A Necessary Risk

Once again, her image flashed across Zach’s mind. All buttoned up and drop-dead gorgeous.

Something stirred deep inside him, but he tamped down the sensation, shoving it far, far away.

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned his head, but he wasn’t about to let Jessica Parker do so now.

He had to focus on his brother, on clearing Jim’s name and shutting down the clinical trial. For that he needed Jessica Parker the scientist.

Zach had to ignore any unwanted thoughts about Jessica Parker the woman.

And he would.

A Necessary Risk

Kathleen Long

For Annie, the most unexpected—and wonderful—

blessing of my life. Thank you for reminding me that

dreams really do come true. I love you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After a career spent spinning words for clients ranging from corporate CEOs to talking fruits and vegetables, Kathleen now finds great joy spinning a world of fictional characters, places and plots. Having decided to pursue her writing goals when her first daughter taught her that life is short and dreams are for chasing, Kathleen is now an award-winning author of breathtaking romantic suspense for the Harlequin Intrigue line.

A RIO Award of Excellence winner and a National Readers Choice, Booksellers Best and Holt Medallion nominee, her greatest reward can be found in the letters and e-mails she receives from her readers. Nothing makes her happier than knowing one of her stories has provided a few hours of escape and enjoyment, offering a chance to forget about life for a little while.

Along with her husband, infant daughter and one very neurotic sheltie, Kathleen divides her time between suburban Philadelphia and the New Jersey seashore, where she can often be found hands on keyboard—bare toes in sand—spinning tales. After all, life doesn’t get much better than that.

Please visit her at www.kathleenlong.com or drop her a line at P.O. Box 3864, Cherry Hill, NJ 08034.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jessica Parker—She’s a lead researcher at New Horizon, a large clinical research facility. When the lifesaving drug trial under her supervision presents with dangerous side effects, will she accept the necessary risk, or will she fight to keep the drug from going on the market?

Zachary Thomas—His younger brother Jim committed suicide while a participant in the most recent Whitman Pharma drug trial. He’s vowed to do whatever it takes to expose the truth—including tapping Jessica Parker.

Scott McLaughlin—He once led the Whitman Pharma trial before abruptly leaving the company. Was he falsifying study results, or is he a whistleblower with just the information Jessica and Zach need to expose the truth?

David Hansen—He’s the holder of the magic key—the encoding information for the Whitman clinical trial. Will he help Jessica match the names of victims to participants, or will he alert the guilty parties that she needs to be silenced?

Miles Van Cleef—The head of New Horizon, he’s dedicated his life to pursuing the safe and ethical development of new pharmaceuticals. But now he’s faced with a tough choice—helping Jessica uncover the truth or doing whatever it takes to protect his company. Which will he choose?

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Jim Thomas pivoted slowly on one heel, frantically scanning the wall of his dorm room, searching for something—anything—familiar.

Framed photos assaulted his senses, distorted faces taunting, haunting. Their voices jockeyed for position inside his brain, screaming, threatening. He pressed his palms to either side of his head and squeezed.

Who were they?

Why wouldn’t they stop?

His gaze landed on a calendar and he recognized his own handwriting. His room. He must be in his dorm room. Familiar surroundings. Safe.

Maybe the voices were a dream.

A very bad dream.

Maybe he’d wake up any moment now and the voices would be gone. The pain would be gone.

For a split second, a teasing sense of calm whispered through him before the unrelenting paranoia and dread took over once more.

Jim’s chest ached and he struggled to draw in a breath, struggled to slow the racing beat of his heart. He opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t call out for help, his throat tight with fear and panic.

The pressure inside his head continued to build, becoming so intense he wished his brain would blow apart to end the agony.

Jim squeezed his hands harder against his skull and turned aimlessly. He bounced off the wall, then reached for the bed but staggered, losing his balance and slamming into the opposite wall.

He slid down the length of the cold plaster, fingers tracing the worn paint until they bumped up against the edge of the sliding glass door.

He sank to the floor momentarily but pulled himself up, using every ounce of strength in his body to will his legs to support his weight.

His heavy, bone-weary weight.

Heavy head.

Heavy heart.

Heavy life.

Jim sagged again but hooked one hand through the door handle, holding tight. The latch gave way and the door slid wide, opening to the pathetic patch of concrete the school called a private balcony.

He laughed through the pain, amazed he could remember the housing lottery, amazed how important winning this balcony had once seemed.

Now all he cared about was the pain.

The head-banging, excruciating pain that pulsated through his head. Minute after minute. Day after day.

The voices sounded again, urging him forward, promising him the pain would stop if only he listened.

He stumbled onto the balcony, welcoming the caress of the crisp autumn air against his face.

