destroyed along with the lab. I was minding my own business in Seattle when Zak called me in. Cole met me at the gate after a twelve-hour flight. There’s no way I could have done this. Even if I had the ability to be in two places at once, why would I have done it? To what purpose?”
He twisted the wheel and floored the gas pedal, overtaking two cars in the fast lane. He zipped in front of them, waiting a few seconds until the sounds of the car horns were lost behind them. “I have no idea how you think. I’ve never had any idea how you think.”
“Clearly, I had no idea how you think either, so we’re even.”
It didn’t matter what the hell the drug was—he wanted the person or persons responsible found and brought to justice. Dakota was right about that. “Blood work’s been sent to a local lab. Let’s see which of you is right.” He ran his hand over his hair.
“They’re wrong,” Dakota told him flatly. “I told you before, Ecstasy could cause that kind of euphoria, but that spike in libido and total breakdown of inhibitions indicates DL6-94. It’s not Krokodil, which is a completely different and dangerous drug, with completely different and dangerous side effects. The end result, however, is they both guarantee death. I can’t confirm that this is Rydell’s formula, but I’m taking an educated, well-informed guess. I won’t know one hundred percent for sure until I talk to some of the victims and see the lab report. You must’ve questioned everyone affected. I’ll start with any reports you’ve compiled—”
“Everyone’s still at the hotel. Several under doctors’ care. Two people had mild heart attacks, and Dunham’s grandmother put her back out. Although,” Rand’s lips quirked, “she admitted to me that she’d never had such great sex in all her eighty-plus years, and she could now die with a smile.” He shrugged. “She was the only humorous moment in the whole mess. What are the long-term consequences if this is what you think it is, Dakota? Am I going to have a hundred people die on me?”
She rubbed both hands over her face, then dropped them back into her lap. “It depends on the dose. One wafer won’t do much more than make them horny and have zero inhibitions. You can tell the dosage by how much bloom they have on their eyes. Anyone—”
“Bloom?”
“Looks like a cataract. Did you notice anyone’s eyes afterward?”
“Groom’s stepfather got falling-down drunk. If anyone had a problem, he’d be the one.”
“Have him checked again.”
“Half of them are users of some sort of illicit drug,” Rand pointed out. “I’m leaning toward somebody doing this to blackmail half of Hollywood’s fucking elite.” The embarrassment up in that hotel suite stuck with him, profound and palpable.
“I imagine it was terrifying for everyone when they finally recovered.” Sympathy—guilt?—filled her voice. “Since the drug is lethal, you’re fortunate nobody died. There’s a dangerously fine line between pleasure and death. A microgram too much, and you’d be telling a different story this morning.”
He glanced at the clean lines of her profile as she looked at the scenery whizzing by, then turned his own attention to the road as she glanced at him. “Will they keep this quiet, or is someone going to blab to the press?”
“Frankly, it’s unlikely that everyone will keep their mouths shut. We’re talking about actors here. This isn’t like old Hollywood where scandal was kept hush-hush. These days, if Lohan gets a hangnail, it’s front-page news. It won’t remain a secret. Not for long.”
“Then we’d better work fast and get them answers. Did someone happen to check the dead man’s eyes?”
“No need. He was murdered. I don’t have the details, but it wasn’t Rapture. Let’s hope there’s something in the room for you to hold, because otherwise we’re as screwed as the groom’s stepfather, who did half the people in that room last
He twisted the wheel and floored the gas pedal, overtaking two cars in the fast lane. He zipped in front of them, waiting a few seconds until the sounds of the car horns were lost behind them. “I have no idea how you think. I’ve never had any idea how you think.”
“Clearly, I had no idea how you think either, so we’re even.”
It didn’t matter what the hell the drug was—he wanted the person or persons responsible found and brought to justice. Dakota was right about that. “Blood work’s been sent to a local lab. Let’s see which of you is right.” He ran his hand over his hair.
“They’re wrong,” Dakota told him flatly. “I told you before, Ecstasy could cause that kind of euphoria, but that spike in libido and total breakdown of inhibitions indicates DL6-94. It’s not Krokodil, which is a completely different and dangerous drug, with completely different and dangerous side effects. The end result, however, is they both guarantee death. I can’t confirm that this is Rydell’s formula, but I’m taking an educated, well-informed guess. I won’t know one hundred percent for sure until I talk to some of the victims and see the lab report. You must’ve questioned everyone affected. I’ll start with any reports you’ve compiled—”
“Everyone’s still at the hotel. Several under doctors’ care. Two people had mild heart attacks, and Dunham’s grandmother put her back out. Although,” Rand’s lips quirked, “she admitted to me that she’d never had such great sex in all her eighty-plus years, and she could now die with a smile.” He shrugged. “She was the only humorous moment in the whole mess. What are the long-term consequences if this is what you think it is, Dakota? Am I going to have a hundred people die on me?”
She rubbed both hands over her face, then dropped them back into her lap. “It depends on the dose. One wafer won’t do much more than make them horny and have zero inhibitions. You can tell the dosage by how much bloom they have on their eyes. Anyone—”
“Bloom?”
“Looks like a cataract. Did you notice anyone’s eyes afterward?”
“Groom’s stepfather got falling-down drunk. If anyone had a problem, he’d be the one.”
“Have him checked again.”
“Half of them are users of some sort of illicit drug,” Rand pointed out. “I’m leaning toward somebody doing this to blackmail half of Hollywood’s fucking elite.” The embarrassment up in that hotel suite stuck with him, profound and palpable.
“I imagine it was terrifying for everyone when they finally recovered.” Sympathy—guilt?—filled her voice. “Since the drug is lethal, you’re fortunate nobody died. There’s a dangerously fine line between pleasure and death. A microgram too much, and you’d be telling a different story this morning.”
He glanced at the clean lines of her profile as she looked at the scenery whizzing by, then turned his own attention to the road as she glanced at him. “Will they keep this quiet, or is someone going to blab to the press?”
“Frankly, it’s unlikely that everyone will keep their mouths shut. We’re talking about actors here. This isn’t like old Hollywood where scandal was kept hush-hush. These days, if Lohan gets a hangnail, it’s front-page news. It won’t remain a secret. Not for long.”
“Then we’d better work fast and get them answers. Did someone happen to check the dead man’s eyes?”
“No need. He was murdered. I don’t have the details, but it wasn’t Rapture. Let’s hope there’s something in the room for you to hold, because otherwise we’re as screwed as the groom’s stepfather, who did half the people in that room last
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