A Shot of Red (2 page)

“
Jòn
,” Pearl said in a small voice that was barely a whisper.

Yellow.

Mia’s heart tumbled.

“
Jòn
?” Mia waited and was rewarded by a single nod. She pointed to Pearl’s dress and gave her an expectant look.

“
Vèt
,” Pearl said.

Green.

Mia beamed. “Good job.”

The Marine cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we need to head to the orphanage.”

Mia nodded, although she wasn’t anywhere near ready to let Pearl go. “There’s one more thing we need to do.” With Pearl on her hip, she dashed over to her duffel bag, pulled out her camera, and returned to the Marine. “Could you take our picture?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took the camera from Mia, snapped several shots, and handed the camera back to her.

Mia hugged Pearl tightly. “Go with the nice man,” she said and passed her and her doll to the Marine.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She gave him a wan smile. “You guys are the heroes.”

He nodded politely and turned to go. Pearl gazed over his shoulder, just as she had done when her caregiver had walked away with her earlier. After a beat, she waved good-bye. Mia waved back just as the den mother of the team tapped her on the shoulder.

“There’s a phone call for you.” She handed Mia the team’s satellite phone. “It’s your grandmother.”

Mia’s heart jumped up into her throat. They rarely received phone calls, and then only in emergencies. She held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“It’s nice to hear your voice,” Lila Moncure said sincerely.

“Yours, too. Are you all right?” Mia couldn’t help but sound kind of frantic. Her grandmother was her rock. The thought of anything bad happening to her tipped Mia’s world off axis.

“I’m fine, sweetie.”

“Thank goodness.” Mia tried to walk off the shakes caused by her alarm. “Please tell me you’re sending more vaccine. We ran out again today. Had to turn people away. And there wasn’t enough for all the children at the orphanage.”

“That’s why I called,” her grandmother said. “I’m sorry to have to deliver the news, but there’ll be a delay getting more vaccine to your team.”

Mia’s heart sank.

“We’ve depleted the supply of vaccine you’ve been using,” her grandmother said, “and its efficacy is questionable anyway in light of the new active strain information we got from the CDC. All production was switched to the tiered vaccine with the new formulation. We’ve gotten it ready much sooner than we anticipated and, initially, we’ll be distributing it in the U.S. only.”

“Why?”

“There’ve already been fatal flu cases in several states, so the threat of outbreak here is dire. Shipments to Haiti will have to wait until we can fulfill domestic orders.”

Mia hated it when her grandmother used her CEO voice, and she hated what she was hearing. She’d known that the Haitian people weren’t getting the latest-generation vaccine, but the flu virus was fickle, the CDC wasn’t always right, and the shots might end up protecting people. The vaccine they’d been administering was certainly better than nothing, which was what the Haitians would get now.

“The good news,” her grandmother said, “is that we’re launching the new vaccine early. We need you here. I’ve arranged for you to come home tomorrow.”

Mia’s stomach clenched. “Tomorrow? I’m supposed to be here two more months.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no more vaccine for Haiti, and there won’t be for a while. Come home tomorrow. We need you here.”

…

Mia had rarely questioned her grandmother’s judgment, but given seven hours traveling from Port-au-Prince to Northern Virginia, she began to second-guess herself. She’d often become discouraged during her eight months in Haiti, wondering if she and the aid team were making a difference. Day to day, it had been difficult to see progress. But over time, she’d realized that each seemingly insignificant accomplishment had contributed to noticeable improvements in the Haitians’ health and welfare. She’d been inspired by their desire to rebuild their communities, educate their children, and help their neighbors, despite all the devastation and disease.

Mia made her way toward Immigration at Dulles airport, worrying about Pearl and the children at the orphanage. Would the rest of them get the vaccinations they needed? Mia vowed to make certain they did.

Standing in the immigration line gave her plenty of time to stress over what awaited her once she was officially back in the United States. No doubt her grandmother wanted her immersed in the drama at Moncure Therapeutics, but returning to the corporate world appealed to Mia less and less as she’d spent more time in Haiti.