He gripped the railing and leaned over, studying the sidewalk below. The concrete drew a lazy pattern of curves through the carefully trimmed grass and the perfectly sculptured gardens. A group of students walking below laughed, no doubt consumed by the idiocy of college life.

They looked perfect. They sounded perfect.

Damned perfect.

Jim stepped up onto the bottom rail. First one foot. Then the other.

His headed pounded now as if his brain no longer fit inside his skull and pressed to break through. He looked to the sky and balanced, hoping the pain would ease. Hoping the pounding would stop.

But it never did.

The voices.

He had no choice now but to listen to the voices.

Jim stepped up onto the second rail and leaned forward, welcoming the rush of air against his face as he fell, arms spread wide.

He soared.

He flew.

He eagerly anticipated the imminent release from the pain, and as the ground rushed at him, Jim smiled.

At last.

Chapter One

Six weeks later

Nervous anticipation wound its way through Jessica Parker as she waited for Miles Van Cleef to introduce her to those gathered. She’d waited for this moment for a very long time. Years, to be precise.

Her newest promotion had been timed perfectly for today’s media showcase. New Horizon held the event twice each year to tout their latest clinical trials and keep community support strong for their work.

She’d been named lead researcher on Whitman Pharma’s testing of HC0815 two weeks earlier, and Van Cleef had asked her to handle one section of today’s presentation.

She couldn’t be more thrilled.

Or more nervous.

While she considered herself a whiz with facts and figures, people were another matter altogether. Let alone speaking in front of a crowd this large.

As Van Cleef covered the basics of New Horizon’s relationship with area pharmaceutical companies and New Jersey College, Jess scanned the crowd, taking note of the expressions of those present.

Some intent. Some quite obviously watching the clock.

When her gaze landed on one individual in particular, she found herself riveted, unable to look away. Her typically strong intuition told her instantly something was amiss.

He didn’t belong here.

His strong features showed no sign of emotion. Close-cropped dark hair neatly covered his head, and what had to be at least a three-day stubble graced the sharp line of his jaw.

While others in the room had shed their jackets due to the temperature inside the room, he wore a leather jacket yet showed no sign of perspiration.

No sign of weakness, actually.

She didn’t need her advanced science degree to know he stuck out like a sore thumb. There was no doubt in her mind he didn’t belong.

But who was he? And who was he with?

While the others present displayed an apparent interest—faked or not—in Dr. Van Cleef’s presentation, taking notes and asking questions, the man in question did neither. He stared so intently at the presentation screen it was a wonder his gaze didn’t sear a hole clean through the wall.

The appropriate media pass hung around his neck, but Jess couldn’t make out the name of the organization he represented, even though she squinted intently at the small square object.

Did he work for a competing institution? Had he gotten his hands on media credentials and crashed the showcase?

Investigational drug testing was a brutally competitive industry, and while they did their best to keep their work and specific details of their clients’ drug development a secret, a breach in security was always a threat at New Horizon.

When the man’s focus shifted unexpectedly to her, Jess looked away, her breath catching for a split second. She was being ridiculous, of course. He couldn’t possibly know she’d been studying his every move—or lack thereof. And what if he did? She had a right to stare just as much as he did.

She turned her attention back to the presentation, waiting for her cue to approach the podium, but felt the man’s eyes on her. She ignored the heat of his stare, focusing instead on the work here at New Horizon—specifically her work—and the comments she was about to make.

Taking over the Whitman Pharma testing had been a dream come true. While she’d been with New Horizon for the past two years, she’d spent the five years prior working in the New Jersey College medical research department. She’d learned firsthand just how miraculous today’s medicines could be when it came to curing illness.

Excitement skittered through her as Van Cleef’s presentation shifted to the topic of Whitman Pharma’s development of a revolutionary treatment for Hepatitis C. At long last, a cure sat on the horizon—a total and complete cure. With none of the psychological side effects of existing drug therapies.

Jess wrapped her arms around herself and smiled. Wasn’t this what every kid dreamed about? Being part of developing a lifesaving cure?

Today Hepatitis C. Perhaps tomorrow MS.

Her mind shifted quickly to her father’s struggle, but she refocused immediately, not wanting to miss her signal to begin her talk.

Van Cleef called her name and Jess stood, winding her way between the row of chairs on stage as a smattering of polite applause filled the room.

She stole one last glance at the man in the leather jacket, her thoughts on finding cures evaporating into thin air when her eyes met his, still locked on her face.

Jess’s stomach tilted inexplicably. Her warm smile slipped, yet the man’s expression changed. One corner of his stern mouth lifted into a crooked smile, crinkling the skin around his dark eyes and softening the furrow that apparently had permanent residence between his brows.

