a rogue producer of the drug to contend with. Mr. Mercer doesn’t seem like the type to just go away.”

“He still has Annie,” she said. “I have to get her back. You understand? She’s my sister, and I have to —”

“I know. Luckily, what I’m authorized to offer you helps us both,” Riley said. “You go back to Fairview Mortuary, and find a way to make contact with Mercer again. You get your sister back, and give Mercer to us.”

“Not good enough,” McCallister said. He was standing in the doorway—leaning, really. Riley had underplayed his cuts and bruises; he looked as if he’d been in a spectacular prizefight, and been thrown through a window. “She gets a written guarantee of a permanent supply of the drug from the highest levels. She and her sister.”

“I’m not going to bullshit you. There’s no such thing as permanent. Theoretically, the nanites could sustain her life indefinitely, after all. We need some natural end to this arrangement.”

McCallister looked at Bryn and raised his eyebrows, silently asking. She nodded. “A fifty-year guarantee,” she said. “Unless I revoke it first. I always have the right to opt out.”

“You mean, commit suicide.”

“Something like that. But I control it. Not you.” Bryn took in a deep breath. “And the government doesn’t own my mortuary, by the way. I own it.”

Riley smiled. “How exactly are you going to manage that? Pharmadene was bankrolling you. I’ve seen your assets, Bryn. You don’t exactly have the capital to invest.”

Bryn felt a hot burn of anger, and a little bit of shame. Of course she didn’t have the capital. There wasn’t any need to rub it in. “You can buy it and give it to me. My tax dollars at work.”

“She doesn’t need to,” McCallister said. “I’ve been informed that the McCallister trust has acquired Fairview as part of its very large and varied investment portfolio.”

“You bought the funeral home,” Riley said, frowning.

“Not me. The estate administrator controls the trust’s investments. You’ll have to talk to him about why he made that decision.” McCallister said it straight-faced, but Bryn knew exactly who the estate administrator was. Liam.

Riley’s frown intensified, and now she looked very serious. “What the hell are you up to, McCallister? I’m warning you …”

“Easy, Riley. I’m not up to much right now, and neither are you.” He sighed. “It’s been a tough few weeks for all of us. I’m not going to war with the government over any of this, I promise. I just want some peace—for me, for Bryn. Even for you.”

Riley clearly wasn’t convinced. “You’re trying to give Bryn a safety net so she doesn’t remain dependent on us.”

“Absolutely right. Budget cuts happen, especially in black ops. She can’t rely on having you in her corner for long, and we both know it. After all, to you she’s an asset, not a person. Give her some hope for her own destiny.”

Riley shook her head and smiled. “I thought you were smarter than that, Patrick. None of us controls our destiny. Not in this day and age. Especially someone with her … special challenges.” She looked straight at Bryn. “I can authorize a fifty-year guaranteed supply of Returné, provided you carry out any assignments you’re given to earn it—the first of which is that you track down Mercer and his operation, and shut it down. Agreed?”

“Do I have any choice?” Bryn asked.

“You could see if Mercer’s offering a better deal,” Riley said, and shrugged.

Bryn met McCallister’s eyes for a moment, and then said, “I’ll take it. One condition.”

“Which is?”

“You’re fired from Fairview.”

Riley laughed, a sound of real amusement this time, and left.

McCallister limped over and sat down on the edge of Bryn’s bed, sighing in relief. She put her hand over his, and their fingers twined together.

“We have to find Annie,” she said. “No matter what, I have to get her back. I have to make this right.”

“I know,” he said. “And we both know that no matter what Riley says, you’re running on borrowed time. They won’t honor their agreements. You noticed the caveat she slipped in?”

“About assignments?” Bryn nodded slowly. “They’ll use me.”

“Until they can’t use you anymore. Then they’ll cut you off.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “I know Manny informed on us, but he’s our best bet at this point to work on a reverse-engineered replacement for Returné. He’s close to cracking it.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t either, but he’s the only nongovernment game in town except Mercer, and we need him.”

“We,” she repeated. She closed her eyes and felt a wave of darkness and despair rise up to choke her from within. “Why are you even here? Pharmadene’s gone. It’s over. You can walk away now. You should.”

“My family’s trust has a significant financial investment in Fairview,” he said. “And in you.” That sounded calm and clinical, but there was nothing clinical about the way he touched her face, so gently, and when she opened her eyes she saw that he’d dropped his guard. All his armor, split open.

She saw the look in his eyes, and her heart shattered, and healed, and broke again.

“We can’t do this,” she said. “Why the hell would you want me? I’m not—”

He put a finger over her lips. “You’re not dying anymore. I, on the other hand, still am. So I think the question isn’t why would I want you. It’s why would you bother with me? If you intend to, of course.”

She stared at him, transfixed by the glow in his eyes, by the emotion flooding out of him, unexpressed but all the more real for that.

“I guess I will,” she said. “Bother with you, I mean. I’ve got fifty years to kill, right?”

“Well, I am a good conversationalist.”

“Really. That’s all you’ve got?”

His mouth pressed hers, warm and soft, and his tongue slowly stroked her lips until they parted in a soft breath. “Not all,” he murmured. “I have all kinds of skills I can share.”

“Oh,” she whispered back. “I think I can find a use for you after all, Mr. McCallister.”

She felt his lips curl into a smile where they pressed against hers. “Is this an interview?”

“Why, do you need a job?”

His smile widened. “Actually, I do seem to be temporarily underemployed.” And then he kissed her again, more urgently this time, and she felt her heart pick up beats and start to race. “What do you say?”

“That depends,” she said, and pulled him onto the bed with her, his warmth heavy against her. “How do you feel about the death business?”

He kissed her again, and let it linger. “Actually,” he finally said, “I’m starting to like it quite a bit more than I