Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“What’s this place? A pharma company?” Jordan asks as he climbs out. “I’m not here for a flu shot, right?”
Mag steps out of the car, grinning as he helps me out.
“No needles, I promise. What you should know is, everything’s negotiable,” Mag says matter-of-factly. “First rule of business. Will you remember that, J-man?”
“Dude, why?” Jordan asks, irritation flaring in his voice. “Just hold your big speeches and tell me why we’re here.”
Mag turns, bathing me in an excited look before facing Jordan’s impatient gaze again.
“Because. I negotiated a full tour of the chem lab into the contract with our client here. I’m supporting your future career in science. You’re welcome.” Mag gives his brother a proud smile.
“You—what? Whoa.” Jordan’s eyes become huge and he grins. “We’re touring a lab? Like, a real one?”
“Yep. I wouldn’t waste your time with a fake.” Mag winks.
“Finally something cool!” Jordan yells, pumping his fist in the air.
A man lets us in the building and shakes Mag’s hand. “Are you the Heron party? Welcome.”
“Yes.” He motions to me. “My EA, Sabrina Bristol.” He motions to Jordan. “And this is my younger brother, Jordan Quail.”
“Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Grant Dreer, the owner of this company and grandson of the founder.” He nods to me, then Jordan. “Follow me.”
We walk through a long off-white hallway and stop in front of a heavy blue door. “This is the lab we’ll be touring today, but you’ll each need to grab a jacket and safety gear first.” He points to hooks on the wall where white lab coats hang.
We each grab one and pull it on.
He moves deeper into a nearby closet and frowns. “Sorry, looks like we’re one short. I’m going to get goggles, but I’ll need you all to stay right here until I’m back. I can’t let anyone in the lab without safety goggles.”
“Why?” Jordan asks.
“Liability reasons,” Grant says with a benevolent smile in the boy’s direction. “If you get hurt in a chem lab wearing goggles, the insurance policy covers it. If not, the shareholders do, and they get mighty upset about that.”
He goes behind the door and comes back with goggles for each of us. “You interested in pharmaceuticals, son?”
“Yeah. Sort of.” Jordan nods, more eager than I’ve ever seen him, but trying to play it cool.
“I’m going to get helmet hair,” I groan, pulling the goggles over my face. The rubber strap in the back bunches up my hair.
“So tragic.” Mag puts his goggles on. “You’re cute as hell with helmet hair.”
Heaven help me, I blush.
“Gag,” Jordan whispers.
Mag laughs and we all follow Grant into the lab. He points out the different chemicals in the lab and what drugs they’re used in before explaining the bewildering production process. He doesn’t flinch when Jordan bombards him with questions.
Grant points to a cabinet of vials filled with bright liquids. “Those are used in chemotherapies. The only reason they aren’t fatal is because each one gets mixed one part to a hundred with more neutral compounds.”
“So if I just grabbed a bottle—” Jordan starts.
“If it got on your skin, it would likely do damage similar to carpet burns. If you ingested it, you’d die. So you’d be wise to keep your hands to yourself.”
“Wow,” Jordan says, and it’s his turn to blush. He’s quiet for a minute. “Do you have anything to, like, wake a person up from a coma?”
We both freeze.
Grant frowns, looking at Mag for an explanation, but he doesn’t give one.
“Hmm, we have a couple drugs to induce—put people into—comas, but nothing that reverses the process. With our drugs, when you stop administering them, they’ll often wake right up. Intravenous anti-inflammatories can sometimes help with brain swelling caused by non-medically induced comas...”
I’m not listening. I just step forward with Mag’s hand on my shoulder, and hug the kid until it hurts.
“She’s getting everything she needs. I promise.”
“Listen to Sabrina,” Mag whispers, roughing up Jordan’s hair.
After a few moments, Jordan says in a very quiet voice, “Thanks, you guys. I mean—not just for today, but for taking care of Mom.”
My heart breaks a little before I pull it back together.
Mag looks over, only for a second, before smiling at his younger brother. “No problem. That’s what families do.”
22
On the Desk (Magnus)
Brina’s nimble fingers clack away on her keyboard on the other side of my desk, a thoughtful look on her face.
On the scale of sweetheart to siren, she’s a perfect ten dick tease when she’s entranced with her work, innocent and oblivious to how bad I want to disrupt her.
I keep glancing at her over my laptop, wondering when she’ll look at me.
No luck.
She’s that focused, and it’s fucking sexy as blazes just like everything she does.
It’s a cool night in March, just past dusk with the stars beginning to shine through Chicago’s light pollution. The days are getting longer.