Power Trip(22)

He frowned. “It’s just a little pinch.”

Not for her. Needles were torture. “Listen…” She glanced at his name tag. “John. Neither one of us is going to like what happens if you jab me with that needle. Trust me. You don’t need my DNA to identify me unless I’ve committed a crime, right? Last I checked, working on a Sunday wasn’t against the law.”

“But you don’t have your ID.”

“No, I don’t,” she stalled, trying to decide exactly how much she cared about the effect of dietary aluminum on fetal mice. Bad enough to risk her mental health and this guy’s life if he stuck her with that needle? Just as she decided no, the door to the lab opened and her boss walked out.

“Peter! Thank God. Would you vouch for me? Please? I don’t have my ID and the guard won’t let me in.”

Peter grinned. “Good job, John. She’s dangerous.”

Audrey rolled her eyes. “Only if you’re a mouse.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He nodded at the guard and put his arm around her shoulders.

Gratitude warmed her as he led her toward the lab, but it struck her as odd that he didn’t release her. Peter usually wasn’t a toucher, and his friendly embrace raised prickles of alarm. He stroked her hair and she craned her neck to look up at him. She saw sympathy in his eyes.

She rushed to the empty shelf where her cages should have been.

“I put them in the cooler,” Peter said quietly.

“All of them?” she asked, stunned.

He nodded. “What were you working on this time?”

“Nothing I thought would be fatal.” She opened the cooler and stared at the stiff bodies of the still-gravid rodents in the bag. She had planned to share her hypothesis about aluminum with her co-workers when she had some measurable results. Death wasn’t the result she had been expecting.

“Want to go get something to eat?” Peter asked.

Yum, dead mice make me hungry! She silenced the frustrated retort that crossed her mind. Peter was just trying to cheer her up. It wasn’t his fault. She gave him a smile instead. “No thanks. I think I’ll do the autopsies.”

“You can’t. The cleaning crew is here.”

“What?”

“Sunday is the best time to schedule maintenance, given that most folks aren’t here. Just freaks like us, who work all the time.”

“Are you sure I can’t…” She heard a vacuum go on.

He shook his head. “No dead animals on display when the crew is working. It’s in the contract. Change your mind about lunch?” he asked, looking hopeful. “My treat.”

She almost said yes, but then he put his arm around her again and gave her a squeeze.

She forced herself not to pull away. “I had a late breakfast. I think I’ll just go home and work on some things, maybe see if I can find my ID.” She knew she was babbling, but what the hell was going on? Peter had never shown the slightest interest in her, and she would have noticed because she’d sneaked plenty of looks at him. He was everything she admired in a man—hardworking, dedicated to science and low-maintenance. Like her, he was wearing a T-shirt under his white lab coat and jeans with his tennis shoes, showing they also shared an appreciation of function over fashion.

She never felt awkward around him, so why did her face suddenly feel hot and her palms sweaty? Why was her heart racing? Classic symptoms of adrenalin rush. Last week she would have assumed she was excited he was paying attention to her. Today, he made her skin crawl. What had changed?

Calvin, a variable who smelled like smoke and made music when he touched her.

She cleared her throat and edged away from Peter. “See you in the morning?”

“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll walk you out.”

It was easier to say yes than no; he was her boss, after all. “I’ll just grab my laptop so I can go over data.” She hurried into her office but her computer wasn’t sitting on her desk. Had she brought it home with her last night? If she had, it was still in the car because she hadn’t carried it into her house last night or used it today.

She left her office. Peter was waiting with his own laptop bag slung over his narrow shoulder. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, still trying to retrace her steps last night. Maybe Cal had shifted it under the passenger seat? They reached the parking lot. “Thanks, Peter, see you tomorrow.”

She slid into her car and shut the door, automatically fastening her seatbelt. He waved, but didn’t move toward his own vehicle until she drove away. As soon as he was out of sight, she reached under the passenger seat. No laptop. Shit.