The Butterfly Code by Sue Wyshynski Read Free Book Online

isn’t the military. Their mission is to cure sick people. Much as I love and respect Gage like a brother, I’m not sure how he thinks the two could be connected. It sounds to me more like a general distrust of anything research related.
    "Thanks for taking me to lunch," I say.
    "Yep. Later, kiddo."

    " W e’re out of coffee . Do you mind if I borrow the Range Rover?" I ask Dad over the phone as I search the kitchen cupboards one last time.
    It’s Monday afternoon and I need a caffeine boost.
    In the background, the shop sounds busy. "Sure. You know where the keys are?"
    "Yep, I found the extra set. Thanks, Dad."
    "Drive safe."
    My manuscript lies open on the table. Blank staves stare back at me. I’m working on my new composition, but I can’t make headway. The song could be good. Possibly my best. But it won’t be anything if I don’t finish it.
    Worrying a lock of hair, I wonder if it’s time to step out of my comfort zone. Try writing in a coffee shop. Other people swear by it. I close the manuscript and stuff it into my book bag.
    After filling Sammy’s bowls, I detour to the guest bedroom and change into a white eyelet blouse, jeans, and chocolate oxfords. Then I grab the keys, climb into the Range Rover, and back out of the driveway.
    White-knuckling the steering wheel with one hand, I lurch through the gears with the other. It always takes a while to get the hang of driving again. The road twists and turns. Potholes and buckled pavement rattle the car. My feet are tense against the pedals.
    Fifteen minutes later, I reach the gas station on the outskirts of town, and then I’m cruising slowly down Main Street. My muscles relax. At this speed, driving is almost fun.
    Half a dozen people poke along the street. There’s a lone white car at the traffic light. Plenty of available parking spots on either side. This is what life should be like. Easy, unharried, uncrowded.
    I park in front of the Foggy Joe.
    The smell of fresh-brewed coffee greets me as I push inside.
    It’s empty, except for one customer. A guy with headphones hunches over his computer in such deep concentration he’s either cracking genetic code or hacking into the White House.
    At the counter, the barista rouses himself from his texting just long enough to fill my order.
    I cart the coffee and my laptop to the battered window seat.
    Sitting, I take a sip of the hottest liquid I have ever consumed. Reflexes send the scalding liquid shooting back out. As I jerk forward, I’m clutching the cup so hard the plastic lid squeezes off. Coffee splatters across the table, my bare arms, and my chest.
    I shriek.
    "You okay?" the barista calls.
    "Yep," I lie as coffee trails down my front like flaming lava.
    He comes over with a bunch of napkins.
    Hacker Guy shoots me a clinical glance. He stands, carries his cup of ice water over, sets it on my table and goes back to his work.
    I dab ice water over my scorched skin. "Thanks," I say, glancing down at the brown stain spreading across my white eyelet blouse. My bra is showing through. I look for my sweater and realize I left it in the Range Rover.
    I clamp my arms over myself.
    "Can I get you a refill?" the barista asks.
    "Uh, no. No, thanks. I’m—I’m just going to go."
    Before I can escape, the door jangles open.
    I almost die.
    Hunter, wide shoulders outlined beneath a carbon-gray T-shirt, steps inside.

Six
    I shrink back down and try to disappear against the wall.
    Hunter has to show up now? When I’m covered in coffee? For god’s sake . . . why?
    His black hair is rumpled, and a lock has fallen across his forehead. Despite his serious, weighty aura, it softens his intensity. For an instant, he looks almost approachable. Then he rakes the hair off his face, and I change my mind.
    He scans the place, as if searching for someone. His eyes settle on me—warm amber irises meeting mine. His brow flickers as if in surprise. I read something else there, too. Unease? Frustration? Annoyance?
    To my