She dreaded reentering the daily competition with her twin brother, Matthew, over which of them would run the company someday. Mia was preparing herself for the job, still deciding if she was suited for it, but she’d never let Matthew know she had doubts. It wouldn’t matter for a while yet, anyway. At seventy-two, their grandmother still impressed and intimidated as Moncure Therapeutics’ president and chairman of the board.

The immigration line moved steadily, Mia’s anxiety ratcheting up as she neared the front. Was she ready to face Brent and work with him again? They’d built mutual respect and friendship during their yearlong relationship. But then she’d turned him down, quickly killing the comfortable vibe they’d enjoyed in and out of the office. Things would be easier for her now if he worked in another department, but he’d taken over her role as head of public relations at Moncure Therapeutics when she’d fled to Haiti.

Fled?

Mia’s thoughts tripped on the word. She’d used a lot of euphemisms to describe her abrupt decision to go to Haiti months ago, yet she had indeed fled. Leaving had been preferable to working with Brent daily, and dealing with her overwhelming feelings for Gio.

She’d decided that the best way to move beyond her confusion and intense attraction was to go to a devastated country where there were much more important issues than her emotions, and other people to take care of and worry about. Not having constant contact with Brent and her family had been an added perk, but now she realized she’d only postponed the inevitable. Even so, she’d gotten used to life without gadgets that demanded her attention. After the peace of living without a smartphone and rarely seeing a computer, she wasn’t looking forward to being expected to answer calls and texts and e-mails, almost around the clock.

Mia handed her passport to the immigration officer, her gut telling her that she wasn’t ready to come back to the States—but her grandmother felt differently.

The officer glanced at Mia’s passport, stamped it with a
thud
, and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said halfheartedly, and walked back into the life she’d eagerly left behind.

At baggage claim, she waited by the carousel until it rumbled to life. Luggage clunked down the chute and landed with a
thunk
against the metal wall of the carousel. It made a couple of rounds before Mia’s luggage appeared. She lifted her bags from the belt, stacked her duffel on top of her suitcase, and headed toward Customs, even though she had nothing to declare. Toting her luggage behind her, she was amazed at what little she’d needed to live comfortably in Haiti. She wished she could live just as lean in the States, but figured that would be nearly impossible.

After making it through Customs, she tugged her bags through the bustling airport. A group of hired drivers stood near the exit for ground transportation, holding signs with names of people they’d come to pick up. She scanned the signs, saw her name, and glanced up to see Claude Deschamps’s familiar face. He stood taller than the other drivers, impeccably groomed in a dark suit, his silver hair meticulously cut and combed with a side part. Her grandmother had said she’d send a driver, but Mia hadn’t expected to see Claude.

Mia’s grandfather George had hired Claude years ago, soon after he founded Moncure Therapeutics. Until Grandpa George had died eleven years ago, Claude was his valet, chauffer, and business adviser, although he never accepted positions he was offered in the company. Since then, Claude had been working for Mia’s grandmother. Not only was he her driver, he was also her companion and confidant, and a de facto member of the Moncure family—most of whom suspected that a romance had developed between them, yet no one knew for sure.

Claude stepped toward Mia, his eyes twinkling. “Welcome home.”

Mia smiled, her tension easing a little. “Thanks, Claude. It’s good to see you.” She hugged him tightly, thinking he felt thinner than he had when she’d hugged him before she left. “I’m surprised you’re here. Grandmother let you out of her sight?”

He grinned, lines creasing deeply into his face. “Not for long. Her Highness is waiting in the car. She had some urgent calls to make.” He still had a trace of his French accent, which had become more and more Americanized over the years. He grasped the handle of Mia’s luggage and toted the bags, leading her from the busy terminal out into the chilly, overcast early-November afternoon.

