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Wyatt studied Griff’s palm for an instant, then shook it, the granite in his eyes morphing to a buff gray. “Welcome. Mom’s friends are mine.”
He matched Griff for height, several inches over six feet, but he was leaner, his posture radiating confident authority. Too rough-hewn to be handsome, he was an arresting man with a cold intensity in his eyes that made Jo wonder what he’d experienced to make him so wary.
He appeared impervious to the cold and wore only a shirt rolled above his elbows. The edge of a tattoo peeked out from one shirt sleeve. Two anchors crossed and the words Semper Paratus. Jo had taken languages at university. It was Latin. Always ready.
Sophie bustled her down a hallway that was warm and welcoming with the scent of baking bread. Jo’s mouth watered as Sophie took her jacket. “Something smells amazing.”
Sophie beamed. “You’re in the right place, no? My Ty makes amazing Bolognese.” She pushed open the door to the kitchen where the rich scent of tomatoes and garlic pervaded the air.
The last thing Jo had eaten was a microwave pastry when they’d stopped to fuel the rental. Eating hadn’t been a priority. Making it here alive had been.
She drew in a slow breath, savoring the moment.
“You caught me in the middle of making bread. Helps me to think and God knows after speaking to Leo earlier today, I needed to think.” Sophie waited patiently for Griff to hand her his jacket. “Let me hang those up to dry for you.”
Jo rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling exposed, especially under Wyatt’s predatory glare. He’d perched himself on an oak bench at a kitchen table large enough to seat twelve, but at least there was no sign of his enormous gun.
The kitchen sprawled across the rear of the house and was dominated by an open fire that painted the room in warm amber hues. An older man stood beside a cast-iron stove, tending to a bubbling pot with wooden spoon in hand. He winked at Jo. “Perfect timing.” His smile lit up his eyes as he crossed the room with the fluidity of a much younger man. Jo liked him immediately.
Under a thick peppery gray hair, his nose was bumpy from a previous break, giving his face a craggy look that matched the jagged edges of pale scars tracking across the silvery stubble on his left cheek. Leo had mentioned that his uncle had suffered severe scars from his time in the military, so Jo had mentally prepared herself. However, the brutality of the scars took her breath away. What atrocities had this man experienced in the name of serving his country?
“This is my husband, Ty Meyer.” Sophie linked her arm with his. “Ty, Joanna Smith and Griff Nyland. Leo’s friends.”
Ty took Jo’s hand and pumped it up and down. “Welcome. Friends of our nephew are friends of ours.” Raised scars criss-crossed the backs of his hands as well. His grip was firm and welcoming, but this man had experienced war. It was imprinted on his flesh.
“Sir. Thank you for welcoming us to your home. It’s an honor.” Griff shook Ty’s hand after Jo.
“I think the honor works both ways. Leo mentioned you were a SEAL?”
Griff nodded. “Three tours in Afghanistan, sir.”
Ty waved a dismissive hand. “Less of the sir, it makes me feel old. You both look done in. Let’s eat and then we can discuss how we can help you.”
30
An hour and a half later, her belly full of delicious spaghetti Bolognese followed by berry cobbler, and a steaming cup of black coffee in her hand, Jo felt a little more human. Griff relaxed on the couch beside her, his knee bumping into hers. She could feel the intention in the contact, a subtle but deliberate connection that grounded her. His belief in her made physical.
Throughout the meal, Ty and Sophie had fussed over them, piling their plates high with food. But now it was time to ask Sophie the questions that had been burning through Jo’s mind the entire meal.
They’d gathered in the living room. Sophie had drawn the drapes, creating a cocoon of candlelight and flickering flames from the wood-burning stove. Right now, Jo felt safe and hidden, shielded by Griff and the protective embrace of the Meyers who had welcomed them not as strangers but as friends.
“What can we do for you? I have a few of my own thoughts, but Leo was purposefully vague on the phone. For good reason, I’m sure.” Sophie perched on the edge of her husband’s armchair. His arm circled her waist, a possessive but also tender gesture that spoke volumes of their intimate connection.
Their comfortable intimacy and obvious care for each other after a long marriage and children was clear. For the first time, Jo couldn’t help but experience a pang of longing for the same. Unfamiliar envy welled within her. This was what she wanted, to grow old with Griff, to be his partner for life, to have him look at her with a love that had stood the test of thirty years and still burned brightly.
She swallowed, her throat thick. Focus. “We came here to ask to you about your previous work.”
Wyatt frowned. “The University of Alaska?”
“No. From before, Wyatt.” Sophie touched her husband’s hand as if seeking reassurance. “You need to speak to me about Pharmasyn?”
“Pharmasyn.” Shadows gathered in Wyatt’s gaze. “That’s not a name anyone in this family is likely to forget in a hurry.”
“It was a long time ago, but ask me what you need to know and I’ll do my best to give you answers.” Sophie straightened and sipped her coffee.
Jo plowed on. “Pharmasyn is active again.”
Ty lifted an eyebrow. “Pharmasyn was shut down. They ran clandestine tests of a brain microchip on veterans without ethical approval.”
