Caterina wouldn’t end up dead if he could help it.
The question was, would Mick come to regret keeping her alive?
After Liliana had left to return to the hospital, Mick gave a last tug on the makeshift restraints and, with Caterina sedated, hurried from the guest room to the smallest of the bedrooms at the end of the hall. He had converted that room into an office where he kept a desk loaded with an assortment of computers he used to monitor the perimeter of this house, his office/apartment in Philadelphia, and any location he had decided to bug. On the wall opposite the desk was a large lateral file cabinet holding a varied collection of cameras and microphones he used for surveillance, and first-aid materials.
The closet beside the file cabinet had once been roomy, but now held a built-in vault that housed a cache of guns, weaponry, and ammunition. The vault could only be opened with his fingerprint and a complex security code.
Mick sat down at the desk, powered up the monitors, and checked out the feeds from the various locations. The infrared cameras detected nothing unusual around the perimeter of the house. The remote video from his office/apartment areas showed it was still in one piece, and the control panel on the security system didn’t indicate that the area had been breached. The only activity anywhere had been his entry into this safehouse hours earlier.
The last monitor was blank until, with a few quick keystrokes, Caterina’s image appeared as she lay on the bed, her arms and legs tied to the bedframe legs and the headboard. A light sheet covered her, hiding the thinness of her bruised body.
His sister had tried to keep the bruises from him, but he had seen them when Liliana had bathed Caterina, much as he had taken note of the purpling marks on his sister’s own forearms.
Definitely not bruises from gardening, contrary to her assertions.
He recognized the signs of someone being manhandled. And since as far as he knew Harrison was the only man in Lil’s life, he had to assume Harrison had been the one to hurt her.
His stomach tightened with anger at the thought of anyone harming his sister. That it was Harrison doing it only made him angrier.
He had never liked Harrison Edgar Williams. He had always found the supposedly brilliant surgeon to be rather pompous and slow-witted. No match for his smart and effervescent baby sister who deserved much better, as far as Mick was concerned.
Why would Lil put up with such treatment? he thought, gazing at Caterina. Another seemingly smart and capable woman who had been overpowered. Trapped by a system in which she had once had faith.
Did Lil feel the same way? Did she consider herself imprisoned by who she was at the hospital—a newbie resident? One who couldn’t challenge an older, better-established surgeon like Harrison?
Mick was going to find out what was happening with Lil and put an end to it, much like he intended to do with Caterina.
No, not Caterina. Shaw. He should start calling her Shaw. He needed to create distance because she was rousing emotions in him that would only complicate the assignment.
Shaw was his target. Just another job.
He couldn’t let sympathy for Shaw and admiration for the strength she had shown during her illness get in the way of the mission he had been paid to complete.
How about justice? the voice in his head challenged. Could he let justice get in the way?
He flipped away from Shaw’s image to one of the front door. All quiet and dark in the dead of early morning. Dead as he would be if he didn’t get some rest, too. He had to stay sharp for what he needed to do tomorrow.
Mick walked out of his office, past Shaw’s room, and stopped at the door to his bedroom. The large king-sized bed called to him, but he glanced back at the room holding his captive.
With a muttered curse, he tore off the black knit Henley he had been wearing, which still bore scattered traces of Shaw’s oddball blood. He whipped the two guns from the spot where he had tucked them into the gap at the small of his back and tossed them on his comforter. His jeans soon followed, but fell from the bed and landed in a heap on the floor.
In the master bath, he washed up, removing all traces of Shaw from his hands and arms, then returned to his room to slip into comfortable sweats.
He retrieved the two guns from the surface of the bed, placed them on the nightstand beside him, and lay down on the comforter.
Just a few hours’ nap before he got back to work.
Sleep eluded him, however, as images of Shaw’s and Lil’s bruises juxtaposed themselves in his brain.
Giving up hope of sleep after about an hour, he rose, slipped the two guns beneath the waistband of his sweats, dragged the comforter off his bed and stalked to Shaw’s room.
A comfortable overstuffed chair and ottoman were tucked invitingly in a far corner of the bedroom. It was his mother’s handiwork when she had helped him decorate this house, hoping that its purchase was a sign that he intended to settle down into a more sedate life. Maybe even take up his cousin Ramon’s offer of a spot on the local police force.
His mother had been sadly mistaken, Mick thought as he dropped the comforter at the door and walked to the chair and ottoman. He dragged them to the side of the bed where he could keep an eye on Shaw, as well as on the stairs and bedroom door.
Once the chair was in place, he picked up the comforter, settled himself into the welcoming cushions, and propped his feet up on the ottoman. For good measure, he removed the guns from his waistband and tucked them into the gap between the cushions and seat of the comfy chair. Within easy reach.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes to shut out the soft light cast by the table lamp beside the bed. Lil had replaced the linen ivory shade and turned it to a low setting. Listening to the measured cadence of Shaw’s breathing, Mick let it lull him into a light sleep.
