Hatched

Chapter Nineteen

July 1st, 2021

0030 hours

Robyn sighed heavily, the weight of the last several days like lead on her shoulders. She gazed at the ransacked remains of her office and shook her head at the papers tossed about in disarray. Quinn Jones had a propensity to tear through lives like a hurricane, as he had effectively done to hers. Years of hard work, meticulously studied research, were gone or discombobulated so badly that she doubted she could ever organize them again.

Work was the only thing that kept her going after Barry's passing. He was so supportive of her journey, so proud of each accomplishment, that she couldn't give it all up. Likewise, her father wanted more than anything to see her succeed; now, in the dull glow of the light from the streetlamps, she felt more of a failure than ever.

Robyn wanted to preserve their memories, fulfill the dreams they'd made together: not just for them, but primarily for herself, that she might begin again and move on. She needed to become what she had always planned, never forgetting them but carrying them with her, through her accomplishments. In memorium, she thought ruefully, a burning, tumultuous rage beginning to brew within her. Robyn scowled, swiping up a stack of papers angrily and slamming them on her now empty desktop.

Robyn would be damned if she let that pompous, ridiculously educated excuse of a man get the better of her. She was angry she'd been injured, and while she knew she couldn't blame him entirely, most of it was his fault. Had he not taken over her necropsy, she wouldn't even be part of the investigation. It made her angrier still that she'd felt safe in his arms after, that she'd enjoyed the feeling of his warm, masculine body embracing her.

Robyn shook the reverie from her mind, eager to bury it deep within her subconscious, where she wanted it to stay. She grinned wickedly, knowing a secret that put her ahead of him in their investigation: while she had held her end of the bargain, and begrudgingly handed over her evidence to Gordon, she had smaller portions of the samples still hidden in a secret compartment in her desk.

She knew they would turn her house inside out looking for it, and since they'd already confiscated everything of importance from her office during the necropsy, the likelihood they'd go back there was slim. Her prediction had been correct, she mused triumphantly, sliding her hand underneath the smooth, wooden surface. She fingered the latch and opened the small, hidden drawer, excitement flooding her as the compartment swung forward, the small vials glinting in the dim light. She grasped them eagerly and grabbed the handful of rough notes she'd jotted down in her haste to preserve information from the seized files.

"Should I come back later?"

She jumped, startled at the teasing tone, and spun angrily, expecting to be met with a steely glare. A dark figure loomed in the entry, concealed with shadows, arms crossed over their chest.

Instead, Robyn stared into a pair of brilliant, jovial eyes, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the figure's blond hair glinted in the moonlight.

"Zach!" Her heart was pounding erratically with adrenaline, sure that it had been Quinn who was interrupting her.

"Hey, Birdie." His warm smile flooded over her, a welcome relief from the tension the plagued her mind. "You didn't grab that drink with me."

Robyn mentally scolded herself for forgetting. Zach was a nice guy, and he didn't deserve to be blown off. That hadn't been her intention, but she could see why he would come to that conclusion.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I really wanted to but I just-" she began, but he cut her off, crossing the room in a stride and ruffling her hair playfully.

"I know. George filled me in earlier when you weren't answering your calls."