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Yes, she did have questions. They were bouncing like popcorn kernels in hot oil. She started with the most obvious. “You have labs and facilities here that can accommodate all these different studies?”

“Indeed, we do. I’ll ask Smith to give you a tour of the entire area tomorrow. I know you’ve seen our entertainment facilities, such as the swimming pool, gym, and various spa resources, but we also have five different laboratories, each outfitted with the most advanced and modern equipment in existence. Oh, and I almost forgot. Dr. Mosley, who plans to rejoin us tomorrow, is working on an artificial heart that can last up to fifty years in the recipient. I’m sure he’ll be glad to give you more details tomorrow.”

Kingsley made the statement as if Mosley would be able to even speak coherently after the trauma he’d experienced only a few days ago. Not that she should be surprised. This man had tortured her husband, almost killed him, and now acted as if there should be no animosity between them. She wasn’t dealing with a completely sane person and should have no expectations for any kind of normalcy.

Kingsley then surprised her by saying, “You’ve had a couple of difficult days, and I’m sure you must be tired. Why don’t you call it an early night? Since you’ll begin working with us tomorrow, you’ll need a good night’s sleep.”

Standing, she thanked him and swept her gaze over everyone at the table. “Good night, everyone.”

She went to the door, unsurprised to find Smith waiting for her. She wanted to ask when she would be able to move around without an escort, but she was too tired to even let that concern her. She needed some downtime as soon as possible. Smith seemed to understand that, as he made no effort to engage her in a conversation. The moment she reached her room, the door swung open, and Serena stepped inside.

“Have a good night, Serena.”

She barely heard him. Without taking her shoes off, she fell face first onto the bed and was unconscious within seconds. Half an hour later, something—a sound perhaps—jerked her awake. Sighing, she sat up. Maybe if she took a shower, she could relax enough to sleep for a few hours. She was going to have to be at the top of her game to deal with whatever Kingsley threw at her tomorrow.

She was halfway to the bathroom when her door burst open, and Kingsley stomped into the room like an enraged bull. “You bitch! You’ve betrayed me again already!”

Stunned, she readied herself for an attack. The man’s eyes were wild with fury. She had no idea what had set him off, but she needed to be prepared for what came next.

“Mr. Kingsley. Sir?” Smith stood a few feet behind Kingsley, an unusual look of worry on his young face.

“I should kill you,” Kingsley snarled.

Smith said louder and more sternly, “Colton. Stop.”

A visible shudder swept through Kingsley, and the rage receded. His eyes still gleamed with wrath, but the wildness disappeared. “Your husband is gone.”

Her heart dropped at the words, but she pulled herself together and said carefully, “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“Vanished. The hospital experienced a total blackout for approximately three minutes. During that time, their John Doe patient unplugged himself from various machines and somehow left the building under his own power. Even though he could not walk, had no phone, and should not even have been conscious.” Kingsley narrowed his eyes and glared at her. “Want to tell me how that happened?”

Hiding that her heart was soaring with gratitude and relief was difficult, but allowing Kingsley to see her joy would gain her no favors. She shook her head and simply said, “I have no idea.”

“You found a way to get word to your people.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her. “When would I have had the chance to do that? I have no way to communicate with anyone. I’m watched 24/7. I don’t know how Sean left the hospital, but I had nothing to do with it.”

She stood silently after that, waiting for him to think through her denial. With each second that passed, his ire lost steam. Finally, with confusion in his eyes, he said, “Then how did he escape?”

She knew she was treading on thin ice, but she asked anyway. “Why do you care what happened to him or where he went? Our agreement was that you would let Sean go if I agreed to work with you. Wasn’t it?”

Kingsley was good at hiding his thoughts, but she was excellent at spotting deception. The flicker in his eyes and the slight fisting of his right hand told her he had lied. She had suspected all along that he planned to have Sean killed, but she had prayed Sean would find a way to disappear first. And he had. If she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be severely punished, she’d be doing a victory dance right in front of Kingsley.

“Of course I agreed to let him go. However, I needed to ensure that you weren’t involved in his disappearance.” The plastic smile returned as if the last few moments of rage had never happened. “Have a good night, Serena. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The minute the door clicked shut, all strength went out of her body. She staggered to the bathroom, stripped as fast as she could, and stepped into the shower. Beneath the flood of hot, steamy water, she gave in to grateful tears. Somehow, someway, Sean had been able to notify OZ, and they had rescued him.

Now that she knew the love of her life was indeed safe, she could focus on her next steps. Things were in place. Once Sean recalled their conversation and the things she’d told him, he would relay that to the OZ team. They would figure out what to do.

Now all she needed to do was execute her plan here and carry out her mission.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Feeling like a manic drummer was playing the song “Wipe Out” on his entire body, Sean cracked open one eye and blearily tried to make out his surroundings. White walls, fluorescent lights, some kind of beeping sound, the scent of antiseptic and alcohol. He’d learned long ago that if you woke up in a place you didn’t recognize, you’d screwed up badly.

Lucidity came quickly and, with it, the instantaneous need to act. He shot up in bed.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll bust open your stitches.” The tall, broad-shouldered man sitting in a recliner in the corner looked half asleep and very irritated. Startling green eyes were shooting daggers at him.