He walked past the rooms the way a zookeeper might, checking his charges in the early morning hours to make sure they were properly locked away in their cells.
When he reached the last room, he paused and glared at the empty bed through the small glass panel at the door, angry with himself that he had underestimated his patient’s abilities and determination.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Pivoting on his heel, he stalked back toward the first room and peered within.
Santiago was beginning to stir. His head lolled from side to side as his lips twitched and twisted.
He hit the intercom by the patient’s door to listen, but the words, if there were any, were indistinct. The sounds were more like the warning grunts of an animal rather than those of a person. Maybe because in his current state Santiago was more feral than human.
Smiling, he thought about turning Santiago loose on Shaw. He pictured the way the fight between them would ensue, pitting one set of supernatural powers against another.
Santiago had physical strength, but unlike Shaw he was slow both physically and mentally. If it hadn’t been for the death sentences imposed by both nature and New Jersey’s legal system, he wouldn’t have urged Wells to accept the career criminal into the study. But the state had offered to release Santiago into Wardwell’s care if he participated in the experiment, and the nature of Santiago’s illness—a virulent form of diabetes that modern medicine couldn’t control—had sealed the decision.
Finding a gene therapy that would help Santiago might have resulted in a cure.
A very profitable cure for Wardwell.
Unfortunately, the gene strain implanted into Santiago had produced erratic results in controlling his insulin levels. It had, however, yielded a mechanism for burning off all the excess sugar in a way that created immense energy and inhuman strength.
Such possibilities when combined with Santiago’s criminal traits and violence…
The smile broadened on his face as he remembered how Santiago had taken care of Wells.
If necessary, he would turn Santiago loose on Shaw to end the threat.
Once that happened it would be back to business as u
sual and no one would be the wiser about what Wardwell had done.
Caterina woke with a sharp cry that brought Mick to instant alertness.
He whipped his Glock from between the cushions, trained it on the door, but soon realized that there was no one else in the room.
She’d had another nightmare filled with images of blood and death. Fear lingered in her psyche and she tossed fretfully on the bed, yanking and twisting against the restraints. Grimacing as one strong tug brought pain through her injured shoulder, giving her one more reason to wish Mick would relent and set her free.
Instead he tucked the Glock back between the cushions and slipped onto the ottoman. Leaning forward, Mick reached out as if to comfort her, but stopped halfway. Pulling his hand back, he rubbed both hands on his sweats, clearly uncertain.
His hesitation made Caterina pause in her struggles, and with that fragile calm, Mick finally placed his hand at the top of her arm and applied slight pressure.
“Don’t hurt me,” she said softly.
Mick stroked his hand across her skin tenderly. In patient tones he said, “No one is going to hurt you.”
Caterina glanced at his hand and tried to move away, but the bindings made it impossible.
“Let me go,” she urged, wanting to be free.
He kept up his slow caress, as if trying to calm her the way one might an injured stray. His cocoa brown eyes filled with a mix of emotions that perplexed her.
She hadn’t expected kindness. Couldn’t remember the last time anyone had treated her with anything other than contempt or clinical detachment.
“Where would you go?” he asked, shifting even closer to the edge of the ottoman, his presence surprisingly comforting.
“Home. I want to go home.”
Guilt flashed across his features, warning her that home wasn’t an option he was considering at the moment.
“Maybe later. When it’s safe,” he urged and shifted his hand up her arm until he was at the binding. “I don’t want you to reinjure your arm. I’m going to loosen it a little so you don’t hurt yourself.”
Caterina warily tracked the movement of Mick’s hand as he slackened the ties. Then he surprised her by tucking his hand into hers, his touch compassionate, creating a sudden and silent understanding between them that dissipated the remaining tension in her body.
She finally relaxed down onto the mattress and Mick nodded. “That’s it. Rest and get better. Maybe then you can go home, Cat.”
Home, Caterina thought, wondering at his actions. Baffled by the kindness he was exhibiting that was so at odds with what she had been experiencing lately. He hadn’t really reacted with fear at her strange blood and skin, which even had her scared.
He didn’t release her hand as she continued to stare at him. His palm was hard and calloused, but the touch was light. Soothing as he covered her one hand with both of his and once again said, “Rest. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Somehow she knew he was capable of protecting her from others. But as she met his gaze and saw the continued puzzlement there, she sensed that he wasn’t sure if he could protect her from himself.
“Will you hurt me?” she asked.
His gaze darkened and became shuttered before he pulled his hands away.
“Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
CHAPTER 9
Liliana didn’t know who to trust with the blood sample.
Certainly not her fiancé, Harrison. If he thought there was anything of value in the findings, he would be the first to broadcast them to the world in order to benefit himself. He cared nothing for family or friends, just himself, she had come to realize in the last few months when his demeanor had taken a turn for the worst.
It only reinforced her belief that she had to find a way out of their relationship. For months now she had been contemplating it, especially as Harrison’s actions in private became more and more violent.
