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engagement for the paper. She was also secretly hoping to worm more information from him on who had commissioned the project she was working on.
    There were several aspects of the plant extract that bothered her. For instance, the way human cells absorbed it so readily suggested it could be addictive. It also created an unnatural increase in molecular activity, which might give anyone taking it a sense of being stronger or faster than normal. She'd even discovered a by-product resulting from a reaction with some of the body's natural enzymes that was similar to dopamine. In moderation, it might leave the user with a pleasant buzz, but if taken in excess, it might result in psychotic episodes.
    To Bethany , the extract had all the earmarks of a designer drug. The question in her mind, which never would have been a question in the first place if Miles would just be honest with her, was whether this drug was really slated for medical, FDA-approved distribution as Miles led her to believe—or for illegal street distribution.
    She would not be a party to something illegal. Even if she succeeded in creating the perfect synthetic duplicate, she'd destroy it before she let it be used for illicit purposes.
    Lunch proved to be as uneventful as it was frustrating. All Miles would talk about was their upcoming wedding and how to word the announcement for the paper. Regardless of how many times she tried to steer the conversation  to work, he brought them right back again. They finally parted company with Bethany no more knowledgeable about their client than she had been before.
    Going directly to the lab, Bethany tried to push lunch from her mind and for the next two hours focused on her work. She was heavily immersed in thought when one of the techs from the second floor popped in to visit, carrying a shoebox-sized package wrapped in brown paper.
    "This is for you, Bethany. Delivery guy dropped it off downstairs and since I was coming up anyway, I said I'd bring it to you."
    "T hank s, Laura, I appreciate it." Baffled, she put down her instruments and then carefully peeled off the rubber gloves she wore. "Here, I'll take it." She waited until the young woman left and then glanced at the bodyguard. He seemed uninterested in it and Dirk's assessment of him flashed through her mind, quickly forgotten when she saw the name on the return address. It said, simply,
Adams
.
    A thrill of excitement raced through her and she took the package into her office where she would have some privacy.
    Ripping off the brown paper, she saw that it really was an old shoe box. Curious, she lifted the lid. Inside was a small hairspray-sized canister with an easy spray nozzle. She lifted it out and turned it over, but there was no writing or label on the can. Beneath it, though, she found a folded note.
    Bethany laid the canister aside and read.
    Bethany
—
This canister contains a mixture of Mace and pepper spray. Do me a favor and keep it with you at all times
—
especially at night. Dirk
.
     
    Bethany wasn't sure how she felt about Dirk's gift, but she placed the canister in her purse. It never hurt to be cautious, she thought, returning to her work.
    Several hours later, she and Mr. Yarbro left the lab. They arrived at her apartment building and though she looked for him, Bethany couldn't see Dirk anywhere. Feeling irrationally let down, she silently scoffed at herself. A man like Dirk had more important things to do than watch over her all the time.
    And yet, she couldn't dismiss the feeling that she was being watched.
    After taking the elevator to the third floor, Bethany stood patiently in the hallway while Mr. Yarbro checked out her apartment. Still thinking about Dirk, a grunt from inside drew her attention and she was instantly alert.
    "Mr. Yarbro ? Are you all right?" She imagined the big muscular man running into the small corner table or plant stand next to the window. When no quick response came, a chill ran down her spine. Digging in her