Because the bitch did this to you, that’s why.
She’d live to regret rejecting him again. After everything he’d done to prove his love to her, she still resisted coming back to him where she belonged. He had no plans of walking away from her … ever. He’d be damned if he let her move on with another man when she belonged with him.
Michael stood and flung his white coat onto the floor. It was time to pay Mena a visit. She’d promised to spend the entire weekend with him, and he was going to make sure she followed through on her word.
Grabbing his keys from the top of the desk, Michael strode toward the door and flung it open.
“Where have you been?” Dr. Tufa stalked into his office, slamming the door behind him.
“I don’t have time for this,” Michael said, reaching for the door.
Tufa gripped his forearm, yanking him back. Michael stared at the man as rage flooded his body.
“You better make time.” Tufa released his grip, then turned and sat in the chair across from Michael’s desk.
Ignoring Priscilla Dumay’s adopted brother, he opened the door, then stopped. Two enormous bodyguards blocked the opening, each revealing pistols with a silencer on the end tucked discretely beneath their sport coats.
Michael exhaled, then shut the door. He turned and walked back to his desk and sat down.
“What do you want?” Michael asked.
“You’ve been missing for the past five days while my sister is still languishing in a coma. What is going on with her treatment?” Tufa asked, rubbing his temple. His eyes were bloodshot and weary. The stubble on his face more unkempt than before.
“Priscilla is responding well to the protocol—”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means your sister will be out of the coma in the next few days,” Michael said.
Tufa raised an eyebrow. “That soon?”
“Yes.” Michael bristled at Tufa’s doubt of his assessment. He’d told Priscilla’s brother that his protocol would be even more successful on patients with no physical trauma, and he’d been right. His colleagues at the RBC had minimized the effects of the poison in Dumay’s body, which made the treatment protocol work even faster.
“And if a delay in bringing her out of the coma was needed, could you make that happen?”
“Why would you want to do that?” Michael asked.
“Just answer the question.”
“Reducing the dosage of the daily treatments would prolong the date that she emerged from the coma, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Any fatal side effects?”
Michael reflected on his protocol, which was damn near perfect. There wouldn’t be any risk to Priscilla’s life if he were to decrease the dosage, or increase for that matter, within reason. But did he want Tufa to know that? What was Tufa trying to do? “You’re a medical professional. You know that any change to an established treatment plan introduces risks to the patient. Would they be life threatening to your sister? Probably not, but I couldn’t give you a guarantee.”
“Based on her current treatment plan, do you have an exact date of when she should be out of the coma or are there other factors that come into play?”
“I’m working from an extremely small sample size, as you’re aware. But, based on the results of the last patient and Priscilla’s progress, we can estimate the time of when she will come out of the coma to a thirty-six-hour period.”
“I’m impressed, Dr. Marsh,” Tufa said, then reached into his pocket.
Michael flinched, almost expecting for Tufa’s hand to emerge holding a gun instead of the small business card. Tufa handed it to him. Michael grabbed the stiff paper and turned it over, glancing at the note scribbled on the surface. “What is this?”
“That is the exact day I want you to bring my sister out of the coma. Not a day earlier and not a day later. Understood?”
Michael thought about the goons lurking outside his office and instantly regretted the day he’d agreed to meet with Dr. Tufa. Would the ends justify the means? They would, especially when Priscilla woke up and told the cops that Julian Montgomery had attacked her. Mena’s new boyfriend would spend years in prison, and she’d be his again. The embryonic stem cells Tufa provided for the protocol had given Michael professional security beyond his wildest dreams. But more than that, Michael wanted Tufa and his diabolical sister, Priscilla Dumay, to help him get his wife back.
Michael opened the desk drawer and slipped the card inside. “Consider it done.”