As she entered the hospital lab after grabbing a few hours’ sleep in the doctor’s lounge, she spotted Dr. Carmen Rojas, a pathologist with whom she had become good friends. The two of them had helped each other through their boards and the mazelike routes of hospital politics.
She hoped Carmen could assist her once again.
Carmen lifted her head from the microscope where she had been examining a slide as Liliana approached. She held her arms out wide in invitation as she said, “Dr. Carrera. What brings you to my dungeon?”
Liliana smiled as she came to stand by Carmen’s lab bench, but her hand tightened on the test tube in the pocket of her white hospital jacket. She looked around the rest of the lab to make sure they were alone before she said, “If I said a science experiment, would you believe me?”
“A science experiment? As in—”
A deep furrow formed between Carmen’s manicured brows as Liliana extracted the glowing test tube from her pocket and held it up for Carmen to see. “Somehow a dollar store glow stick isn’t my idea of a neat science experiment, Liliana.”
“You’ve got to promise this stays between the two of us.”
“Seriously? You want me to keep a glow stick secret?” Carmen questioned even as she held out her hand and wiggled her fingers in a request for the tube.
“It’s human blood.”
Carmen gingerly took hold of the sample and brought it beneath a table lamp she had at her workstation. She placed the vial beneath the lamp and turned it on. In the beam from the lamp, the blood glowed more brightly than it had with the ambient light.
Carmen punched another button, switching the regular incandescent light in the lamp to blue light. Beneath the blue light, the liquid in the tube phosphoresced into a much more brilliant yellow-green.
“Cool. Is this what Harrison has been up to?”
“This has nothing to do with Harrison. In fact, I’d rather he not know about it. Or anyone else for that matter,” Liliana cautioned, needing her friend to understand the importance of secrecy with the sample.
Carmen peered at her askance before extracting a small amount of blood from the tube and placing it on a slide. As she plopped on a slip cover, Carmen said, “No need to worry, amiga. I won’t spill the beans about this to anyone.”
“Gracias, amiga.” Liliana watched for a moment, silent as Carmen shifted the slide around and fiddled with some knobs on the microscope. Within just seconds, however, her friend shook her head and shifted away from the eyepiece.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before. It may take me a day or two to investigate. Find out what could cause this.”
“I understand. Could I trouble you for a DNA analysis and full tox screen also?”
Carmen chuckled. “Not asking for too much, are you?”
Liliana jammed her hands into her pockets, slightly uncomfortable with having to ask, but her own expertise lay in bones and not blood. “If it’s too much—”
“Just kidding, Liliana. Actually, it’ll be an interesting break from the mundane day-to-day, only…”
Her friend paused, then rose from her lab stool and rested her hand on Liliana’s forearm. “If you were in trouble, you’d let me know, right?”
While Mick and his friend might be in their share of hot water, Liliana had no such fears about herself. Except maybe for her issues with Harrison. As her gaze connected with Carmen’s, she realized that was exactly to whom her friend had been referring.
“Harrison and I—”
Carmen’s hand snapped up to stop her. “If you don’t want to tell me—”
“It’s complicated,” she began. “For months now… he’s changed and not in a good way.”
“Rumor has it he laid into one of the young residents yesterday. Reduced her to tears and then physically pushed her out the door during rounds.”
Physically pushed?
At home, what she thought had been a funk had escalated into anger and violence, turning her fiancé into a man Liliana no longer knew. That his behavior was now spilling over into his profe
ssional life created even more worry within her. She just shrugged as she wrapped her mind around it, hesitant about providing more fodder for the hospital rumor mill.
“I’ve been thinking for some time now that it’s time to end our relationship,” she finally replied.
“Those of us who know you would understand,” Carmen said, but Liliana knew there would be those in the hospital who could not imagine why she would break it off with Harrison.
For now, however, she had other worries. She gestured to the tube resting on the lab bench and said, “How long do you think—”
“Couple of hours on the tox screen. DNA analysis will take a few days at least.”
“Thanks.” With a nod, Liliana turned and walked toward the door of the lab, Carmen in step beside her.
At the door Liliana paused, glancing at her friend, who said, “If you’re ever in trouble, with anything, you know I’m here for you.”
Liliana had understood that, which was maybe why she had come to Carmen to help her with the various tests. Nevertheless, it was good to hear her friend reinforce that she had made a wise decision.
“I know,” she said and hugged the other woman.
When Carmen released her, Liliana hurried up to the surgical wing. As an orthopedic surgery resident, she had to make rounds with the chief surgeon and other residents later that morning. She generally enjoyed rounds, since they provided an opportunity to become involved in a series of different cases, and she liked meeting the diverse group of patients at the hospital.
Unfortunately, the surgical wing was also within Harrison’s domain and this morning she dreaded it, last night’s fight still fresh in her brain.
The bruises glaringly evident on her body.
She reached the surgical floor and spent an hour preparing for rounds before joining the group of residents already gathering. She braced herself, wondering if any of them would ask about the incident Carmen had mentioned. Liliana walked toward them, aware of how some of their heads were bent together in discussion until they saw her and broke apart.
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