methodically ruling it out until the correct one was found. This could take all night.
Disheartened, she set to work, booting up the machines. The password was no problem; she used SHADO’s bypass code the top brass shared only in need- to-know cases. This being one of them, in order to get the dirt on their own man.
Running the virus-search program she’d used to locate the other files, she resigned herself to the boring task. Four hours later, she was on the next- to-last machine when the message popped onto the screen.
VIRUS LOCATED.
She bolted upright, blinking at the screen for a few seconds before it registered. She’d found it.
A few commands later, she had the worm isolated, but like the others, it wasn’t a readable file. The damned thing was encrypted, not her area of expertise. Oh, she could figure it out, but it would take her several days to crack. Days she didn’t have, with Dietz phoning tomorrow.
But if she could stall him… yes. She might be able to put Dietz off long enough to take a good look at this little gem that had him sweating. She wasn’t sure how she’d avoid him, but she’d manage.
Feeling better with this plan, she downloaded the file to the thumb drive, double- checked to be certain it was there, then destroyed the worm on the hard drive. Poof. Gone as if it had never been.
She started to fry all of Jude’s computers, but knew once the house was empty, SHADO would just send in a cleanup crew anyway, so there was no need.
She shut everything down again and, after taking a last look around, grabbed her flashlight, turned off the light, and made her way back upstairs. Emerging in the closet once more, she wondered if this was how Alice had felt after going down the rabbit hole and coming back. Like traveling between parallel universes.
After secreting the thumb drive in one of her locked cases, she undressed and again settled herself between Jude and Liam. She wanted to retreat to her own room and hide, but they would be concerned to awaken and find she hadn’t wanted to stay.
So she remained there.
But sleep didn’t come for a very long while.
Jude came awake as though from a deep, dark tunnel. The first thing he became aware of was that he ached all over. Bone deep. His head hurt, too, but not like one of his migraines. No, this was different.
He rolled to his side, and that’s when the nausea began. Low and ominous, in the pit of his belly. Roiling like a stormy ocean.
“Oh, God.”
He was going to throw up. Any second.
Scrambling off the bed, he stumbled in the direction of his bathroom. He didn’t have time to grope for his cane, didn’t care.
Hitting the doorjamb hard with his shoulder, he grunted and fell inside, crawling. Felt desperately for the toilet because he couldn’t stop-
There. He shoved the lid open and lost the meager contents of his stomach, heaving until he sat with his forehead on the rim, shaking and miserable.
“Liam? Guys?”
Nothing. From somewhere in the house the aroma of breakfast cooking finally made its way into his consciousness. Another round of vomiting greeted that smell and he groaned, willing the floor to stop moving.
The minutes stretched on forever as he sat, weak as a baby, waiting for the sickness to pass so he could head downstairs. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been ill. Hadn’t had the flu in years. But that had to be the cause, with the allover pain, feeling like he’d been dropped from a high-rise.
After a bit, he pushed up and fumbled along, made his way to where he thought he’d left his cane. It had fallen on the floor beside his bed and he bent to retrieve it. When he stood, dizziness nearly toppled him.
He breathed through the waves and paused long enough to put on a pair of shorts, then lurched across the room and into the hallway. Deciding against the stairs, he took the service elevator Liam used for his rolling carts, damned glad it would put him out near the kitchen.
The doors slid open and he walked the remaining few feet with cement shoes, sicker than he’d been in his entire life. He knew he’d made the kitchen when he heard Liam call out his usual cheerful greeting. Jude just couldn’t understand the words.
“Liam,” he rasped. “I’m sick… I hurt so fucking bad…” His body folded and he couldn’t stop his fall. He heard Liam’s startled shout as he hit the floor, cheek on the cool tile. Felt strong arms cradling him.
And he slid into blessed oblivion.
Lily was hanging out with Liam in the kitchen, watching him cook breakfast, when Jude staggered in.
He looked like death.
“Hey, big guy! Ready for some bacon-” Liam turned and his eyes widened at the sight of Jude disheveled, white as a sheet.
“Liam,” he rasped. “I’m sick… I hurt so fucking bad…”
“Shit!” The younger man lunged for Jude as he crumpled to the floor, but he was too far away.
Jude’s head smacked the tile with an awful thump, cane clattering from his outstretched hand. Carefully, Liam pulled Jude into his arms, smoothing the long auburn hair from his face.
“Jude!” he cried, pressing shaking fingers to the side of the other man’s neck. “Oh, my God, his heart is racing. His pulse is too fast.”
Lily dropped to her knees beside them, checking for herself. “I agree. I think we should take him to the emergency room. I’ll drive.”
A safe bet, since the doctors wouldn’t find anything in his blood. They would be puzzled, but would say he’d picked up a bug and send him home, telling them to put him to bed.
Liam only nodded, face panicked. He stood, lifting his burden, practically carrying the larger man by himself to the Mercedes while she turned off the burners under their breakfast.
Between the two of them, they managed to get him into the back seat of the car, Liam cradling his head in his lap. Jude’s friend was inconsolable, widening the crack in her heart.
“Please be okay,” he whispered, over and over. “Don’t you die on me and leave me all alone. Not now.”
They arrived at the nearest hospital in fifteen minutes, Lily screeching to a stop outside the ER. The first dose had hit him harder than she’d thought it would; the third would probably kill him outright.
A doctor and a couple of nurses came running with a gurney and whisked their patient inside. Liam stared after them, devastated. Lost.
Only then did she realize her face was wet, too.
“Mr. St. Laurent?”
The greeting was strange. Distorted. He was underwater, struggling to the surface. Almost there, but not quite.
Blackness.
Next time, he was more aware. Heard them discussing blood tests. Heart rate. Other terms that escaped him.
“Mr. St. Laurent?”
He licked his dry lips. “Yes.”
“Good, you’re back!”
Whoop-dee-fucking-do.
“I’m Dr. Cline. How do you feel?”
“Chewed up and shit out,” he croaked. “What happened?”
