“What about Violet? Will she be afraid to get it?”

Brynn shook her head. “Her parents and I agreed never to mention the GX-42 to her.”

“In case it doesn’t work.”

“To hold out the hope of a miracle cure and then have her hopes dashed? That would be too cruel.”

“She knows she’s terminal?”

“The word hasn’t been used around her, but she’s clever enough to realize that she’s very sick. All the treatments she’s undergone, the grueling testing. And she’s made friends, known other children who succumbed.”

“Jesus.”

“Yet, miraculously, she retains a child’s sunny outlook. She loves Disney princesses and talks of becoming a ballerina. When she’s teased, she giggles. She squabbles with her brothers. Except for having a rare blood cancer, she’s an ordinary little girl.”

Rye rubbed his fingers across his brows, and, for several minutes he looked out the rain-streaked car window without saying anything.

She said, “You’re mulling over all the moral and ethical implications, aren’t you?”

He turned back to her. “Fair to say they’re ambiguous?”

“Fair to say. You’ve had only an hour to contemplate them. I’ve had months, Rye, and don’t believe for a moment that the conclusion is clear cut. It is playing God. Who gets the kidney, the lung, the heart? The choice is never easy.

“True, I favored Violet. But not because she is an adorable little girl, and Hunt is, well, Richard Hunt. I didn’t base my decision on who I liked best. For me, the decision came down to one thing. Time. He has it, Violet doesn’t.”

“Okay. I believe you, and I agree.”

“Then why are you gnashing your teeth?”

“What if you’re caught?”

“I will be. Because I must document every single aspect of her progression.”

“Or digression.”

“Or digression. The records will help determine the future of the drug, so they can’t be fudged. But I’ve looked at it from every angle and—”

“Every angle you know about. There are probably dozens of angles you don’t foresee, any one of which could ruin you.”

“I’ve weighed the risks, Rye. To my reputation. My career.”

“As of last night, your life was put at risk.”

“Yes! By a crashing airplane!”

He moved his face closer to hers so he could make himself heard without the driver listening in. “By two men in dark suits, Brynn. Their marching orders came from Hunt. If I hadn’t been there, what lengths would they have gone to to get that box from you? How far had they been instructed to go?”

“I grant you that their arrival on the scene was disquieting. But after Violet has the drug in her bloodstream, the contest will be over.”

“Don’t bet on it. What little I know about Hunt is that he doesn’t like to lose. He sure as hell doesn’t lose graciously. Neither does your pal Nate.”

“I expect repercussions, but I’m not letting them stop me. Because after wading through all my misgivings, juggling the pros and cons, one overriding fact remains.” She raised her index finger. “This is Violet’s last and only chance for a longer life. So I’m doing it, damn the consequences.”

“If it goes well, Lambert will come after you for claiming his crown. He’ll cry foul, parade out a long line of ethical violations. You’ll be made to answer for giving a seven-year-old a drug that hadn’t been approved.”

“Let him bring it on. Violet’s improvement would vindicate me, especially with other doctors who have patients in similar circumstances. They would rally to me.”

“Okay. If everything’s well and good, you may get a slap on the hand by some AMA review board and warned not to try a trick like that again.” He paused for emphasis. “What happens if it all goes wrong? In addition to potential legal ramifications, think worst-case scenario, Brynn.”

“Worst-case scenario would be that I had the means and opportunity to try to save Violet, and didn’t.”

“This little girl may be the last patient you’re ever allowed to treat.”

“Then she’s the one I took the Hippocratic oath for.”

Her comeback had more heat behind it than she’d intended, but she realized just how angry his third degree was making her. “Why are you so hung up on the potential consequences to me? Less than twenty-four hours ago, you wanted to know nothing about my life.”

“You’re right,” he said tightly. “Why should I give a damn about your future in medicine?”

“I just don’t understand why you shuttled me from the hotel in a mad rush to get the GX-42 to Violet, and now you’re trying to talk me out of giving it to her.”

“No I’m not.”

“Then what?”

In a thrumming voice, he said, “Because I’d like you to admit, if only to yourself, that you’re not doing this strictly for Violet. You’re also doing it for you.”

Her cheeks flamed. Furious, she tried to turn her head aside, but he captured her chin between his thumb and finger and forced her to face him. “Why, Brynn? What are you trying to prove?”

“What are you?” she fired back, lifting her chin free. “Why did you take to the sky last night, knowing the danger? Why is it you live only to be airborne? You don’t light anywhere for longer than you absolutely must. ‘I’m outta here.’ That’s your refrain. Just what is it on the ground that you’re trying to outfly?”

Still breathing hard with pent-up anger, he continued holding her stare, then said abruptly, “We’re here.”

“Oh.” Shaking off her anger, she told the driver at which entrance to let her out.

Rye said, “I’ll walk you inside.”

“There’s no need.”

“Hell there’s not,” he said. “I don’t want you winding up on the tip of one of Timmy’s knives.”

“How thoughtful.”

“I’m thinking of myself. I don’t want to live with it on my conscience.”

They got out, and he dismissed the driver. Looking around, taking in the surrounding area, he asked if the building had security.

“A guard at the public entrance, twenty-four-seven.”

They went through an open iron gate into an unsheltered courtyard where paved walkways wound around flower beds and grassy areas dotted with park benches. Brynn raised her hood to protect herself from the rain. Rye remained bareheaded.

As they entered the multistory building, Brynn spoke to the guard on duty, addressing him by name. Seated at a table, he acknowledged the greeting with a lazy wave, but never took his eyes off the small TV tuned to a crime drama.

Speaking out of the corner of his mouth, Rye said, “If he’s security, I don’t feel all that safe.”

“You’re the most disreputable-looking person I’ve ever seen in here.”

“That’s what bothers me. He didn’t give me a second glance.”

They walked along the deserted corridor to the bank of elevators. She punched the up button.

He said, “You still have the stuff?”

She patted her coat pocket. “I’m glad the pharmacologist had the foresight to seal it in bubble wrap.”

“Yeah, it’s seen some miles since it left the lab.”

Although there was no one in sight except the guard, Rye remained watchful and edgy, aware of every motion and sound. Noticing that he was flexing and contracting his fingers again, she said, “You really should put something on those cuts.”

“When I can get around to it.” He glanced up toward the ceiling. “What floor is she on?”

“Three.”

He nodded as though that was of major importance. She supposed the small talk was in lieu of more quarreling. Weary of both, she gave him a small smile. “Only family members and pre-approved friends are allowed upstairs, so we have to say goodbye here.” As she thought on something, she laughed softly.

“What’s funny?”

“It occurs to me that this is our third goodbye today. At the hospital this morning, Nate’s office, now here.”

“May be a Guinness record.”

“May be.” As she looked into his eyes, her smile faltered. “I take back what I said a minute ago about the crashing airplane.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I want to say…This wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for you, flying last night when no one else would. Thank you, Rye.”

“You already said it.”

“I’m saying it again.”

He negated the need for the additional gratitude with an uneasy roll of his shoulders.

The elevator arrived. Before the door opened, he tensed as though expecting someone to pounce out of it. But the cubicle was empty. He placed his hand on the door to hold it open.

“Twenty-four hours to spare,” he said.

“But I’m going to start the drip right away.”

He bobbed his chin. “Good luck. I’ll know it got Violet well when you get famous.”

“That’s not why I’m doing this.”

“I know.”

“Don’t leave thinking that.”

“I don’t.”

There was so much more she wanted to say, but the more she said, the less talkative he became. “Take care, Rye.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed him chastely on the cheek.