Not anywhere near what she needed due to the utter lack of supply.
My stomach in its usual knots, I sat down at my computer and stared at the blank screen for a few long seconds before I blew out a breath.
Like I always did when I had free time during Wendy’s naps, I scoured the internet for answers.
But, like always, my answers always led me to one man.
A dead man.
I stared at that dead man’s face and glared.
How could he do what he’d done?
He’d shot the governor, for Christ’s sake. Knowing damn well what the outcome would be when he did.
Meanwhile, he’d taken away his expertise from the world. Just snuffed out his unique brain that had a knack for solving the unsolvable.
Just poof, he was gone. And no one else in the world could replace him.
And, more importantly, this man was a regular donor of his golden blood.
But, of course, he’d died.
One less person in the world with those perfect lifesaving capabilities.
Once again, I clicked on the email for his practice and sent him an email.
It was stupid, I knew.
And likely, no one would ever see it.
But that didn’t halt the anger that I felt in my veins.
I had no right to be mad at him.
But, I was.
I sent the email, then covered my face with my hands.
This was such a mess.
A huge, massive mess that I didn’t think I’d be able to fix.
I stared at the email chain that I had with this man so long that the sound of an incoming email startled me.
I stared. Then clicked on it.
The subject line said one thing—Montana.
When I opened the email, my heart tripped.
Move to Montana. I have a line on some golden blood. But under no uncertain terms can you share this information with anyone else. I mean it. You move here quietly. You don’t say a word about where you get it. And you live your life. That’s it.
My family and I moved our entire facility to Bear Pass, Montana, the very next day.
Two months later
“How long is this going to take?” Wendy groaned.
