Occasionally, she would fall into a romantic relationship, but none of the men had meant as much to her as her quest for success. Only one had broken her heart with his repeated infidelities, but one day she came to the realization that he wasn’t worth the anger and anguish she’d spent on him. She’d excised him without regret.

All the sacrifices had paid off. She was now affiliated with a hospital that was renowned for its research. She was financially secure and self-sufficient in every area of her life. She’d earned the respect of her colleagues. Her patients trusted and relied on her.

Most important, Brynn O’Neal relied on no one.

But as Rye Mallett shut the bathroom door in her face, she acknowledged that she was out of her element and at a total loss as to what she should do next.

Having squeaked past the authorities, she wasn’t going to draw them back in by reporting herself stranded with—she wouldn’t go so far as to say kidnapped by—Rye Mallett. Bringing the attention of law officers to herself was the last thing she wanted, and she reasoned that Rye had counted on that reluctance.

And the two men in the café? Had they been responsible for the events of last night, as Rye suspected? If so, and if it was the box they were after, she could be in danger from them.

If she were physically able to wrangle the box from Rye, or if she demanded he give it back, and he did so without contest, what would she do then? Strike out on foot? She’d seen Rye slip Marlene’s key fob into the front pocket of his jeans, so there was no retrieving it, and, even if she could, she wouldn’t steal the lady’s car.

It seemed that she was stuck. But she couldn’t remain in this limbo state. She had to come up with a solution, and fast. At Deputy Wilson’s suggestion, she had texted Nate from the café, but she’d been ambiguous about her departure time. She’d told him “soonish.” He hadn’t texted a reply, but that wasn’t unusual. He often couldn’t be bothered.

Even so, he and the Hunts would expect her to be halfway to Atlanta by now.

Whatever fallout she faced when she got there, she had to get there, and her options had dwindled down to one.

Rye came out of the bathroom.

He was fully dressed except for his boots. He’d swapped his wrinkled shirt for another that was just as wrinkled, but smelled of fresh laundry. It was buttoned only halfway up. His hair appeared to have been roughly towel-dried and left at that. But he had trimmed his scruff. Through the door, she’d heard the whirr of an electric razor.

“I left you a towel,” he said as he slid his leather bag off his shoulder and returned it to the chair. He then moved to the opposite side of the bed from where she sat and flung back the bedspread. He snapped off the lamp on the nightstand and lay down on his side, facing away from her, hugging the black box against his chest like a teddy bear.

As though standing on the end of a high diving platform and about to take a plunge into icy waters far below, she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “GX-42.”

He rolled onto his back and turned his head toward her. “What?”

“That’s the formula name the pharmacologist gave the drug he’s been developing.”

“Pharmacologist.”

“I’m not trying to take lives, Rye. I’m trying to save them. Or at least extend them.”

He looked deeply into her eyes as though searching for duplicity.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “Why all the secrecy?”

“GX-42 is an experimental drug that hasn’t yet been FDA-approved for clinical trials.”

“You mean on people.”

“Yes. How much do you know about drug development?”

“Give me the version for dummies.”

“By the time a new drug is marketed, it’s been put through rigorous and endless testing. It must pass through three stages. That doesn’t sound like many, but each stage of testing stretches out for months, more often years.”

“Okay.”

“That applies to your everyday big money-makers with a large market, like a new beta blocker or anti-inflammatory. It’s an even longer process for an orphan drug.”

“What’s that?”

“A drug being developed to treat a rare disorder. It would benefit a comparably small number of people.”

“So those drugs get low priority.”

“Not as low as they got before the Orphan Drug Act was passed several years ago. But research funding relies almost solely on grants. GX-42 is an orphan drug. But this company has devoted personnel, money, and years to developing it. It’s passed the first two stages. Clinical trials are the final. GX-42 has been submitted, but as yet hasn’t been approved.”

“And your patient can’t wait around for it to get the green light. There’s nothing you can do to hurry the agency along?”

“There is what’s called expanded access. Compassionate use. It’s an exemption made for a patient when all other treatment options have been exhausted.”

“Last-ditch effort.”

“Yes. The FDA is open to granting these exemptions, but certain criteria must be met. The requirements are stringent. The request must be filed by a physician for a particular patient. Nate and I have applied for one. The review board is still considering our application.”

Rye assimilated all that. “So, the box. You had the drug smuggled in from another country where it’s already in use?”

She had no reason whatsoever to trust this man. If what he’d told her was true, he lived the life of a vagabond. He was rude and came across as being self-interested, indifferent to anyone’s welfare except his own.

Yet he felt obligated to his friend Dash for the loss of his airplane, and to Brady White. He’d intervened when the aviation memorabilia was about to be dusted with black powder. Marlene White had seen some honor in him, or she wouldn’t have trusted him with her car.

What Brynn had to tell him was a thousand times more consequential than the loan of a car, but she was convinced that he wasn’t going to end this standoff until she enlightened him, and she had little time to spare.

“No,” she said. “There’s a similar drug being tested on a small group of patients in Europe. GX-42’s capabilities exceed that one.” She looked across at the box. “Last night, a single dose was smuggled out of the lab.”

“Something Corp. I saw the name on the air bill.”

She nodded. “Researchers there have seen amazing results in test animals. They trust the drug’s safety and effectiveness. Nate and I trust them.”

“You believe it will work.”

“I believe it’s worth trying on patients who have no other hope, and who are being denied even that hope because of a rubber stamp.”

“These patients have nothing to lose.”

“Except their lives.”

“What about negative side effects? Could it make the patient worse off, not better?”

“That’s one of the beauties of it. During the past year of testing, the lab animals that died did so of the cancer, but didn’t suffer any harmful effects of the drug.”

“How’s it given?”

“An IV infusion.”

“Okay. Just so I’m clear. You and Lambert conspired with a pharmacologist at this drug-manufacturing outfit to make up a batch and send it to you, so you could give it to a patient who has blood cancer.”

“With anomalies that make this malignancy particularly rare.”

“Did money change hands?”

She lowered her gaze. “How very perceptive of you.”

“Not really. Everything is about money. Let me guess, Lambert is willing to spend some coin to buy himself a Nobel Prize.”

She shook her head. “The patient is spending the coin.”

“Ah. I remember Lambert saying the patient was high-profile.”

“Powerful. Wealthy. A household name to many.”

“Give me a hint.”

“No.”

“Male or female?”

“No.”

“You can trust me, Brynn.”

“I’ve trusted you enough to confess to something that could land me in prison.”

“Maybe they’ll put you in a cell near your old man.”

She didn’t return his teasing grin.

“Sorry,” he said, looking it. “Bad joke.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He stared thoughtfully into her eyes and said in a soft voice, “I think it does.”

That also was perceptive of him. Too perceptive for comfort. She struck back with impatience. “What matters most is time.”

“The patient is that critical?”

“No. Yes. But that’s not the reason for the haste. Once the compound is mixed, it has a short shelf life of forty-eight hours. That’s been one of the more practical reasons its approval has been withheld.”

“But also why it had to be flown in last night.”

“Exactly. And why I must return with it today. Now. But instead of speeding back…” She spread her arms in a gesture that encompassed the room and the situation.

“Who are the two heavies, Brynn?”

“I have no idea.”

“Come on.”

“I swear!”

“Well, I would swear that they were also at the airfield last night to meet the plane.”

“Why would they attack Brady?”

“So he wouldn’t call in a 911 when I crashed. They needed time to intercept you.”

“You’re guessing.”

“You think I’m wrong?”