Seeing Claude made Mia realize how much she’d missed him and her grandmother. Even so, she could’ve used more time in Haiti to slowly adjust to the idea of coming home. The quick good-byes and whirlwind trip had left her unsettled.

After a short walk to a premium parking area, Claude stopped at the rear of her grandmother’s shiny white Mercedes S600, left Mia’s bags there, and opened the back door for her. She clasped his hand tightly, then slipped into the supple leather backseat next to her grandmother, who tugged Mia into her arms and didn’t let go.

Tears came to Mia’s eyes as she clutched her grandmother and inhaled the familiar spicy scent of her signature perfume. “I missed you, Lila.”

As toddlers learning to talk, Mia and Matthew had heard everyone calling their grandmother Lila. Instead of calling her Nana or Gran, they’d called her Laa-Laa. When they became teenagers, the name evolved into Lila, and they’d affectionately called her that ever since.

Lila pulled away and held Mia at arm’s length. “I missed you, too, sweetheart. And I’m glad you’re back. Like I said yesterday, we need you here.”

Mia braced herself, knowing she was about to find out exactly what Lila meant by that. People needed her in Haiti, too—and there was Pearl. She hoped Lila would let her go back as soon as Moncure Therapeutics’ vaccine was launched, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

“You look even better than you did when I left.” Mia combed her fingers through Lila’s chin-length white hair. Lila wore it dramatically swept up in the front and away from her still-beautiful, angular face. “You’ve let your hair grow. And changed your eye makeup.” The expertly applied shadow and mascara highlighted Lila’s ice-blue eyes, mirror images of Mia’s.

“Stop fussing over me,” Lila chided, although she seemed pleased with the attention.

Claude got in the driver’s seat and quietly pulled the car into traffic.

“Are we going home now,” Mia asked, “to your place?” She’d moved out of her apartment in DC before she’d gone to Haiti, so she hoped to stay temporarily in Lila’s guesthouse.

Lila gazed at her with gentleness in her eyes. “Would you rather stay with your mother?”

Mia’s chest tightened and she shook her head. Eight months away from Senator Catherine Moncure hadn’t been nearly long enough.

After a moment, Lila glanced at her watch. “Claude, let’s swing by the house so Mia can freshen up before her appointment.”

Claude nodded.

“My appointment?” The last thing Mia wanted was an appointment with anyone.

“At the salon,” Lila said. “The press conference is during prime time tonight. You’ll want to look your best. I knew your hair would need a trim, and probably some lowlights after all that harsh Haitian sun.”

Mia remembered Pearl combing her little fingers through her hair and calling it yellow. So many things were more important to Mia than what her hair looked like. She’d worn it in a sloppy ponytail every day since she’d left for Haiti.

“My hair is fine. I promise it’ll look better after I shower.”

“No arguing,” Lila said. “Do it while you have the time. You’ll be too busy during the next month to even think about your hair.”

Mia didn’t like the sound of that. Maybe now
was
the time to talk about going back to Haiti. “I was thinking—”

“This is already programmed for you.” Lila handed her a smartphone. “You won’t have to speak at the press conference tonight, so you’ll be briefed in the morning on the PR plans for the vaccine launch, and your appearance schedule.”

Mia’s temper flared. “My appearance schedule?” She respected Lila, but she also wanted a say in the direction her life took right now.

Lila leveled her all-business gaze on Mia. “This tiered-dose flu vaccine is the most important biologic Moncure Therapeutics has ever launched. We may be preventing a pandemic. It’s imperative that our PR campaign is properly implemented, and that it effectively reaches people.”

Mia stared out the window at the passing cityscape. Lila hadn’t argued with her decision to go to Haiti, so maybe she owed her grandmother, and the company. But there was an entire department at Moncure Therapeutics that was no doubt prepared to execute the PR plan, and Mia wanted no part of it, especially since the effort would be spearheaded by Brent English. She quickly decided she wasn’t anywhere near ready to face him, much less work with him daily.