One shoulder, clad in the simple white sundress she’d pulled over her bathing suit before leaving the boat, moved up and down. “I’ve got a bunch of samples from different places, taken over a variety of days. Hopefully they’ll tell me something I can use to help—”
As if on cue, her cell phone vibrated. She pulled it out of the pocket of the dress, looked at the caller ID, and said apologetically, “That’s my friend from the lab, actually. I have to take this. Sorry.”
She bent her head over the phone, hiding it under a fall of sunbeam hair. Marcus watched her face, more out of habit than any expectation of learning anything, so he saw the moment when the blood drained away, leaving her almost as pale as her sundress.
“What?” she said. And then, “You’re kidding me.” A pause for the person on the other end of the phone to speak some more. “All of them? You’re sure? Was anyone hurt?” Pause. “How long before you are up and running again? Shit.” That last word was uttered in a heartfelt gust of breath. “Okay, Bran. Thanks for letting me know. And I’m sorry.”
She closed the phone gently and laid it down on the table as if it were a pet snake that had suddenly turned around and bitten her without warning.
“I take it there’s a problem?” Marcus said, his voice gentler than usual when dealing with Beka.
She wrapped both hands around her beer mug. He could see the slight tremor she used the action to try to hide. “That was my friend Bran; he works at the university lab where I brought all my samples. He’d given them to some of his students as an extra-credit project. They were hoping to have the results this week.” She heaved a sigh. “He just called to tell me that the lab burned to the ground late last night. Took everything I collected with it. I’m going to have to start all over again.”
“Shit,” he echoed, taking a swig of his own beer. “That sucks. Do they know what caused the fire?”
“Could have been an accident; some student forgetting to turn off a piece of equipment that then overheated,” she said, discouragement etched into her face as deeply as the names on the table between them. “Or maybe even arson. I guess they’re considering all the options.”
“Could it have anything to do with your project?” Marcus asked. He knew as well as anyone how much collateral damage the government was responsible for, one way or the other.
Beka’s jaw dropped. “Mine? Why would anyone burn down a whole lab to stop me from getting my test results?”
“You’d know that better than I would,” he said, his voice dry. It hadn’t escaped him that she had only told him a fraction of what he’d wanted to know. “But it is worth considering.” If for no other reason than if the fire was in fact targeting Beka’s work, she could be in danger.
“There was that storm,” she said, “but I don’t see how that could have anything to do with this.” She shook her head, a strand of golden hair drifting into the nut-brown contents of her mug. She yanked it out with a scowl and dried it on her dress, unmindful of the stain. As usual, Marcus had no idea what she was talking about.
“Besides, nobody knows I’m here except the people who sent me,” she added.
“And me,” Marcus pointed out. “And whoever saw you going out on my father’s boat every day, if they knew about this secret job of yours.” He wanted to reach across the table and shake her awake. “You’re too trusting, Beka.”
“And you’re too suspicious,” she snapped. “I have bigger worries right now. Like what am I going to do about getting more samples? Not only do I have to find another lab to do the tests, I have to collect all the material again. Which would have been easier if I hadn’t just sent Fergus home.” She bit her lip.
Something that looked suspiciously like a tear trembled at the edge of her dark gold lashes, and Marcus heard himself say, “I’ll help you.”
He wasn’t sure which one of them was more surprised.
ELEVEN
KESH SHOOK HIS head. “How unfortunate,” he said to Beka in his even, lightly accented voice, only the slightest hint of a smile escaping to swim sharklike around the edges of his lips when she wasn’t looking. “All that hard work lost. Such a pity.”
Beka made a face, staring out over the darkening bay. The lingering remnants of another splendid sunset cast a copper glow on the gentle ebb and flow of the waves and picked out golden highlights in her hair. Kesh took a moment to admire her as he congratulated himself yet again for finding such an elegant solution to a tricky situation. His father should have made him king after all. The senile, crusty-gilled old fool.