by Chelsea Cain
She lowered her eyes to the hospital bracelet that encircled her wrist.
Trident Medical Group.
There had been no prisoner’s rights organization behind the campaign to match Mel with a donor. Even organizations like those wouldn’t touch someone like him, a dying pedophile, a child abductor, a child pornographer. Kidney donations required going through all kinds of mental and physical health hoops, but not this time. It was like they had been waiting for her call. She had been in surgery within hours. Everything paid for. Mel whisked out of prison. She knew of only person who had that kind of wealth and influence. Devlin. He’d arranged all of it. They wanted Mel alive. And now, she thought, with a sickening pang, her kidney was inside him.
“Are you okay?” James asked.
Kick sat up straight. Her incision barely bothered her at all anymore. Change your thoughts and you change your world. Devlin and Bishop were up to something, and she was going to find out what.
Kick lifted her arm and waved at the glinting chopper. “Smile and wave,” she said to James, plastering a fake smile on her face. James gave her a nervous glance, and then raised his own hand and waved it. Kick did a covert scan of the grounds. The paramedic was wandering the path to the beach. Kick didn’t know if anyone else was on the property. Not that it mattered.
She was an invited guest, and Bishop had said he’d be gone for weeks.
That gave her plenty of time to search the house.
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