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He knew better than to allow himself a smug smile, though he couldn’t prevent his chest from puffing up slightly. He had known her capture would be the accomplishment that would put him over the top.
Barely a breath later, another person said, “And yet, you released her husband—a man, by any account, that we should have killed or, at the very least, kept locked up. Why is that?”
Colton took an invisible breath to steady his nerves. He had known he’d have to answer for that. After practicing with several different explanations, he believed he’d settled on the best one to justify his decision. “My job often requires compromise and delicate negotiations. Serena agreed to work with us as long as she was assured that her husband received the medical care he required.”
“So, not only did you let him go, she found a way to contact her family so they could be protected as well. Sounds like she played you.”
That wasn’t what had happened at all, but he knew better than to argue with the council. Maintaining his composure, Colton shrugged. “We work with some of the most brilliant minds in the world. Serena Donavan happens to be one of them. Yes, she found a way to protect her husband and family, but you have seen the work she has accomplished for us. She’s completed every assignment she’s been given. Her work is exemplary.”
“How are you keeping her in line if you’ve lost all your leverage?”
“I’ve had no problems as of yet. However, she has a tender, compassionate heart. She proved that when we first captured her. I could threaten anyone—including my own staff—and she would comply to keep that person safe. I’m not worried.”
“Perhaps you should be,” another of the five responded. “Sean Donavan would have been a much more powerful tool to use than some underling of no consequence.”
He didn’t like that they were so focused on Sean. It wasn’t his fault that the assassin they’d sent to take the man out had betrayed WREN. And he had three assassins searching for him night and day now. One of them would find him soon. However, Colton no longer believed that Sean Donavan was a significant problem. The man obviously had no idea where Serena was being held. If he had, he and his OZ people would have already attempted a rescue. No way would they have left her at the compound for so long.
The one who’d complimented him on abducting Serena came to his defense. “You did figure out a way to eliminate Sean Donavan, without her knowledge.”
“Yes. I requested a kill at the hospital. That didn’t happen.”
“And that’s on us, which is being handled. Are you actively searching for Sean Donavan?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. We don’t like loose ends.”
Feeling a little more at ease, he stared at the masked person who seemed to be on his side. He thought perhaps it was Reina Solange. He knew she was a council member, and though she was wearing a black robe and mask like the others, her frame looked less broad and masculine. If she were an ally, he would make sure he befriended her once he’d accepted the promotion.
“All right, we’ve gotten that out of the way. Can we move on to the real reason we brought him here?”
This came from the other end of the table. It was the first time this person had spoken, and even with the distorted voice, Colton could tell there was fury in the question. What was going on?
“Pull up the footage,” another one said.
The screen listing his accomplishments went black. Then, oddly enough, what looked like an operating room appeared on the screen. Six people dressed in green hospital scrubs surrounded someone lying on a narrow table. Much of the face was obscured, but Colton already knew who lay on that table. Franco Bianchi was finally getting his artificial heart. Jenson Mosley would be performing the lifesaving procedure.
Puzzled, Colton watched what appeared to be a normal operation. Not that he’d ever seen a live one, but he’d watched a few hospital shows on television. This was what it looked like. So why—
A man wearing scrubs strode into the room. Colton had no problem recognizing Jenson Mosley. The doctor was just over six-six and weighed a good two hundred fifty pounds. He was usually the tallest and heaviest person in most rooms. Instead of going to his patient, he walked to the middle of the room and looked up at the camera.
A cold, ominous feeling washed over Colton.
Jenson pulled off his surgical mask and glared up at the camera. “Kingsley,” he shouted, “you son of a bitch! This is for my mother!”
He raised his hand. Something glinted.
Colton watched in horror as Jenson Mosley drew a scalpel across his own throat, slicing himself from ear to ear. Blood spewed like a geyser. Mosley dropped to the floor with a loud, resounding thud.
Colton stopped breathing. His thoughts were so chaotic he felt as though he were in another dimension. There would be no coming back from this. No recovery.
Knowing he had to say something, he asked hoarsely, “What happened to Mr. Bianchi?”
The person who’d seemed to be on his side said, “He died on the operating table. The procedure was too complex for any of the other doctors. It all rested on Dr. Mosley’s shoulders.”
“You want to explain to the council what happened, Mr. Kingsley?”
What happened? Wasn’t that obvious? Jenson Mosley had screwed him over. That was what happened.
