Page 70 of Defending Love
“All the ones in Dad’s desk. The drawer is completely empty.”
“The fuck?” Damien questioned. “Did you alert the Sumter County Sheriff?”
“Eli is working on it.”
“Hey, I should have told you that Eli was coming back. Everything since Dad’s murder has been hard to keep straight.”
“I was shocked to see him, but all is good now.”
Eli stepped through the door, his eyebrows arching in a questioning manner.
“Speak of the devil.” I spoke to Damien. “I need to go. I’m still not sure about Ayers.”
“We can talk tomorrow. It’s good you’re back. We need to be united before the meeting on Monday.”
“Bye.” I disconnected the call and met Eli’s green stare.
“Damien called again?”
“Did I say it was Damien?”
“No, but who else would you be discussing Ayers with. Plus, when I saw you, you were putting off guilty vibes.”
I stood and made my way to him, craning my neck to keep his green gaze in sight. “I’m not guilty. I called him, not the other way around. I had a question. It doesn’t concern what happened to Dad, but something we were talking about with Preston Ayers.”
“Did Damien have an answer?”
Inhaling, I shrugged. “Not completely. I realized that Preston Ayers was the dean of research when Sinclair acquired the research on Propanolol. I asked Damien if Sinclair paid Indianapolis University for the right to research Propanolol. He said the university had shut down its research. The formula was not patented. It was simply intellectual property that came with David.”
“David Carpenter who died after Sinclair received the patent.”
“Eric Olsen was the dean of research while they were studying the formula, and he was killed. According to Mom, he was shot on a park bench in broad daylight.”
“And now your father.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Five or more years later. Why now? This can’t have anything to do with Dad’s death.”
“It seems like a lot of people ended up dead who worked on Propanolol.”
“I worked with David. I’m still alive.”
Eli’s warm hands came to my waist, his long fingers splaying beneath my sweatshirt. “You’re going to stay that way.”
“Only for the next fifty or sixty years.”
His touch moved upward until his eyes opened wide. “Well, Dr. Sinclair. It seems you forgot to put on a bra when you changed your clothes.”
“I didn’t forget. They’re torture contraptions.” I ran my palm over his soft t-shirt, feeling his hard chest. “Men don’t have to wear a band around their chest with underwire pinching them all day long.”
A laugh rumbled from his chest. “If the chemistry and science thing ever gets old, you should work for a lingerie company. I’m sure that description would enhance bra sales.”
“I love chemistry and science. Solving a murder is more stressful.”
Eli leaned down, bringing his lips to mine. “You shouldn’t be trying to solve a murder. That’s my job.”
“I like your other job better.”
“Which is?” he asked.
