“I don’t think so. The person who stole the formula not only stole the formula. He betrayed the team, hurt the other players-financially and job-wise-and is doing a pretty effective job of tearing down the company. Your uncle had lofty goals. So did they. The one who ripped that open took away some serious big dreams and goals, as well.”

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he said slowly.

“Not really. I don’t know anything. It’s just…an interesting problem. If the person did this right after your uncle died, then your uncle’s death must have provided them with an opportunity. Access. But I don’t get at all why someone would have done this. I’d think your whole team would have made a lot of money if that drug came through. So there’d have been no reason to steal. And then you described this group working as a team for quite some time. Working together, hoping together. So he was willing to tear apart the team, his friends, for some reason that I sure can’t imagine. I think you’ve got a guy on your hands who’s really, really angry. Angry about something that means a lot more than money to him.”

He absorbed what she’d said. He’d had no one to share the puzzle pieces with before-except for the P.I. company he’d hired, but they didn’t know enough about science to evaluate the possibilities for the how and why of a formula theft. Harm already knew he’d likely have to figure this out himself.

Cate, though, had different perceptions than he did. And he found himself staring into those soft, liquid eyes. He was taken with her spirit, with her zest, with her fearlessness. But he was also concerned about letting her any closer-to him, to his men, to his problems. He didn’t want her exposed to danger.

He wasn’t positive she’d recognize danger if it bit her on the tush, which was possibly what prompted his change of subject. “Ivan give you any serious trouble?”

Instead of an answer, she smiled. “I’m not the kind of woman who needs protecting, Harm.”