Prescription: Makeover by Jessica Andersen Read Free Book Online

men were connected to Kupfer, his competitors or the drug companies supplying the current DMD therapies. And, to be honest, the DMD drugs probably don’t command enough of a market share to interest The Nine.”
    “So it’s either personal for Odin or we’re missing something,” William mused. He glanced at the clock and realized he had to wrap it up. “Keep digging and e-mail me whatever you find. I have a ten-o’clock appointment.”
    “Will do. Try not to scare off the paying customers.”
    Figuring he’d let her have the last word this time, William hung up and sat for a few minutes, turning over the new information in his mind. If she was right about the DMD drugs, then what was Odin’s angle? More importantly, how could they get to the bastard if they couldn’t find a way into the lab?
    They’d already discussed and discarded the idea of warning Kupfer of the possible danger — it was just too damn risky. The man at the Coach House meeting had said Odin was going to take care of Lukas Kupfer personally before the press conference. What if “taking care of” Kupfer meant paying him off? What if the DMD researcher was already on board with The Nine?
    No, until they figured out Odin’s identity and the identities of the men he planned to recruit to rebuild his organization, they had to assume anyone they met could be a possible suspect.
    Out in the hallway, Max’s voice said, “This way, please. Can I get you a cup of coffee? Soda?” It was his week to play secretary. Until Vasek & Caine plowed out from underneath the mountain of debt they’d accumulated during start-up, there wasn’t enough money for an official receptionist. And, to be honest, there hadn’t been sufficient business to warrant one yet.
    At least not of the paying variety.
    “I’m fine, but thank you for offering,” a woman said, her voice soft and a little hesitant.
    William stood as Max appeared in the doorway. “This is Maxine Waterson,” he said, keeping his voice low, as though he were afraid of scaring off the prospective client.
    And with good reason, William thought as Max ushered her into the office, where she stood glancing from the men to the door and back.
    Her rounded shoulders were hunched inward beneath a shapeless green sweatshirt that had cats embroidered across the chest, and her sturdy looking hips and legs were encased in megamart blue jeans. She wore a shiny brown purse slung bandolier-style across her body with country-girl goes-into-the-big-city nerves and had her arms crossed protectively just below the embroidered cats. A simple gold wedding band seemed to be her only jewelry, and her long midbrown hair hung straight down like a curtain, covering her ears and shielding her face. As she peered through her too long bangs with pale, wary eyes, she looked about a half second away from bolting.
    The sight kicked William’s protective instincts into high gear. He didn’t share Max’s predilection for damsels in distress, but though he’d grown up in a rougher section of Chicago, his mother, and later his sensei, had ingrained as many manners as they could.
    William gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Please come on in and tell me how we can help you.”
    Max departed, but the woman remained hovering in the doorway until William finally sat down behind his desk, figuring his size might be making her uncomfortable.
    She edged inside the office, leaving the door open for a quick getaway, and eased into the chair, sitting at the very edge of the cushion. She leaned forward and practically whispered, “My lawyer said I should come see you. He said you could help.”
    William stifled the wince. Damn it. Peterman.
    A few months back, just before Max and Raine had crossed paths with The Nine, William had done a quickie job for Morrie R. Peterman, Esquire, a lawyer with offices down the street. More accurately, he was an ambulance chaser with offices down the street, though William hadn’t realized that