She looked away, focusing on the podium and Dr. Van Cleef. The only thing she needed to worry about now was her presentation. She stole one last glance at the man as she arranged her notes before her, adjusting the microphone. Surprise slid through her when she found him making a notation on his pad, the first she’d seen him make all morning.

Yet her surprise was quickly replaced by unease when his dark stare lifted once more to her face.

Jess knew with certainty that any notation he’d made had nothing to do with New Horizon and everything to do with Jess herself.

But why?

If he was from the competition and he’d pegged her as an easy mark, he had another thing coming.

DETECTIVE ZACH THOMAS stared at the show before him, doing his best to contain the pent-up fury seething through every inch of his tense body.

New Horizon. The latest and greatest in conducting clinical trials for area pharmaceutical companies. And the last place his brother Jim had held down a job—albeit a very part-time position.

Clinical trial participant. Healthy clinical trial participant.

Zach shook his head, mentally berating himself for what had to be the millionth time since his younger brother’s death. Why on earth had he encouraged Jim to take the job? For a bit of financial independence? For the contribution to science?

Damn.

Jim had been so excited. So thrilled to be helping test potentially lifesaving medicine and to be getting paid well for the work. He’d been alive.

So very alive.

And now he was gone.

Zach straightened in his seat, adjusting the blank tablet on his lap. All around him reporters made notations or whispered into handheld recording devices. If Zach cared about blending in, he’d do the same, but he had no desire to waste time writing down what were obviously practiced talking points.

If questioned, he’d explain he had a photographic memory. Hell, it was true, after all.

No matter what the coroner’s report had concluded, there was a link between Jim’s work for New Horizon and his death. Zach planned to do whatever it took to get to that truth.

He’d borrowed a buddy’s press credentials to gain access to the new pharmaceutical testing company’s open house, hoping to gain some insight into how the company worked, into who he might tap on the inside for information.

So far he hadn’t spotted anyone who might be a potential target. The parade of staff had comprised hardened individuals. No one bearing the expression years of police work had taught Zach to zero in on. The open, curious, caring face.

Jim had been gone and buried for six weeks now. Six.

The kid hadn’t lived to see his twenty-first birthday, yet here the New Horizon people sat bragging about their efforts to make the development and release of new drugs safe for the public at large.

Safe, his ass.

His younger brother had taken a header off the balcony after a supposed bout with depression and psychosis. The coroner had refused to call the death anything but suicide, but Zach knew better.

Jim hadn’t been depressed or confused a day in his life, no matter what sort of statements his college buddies had given the officers on the case.

When Zach had pressed the investigating officers for their case notes, they’d told him to take care of himself, to leave the investigation to them.

When he’d tried to swipe those same notes from the files, the department had told him to take a hike.

After all, Zach wasn’t stupid. He’d been around long enough to know how the game was played. Push hard enough, and sooner or later Internal Affairs would push back—straight to the department shrink and then straight to a paid leave.

Zach wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but he also wasn’t about to apologize for manipulating the system to his advantage—all the way to a three-month sabbatical.

More than enough time to investigate Jim’s death and expose New Horizon.

The white-haired gentleman in a badly fitting suit—Van Cleef—continued to drone on, using a laser pointer to highlight features on a graph.

Zach sat back against his chair, patiently waiting for the next topic on the printed agenda.

The Whitman Pharma trial.

HC0815.

The drug that had taken Jim’s life.

Zach swallowed down the ball of fury climbing up his throat and concentrated.

He studied the name listed as presenter for the HC0815 segment.

Jessica Parker.

He lifted his gaze back to the stage and scanned the faces of the scientists and number crunchers seated in the two rows of chairs.

He settled on a young blonde, her enthusiasm plastered across her face, and decided she was the best candidate to match the name.

Her sleek blond hair had been swept back off her face, no doubt into a tight bun or twist or whatever it was women called that style.

Her white lab coat was buttoned just about to her neck, exposing nothing other than a peek of flesh between the gentle curve of her chin and the collar.

Uptight, no doubt.

Yet when her eyes met his, the mix of emotions in her gaze was unmistakable.

Curiosity and a bit of nervousness.

His pulse kicked up a notch. If the woman was Jessica Parker, she’d be exactly the person he needed on the inside. She’d have the knowledge and the access to information his investigation required.

She also had the facial expression he’d been looking for. Open. Alert. Intelligent.

Her pink lips pressed into a tight line, and he immediately realized his attention had made her nervous.

Her pale blue eyes flashed back toward the podium and Dr. Van Cleef, as if she were waiting for her name to be called.

Perfect.

