Lost Immunity Daniel Kalla (reading women TXT) 📖

never seen him this ferocious. Her face feels as if it’s on fire, and she can’t fight back her sudden tears. “Max…”

“Do you know how much time I’ve invested? How much I’ve already lost? How long I’ve had to wait for a moment like this?”

Her words won’t come, and she can only shake her head.

“You’re damn right I’m going to celebrate this! I’m sorry for those kids, but I wouldn’t change a thing.” He holds her gaze with an intensity that frightens her. “You can’t win a war without a few casualties.”

CHAPTER 47

Lisa stares at her screen without digesting the contents of the spreadsheet splashed across it. It’s after ten p.m., and she’s exhausted. But she can’t bring herself to go home and face the prospect of explaining to her husband how her professional life is unraveling in front of her eyes. It’s not that he wouldn’t understand; her weakest moments often bring out the best in Dominic. But the last thing she wants right now is his pity. So, when Nathan texts to tell her that he’ll be leaving Seattle at the crack of dawn, she responds without thinking that she will come over to say good-bye in person.

The day, which Lisa thought couldn’t get any worse after her visit to the morgue, kept finding inventive ways to do just that. Six new cases of meningitis were reported across the city with three more deaths. She had to run a gauntlet of reporters and cameramen outside of her building. And no sooner had she reached her office than she received a terse call from the governor, demanding to know what went wrong with the vaccination campaign.

Lisa walks into the lobby of Nathan’s hotel, aware of how risky it is to come this late in the evening feeling as vulnerable as she does. With or without alcohol, her judgment is already impaired, which becomes even more apparent to her when she steps into the bathroom to fix her hair and reapply lipstick. But as she rides the elevator to his suite on the thirty-fourth floor, she also realizes that it’s the first time in days she’s looked forward to something. She has no idea how she might respond if Nathan touches her the way he did the night before. But she doubts she would be as quick to leave this time.

The elevator door opens, and a few butterflies wing inside her chest as she walks down the corridor toward his room. She hesitates at the door, her arms as frozen as her feet. Then her hand drifts toward the door, as if it has a mind of its own, and gently knocks.

Moments later, Nathan fills the doorway. He’s unshaven and wears jeans with a black T-shirt—a look Lisa can’t help but find appealing. He steps forward and wraps her in a hug that feels more intimate than it should. But she finds comfort in the firmness of his arms and the warmth of his cheek against hers, so she lingers in the embrace until he finally lets go.

He leads her inside the spacious suite, which boasts a view of the water to match the one from the rooftop bar. Beyond the couches and coffee table, the sliding door to the bedroom is partly open. The bed is made, and a half-packed suitcase rests on it.

Nathan walks over to the makeshift bar on the side table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“What are you having?” she asks.

He lifts a crystal tumbler—which looks to be almost down to the ice except for a few drops of brownish liquid—and swirls it in his hand. “On a day like today there’s not much choice, is there?”

“Bourbon?”

“Scotch.”

“Can’t do whiskey.” She chuckles. “A misadventure in the eleventh grade that ended in the emergency room has led to a lifelong self-imposed ban.”

“Wine, then?”

“Sure?”

“Bordeaux OK?”

“I guess.” She laughs. “I’ll slum it this once.”

He uncorks a bottle of red and pours her a glass. Then he refills his own tumbler from a bottle that she assumes to be an expensive single malt.

Nathan hands her the nearly full wineglass. “To pipe dreams,” he says, tapping his glass to hers.

“That’s a morbid toast.”

“What do you suggest?”

“To brave gambles,” she says, clinking glasses again.

She sits down on the couch and, despite the other chairs in the room, he lowers himself beside her.

Lisa places her phone on the coffee table and then says, “I need to ask you something.”

He motions with his glass. “Please.”

“Those phase-three studies on Neissovax. Is it possible…?”

“That the study investigators covered up bad skin reactions like the ones we’ve been seeing here?” he asks calmly.

“Yeah.”

“Anything’s possible, but why? Those studies were carried out by reputable and independent scientists who would have zero to gain by manipulating the data. And even if we had the world’s sketchiest investigators in our back pocket, why would we hide something like this if we knew it was only going to come to light as soon as the vaccine went to market? We could’ve cut our losses and quietly pulled the plug in the trial phase. But now? This is an unparalleled disaster for Delaware.”

“I suppose.”

“Tomorrow I’m going to have face the music back in New York. And that music is going to sound a hell of a lot like gunshots from a firing squad.”

She frowns. “How can they blame you?”

“Easy. I’m the one who was supposed to ensure none of this happened.”

“Basically God, then?”

“Basically.” He shrugs. “With more fiscal accountability.”

“That’s not right, Nathan. Especially since I’m the one who drew you into this.” It’s her turn to reach out and clutch his wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You were trying to do your job. To protect the public.”

“Maybe, but the irony is I ended up exposing the public to even more risk. And you know what’s worse?”

“It gets worse?” He chuckles grimly.

“We struggle every day to convince people of the essential need for vaccination. And we depend on a near-global buy-in to establish herd immunity. There’s already so much