Lori Wilde - Racing Against the Clock

And then there were the horrific side effects that turned ordinary people with type O blood into vicious beasts.

To let Tyler in on her secret would be tantamount to signing his death warrant. If Daycon suspected she told anyone about Virusall, she knew the man would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary to protect himself and his CIA cohort.

She had to get to Marcus before Daycon figured out what she was planning, and she had to get out of this hospital before his henchmen discovered she had not died in the car crash.

“Concerning these tests,” Hannah asked Tyler. “What do you have in mind?”

“X rays, more blood work.”

“How long?”

“Three, four hours tops.”

“Sorry. I can give you an hour. That’s all. Do what you can in that length of time—after that, I’ll be gone.”

“Fair enough.” He surprised her by agreeing.

Cocking her head, she studied him, wondering what his motivation was in opening his house to her. He had told her she was special. What had he meant by that? Was it because her vanishing illness fascinated him? Had someone helped him when he was down and out? Or was there something more?

He was a handsome man, tall and lean. His hands, long and slender, belonged to a surgeon. His hair was dark brown, his eyes an even darker shade of chocolate. There was a brushstroke of gray at each temple and a few laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes. An air of refinement clung to him and yet at the same time he exuded a rugged masculinity. A hunter who listened to Mozart. A soldier who studied fine art. A man as comfortable skiing in the Rockies as he would be at a wine-tasting party.

She could not deny her attraction to him, but Hannah didn’t employ her physical urges to form opinions or make decisions. Her parents had taught her that nothing was more important than a clear head and a practical mind. Affairs of the hearts were reserved for sentimentalists and fools and she was neither.

Her parents, though they professed to love her, had not been the type to offer kisses, hugs or even many words of praise. Hannah had been expected to perform to the best of her ability and she had strove to please them. She had earned a bachelor’s degree in chemistry by age sixteen, had a master’s by eighteen and at age twenty had been the youngest woman ever to earn a Ph.D. in pharmacology from the University of Texas. In fact, it had been her burning desire to honor the memory of her parents and the high standards they had set which led her to discover the phenomenal Virusall.

She had always been on the outside looking in, the girl who was out of step with everyone else her age. Because of her up-bringing, Hannah had never been very good with people, but it was this trait that made her such a dedicated researcher. She possessed an analytical mind and she enjoyed being alone. She didn’t easily succumb to the emotional pull of others and she held herself to lofty standards.

But right now Tyler Fresno was tugging at her with the force of a high-powered magnet.

“Do you know where my clothes are?” She ran a hand through her unruly hair. Furrowing her brow, she wished for lipstick and a hairbrush. She must look a fright and although Hannah wasn’t given to vanity, she found herself wanting to look nice for him. Why?

“Perhaps they’re down here.” He turned and bent over to pick up the sack she had been trying to reach when he had come into the room and caught her with her backside in the air.

This turnabout was fair play.

She propped herself up on her elbows and watched with interest as she got a glimpse of his rear-end. Unfortunately, doctors’ scrub suits did not offer the same uninhibited view as an open-back hospital gown. Still, she enjoyed running her eyes down the length of his lanky form. She wasn’t one for ogling men, but for this guy she would make an exception.

“Here you are.” He handed her the paper bag.

Hannah peered inside and was alarmed to see her clothes matted with dirt and blood.

Tyler must have read her mind because in the next minute he said, “Tell you what—I’ll get you a set of scrubs to wear. What are you?” He squinted, raking his gaze over her. “An extra small?”

“Yes, but a small will do fine and thank you. That’s very considerate.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled and Hannah felt warm and tingly all over.

A girl could fall for a guy like him.

She had to be careful. Hannah had spent so much time in a laboratory, she knew very little about the opposite sex or how to handle herself in the presence of a man she found attractive.

“I’ll just draw a vial of blood first,” Tyler said. He opened a supply drawer. “Damn, we’re out of purple-top tubes. Just hang on a minute while I pop over to the lab for the right tube.”

“I’m leaving in a hour,” she warned.

“Okay, fine. I’ll just go ahead and draw your blood and then carry the specimen to the lab in the syringe. I can put it in the correct tube when I get there.”

“Thank you.” She beamed at him.

He wrapped a yellow rubber tourniquet around her arm and palpated a vein in the bend of her elbow. “Make a fist for me.”

After drawing her blood, he then put the syringe into a red bag marked with a biohazard chemical emblem.

It was after eleven o’clock and Danny was getting ready to leave for the night when Tyler walked into the lab.

“Here’s the blood on Jane Doe,” he said.

“Lad, your timin’ leaves a lot to be desired,” Danny grumbled good-naturedly and started to shrug out of the coat he’d just put on.

“No, no, go on. I’ll put it in a purple-top tube and label it for the next shift,” Tyler offered.

“You’re a saint, you are.”

“Off with you.”

Danny headed for the door.

Tyler removed the syringe from the red plastic bag and took off the needle cap. He started to push the needle into the tube’s rubber stopper but his hand slipped and he accidentally plunged the needle into the pad of his thumb.

“Yeow!”

“What’s the matter?” Danny turned back and paled when he saw the syringe of blood protruding from Tyler’s thumb.

“I slipped.”

“Ah, Laddie. I shouldna let you done that,” Danny castigated himself. “It’s my job.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tyler said, trying to appear casual when his heart was racing. He’d just been stuck with a patient’s blood and he didn’t even know her HIV status.

Jane Doe wasn’t HIV positive.

How do you know? Just because you don’t want her to have AIDS doesn’t make it so. Her blood work is abnormal.

Danny took the syringe and blood tube away from Tyler. “Go wash up at the sink and mind you fill out an incident report on this. You’ll have to get tested and so will she.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tyler washed his hands at the sink and tried his best to ignore his throbbing thumb. He would live.

But would his beautiful mystery woman?

By the time the X-ray technician wheeled her back to the emergency room, Hannah was more than ready to see the last of Saint Madeleine’s. A knock sounded on the door and she looked up to spy Tyler standing in the doorway, a blue scrub suit in his hands and a smile hovering at his lips.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded, relieved. “Do I need to go to the billing office?” she asked. “It’s going to be tough. I don’t have any identification. To be honest, I don’t know if I have health insurance or not.”

This was the truth. After her run-in with Daycon, she figured her old boss would not be inclined to pay her medical bills. Especially since he would rather cover her funeral expenses instead, but not until he got his hands on Virusall.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tyler said. “I’ve already checked you out of the hospital.”