If she were Jessica Parker, he’d use his phony media credentials to cozy up to the woman, then drain her for every ounce of information she could provide.

Zach had been smart enough to keep a low profile after Jim’s death. If he’d gone nuts and acted the role of grief-stricken older brother, he’d no doubt have been recognized today, bogus credentials or not.

Thankfully, he’d kept his head during the weeks since Jim’s death. Hell, truth be told, there’d been a few days when he’d barely been able to lift his head from the pillow. He felt quite certain a large part of his heart and soul were permanently gone—destroyed in the seconds it took for his younger brother to plunge to his death.

The blonde stood and approached the microphone.

He smiled as he studied her, eagerly waiting to scrutinize every word she had to say.

Jessica Parker.

Zach had his mark.

Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment to make his move. When he did, he only had to remember one thing. His supposed identity.

Rick Levenson with the Times Herald.

Ms. Parker would never know what hit her.

JESS REACHED DR. VAN Cleef’s side moments after he’d made his concluding remarks and was just about to begin the tour.

“I think we might have an impostor, sir.”

Van Cleef smiled ever so slightly. “Leather jacket?”

Jess blinked yet realized she shouldn’t be surprised Van Cleef had jumped to the same conclusion.

She nodded.

“I always liked your perceptiveness, Jessica.” Van Cleef tipped his head toward the man, who appeared to be moving through the throng of reporters, headed directly toward where Jess and Van Cleef stood. “Why don’t you show our guest some individual attention? Find out just what he’s up to.”

Jess had to admit she was less than thrilled with the idea, but she’d do whatever she could to protect the integrity of New Horizon’s work.

She stole a quick glance at the approaching man, trepidation crawling across her skin.

“Will do, Dr. Van Cleef.” She pasted on a smile. “My pleasure.”

She stepped away from Van Cleef and pivoted, wanting to put herself in a position to appear casual when she approached the supposed reporter, but the man had already reached her side. She started momentarily but quickly gathered herself, smoothing down the front of her lab coat.

“Rick Levenson.” The man extended his hand and smiled, the move not quite reaching his dark eyes.

“Jessica Parker.” Jess gave his hand a quick pump then took a backward step, wanting to put a bit of breathing room between them.

“I enjoyed your presentation on HC0815.” He tipped his head toward the podium. “Fascinating possibilities.”

Pride flirted with the cautious edge she’d snapped into place. “Lifesaving possibilities.”

The man nodded. “No doubt. But at what risk?”

Jess shot him a frown. An odd question for a competitor to ask. Or was it?

“Pardon me?”

“The risk,” he repeated, his dark gaze going steely and cold. “Just how much risk is justifiable in the development and testing of such a drug?”

She stiffened defensively. “The beauty of HC0815 is that it’s virtually risk-free. The studies to date have shown none of the adverse mental reactions existing Hepatitis C drugs display.”

Levenson held up one hand as if he’d heard enough. “I heard the company line during your presentation.” He glanced toward the rest of the group, now headed toward the laboratory section of the facility, then he scanned the surrounding area. “Is there someplace a bit more private where I could ask you a few questions?”

Nervousness danced in Jess’s stomach. “I really can’t leave the group.” Not exactly true yet not exactly false. No matter—she had zero intention of putting herself into an isolated position with this man.

There was something in his expression that wasn’t quite right. Something that went far deeper than a competitor or reporter’s interest into how New Horizon was run and how HC0815 worked. For lack of a better term, she’d have to call the look in his gaze one of danger. A looming threat. It was as if he’d erected a wall of emotional control that could give way at any time.

“You can ask me any questions right here.” She straightened. “Though I was quite forthcoming in my comments.”

A muscle in his jaw pulsed.

Jess had a momentary vision of a coiled spring about to come apart.

“I’d like to hear the facts you kept out of your tidy remarks.” His dark brows lifted toward his hairline.

Did the man think her a fool? “Who do you really work for, Mr. Levenson?”

He tapped the ID badge dangling from his neck. “Times Herald.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Well, then, if you’re not out to steal company secrets, you must be looking for a sensational story where there is none.”

He pursed his lips, an expression of pure confidence painting his features. “That so?”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “HC0815 is a groundbreaking drug, and the testing here at New Horizon leaves no room for sensationalism of any kind.”

His dark eyes widened. “You sure about that?”

Jess stole a glance at the departing group, now out of earshot and very soon to be completely out of sight. Anxiousness edged through her system.

She pointed to the folder of media materials with which Levenson and every other media showcase attendee had been provided.

“Every bit of information you need is in the packet.” She turned, fully intending to walk away. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we need to rejoin the group now.”

The man was obviously out to blast New Horizon in his paper. The less one-on-one time she provided him with, the better.