Stuart said, “Let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “Jenkins needs to be dead before the system comes back online.”
He’d said this was his plan, and it must have taken some coordination to get the cartel guy and the officer to cooperate. They must have given the officer something to cause his heart to stop—possibly as a result of an underlying condition. Maybe they’d done something to his medication.
Her mind wanted to assess all the symptoms like she was trying to diagnose a disease. But how did that help her figure out what to do? She would be left floundering with no way to protect herself. Swept along by more of that fear and the tide of their intentions.
The cartel guy opened the door and peered out, looking both ways. “I see someone. It’s that new guy.”
Stuart shook her arm. “Maybe you know him. He’s one of your people.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. “Excuse me?”
“You know, Middle Eastern or whatever.”
She hissed a breath in through her teeth.
“I’m sorry, did you find that offensive?” He laughed. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so sensitive all the time. It’s not like I meant anything by it.” He was still laughing.
Kira kept her thoughts to herself. Even asking him who had paid them to do this likely wouldn’t yield any results. They might be planning to kill her, and she wouldn’t have anyone to tell what she knew. Or she was going to be used as leverage. Traded for their freedom after talks with some kind of hostage negotiator. Either way, she didn’t figure she had much time left.
Luca was in the prison as well, back in that room with Jenkins. Would they kill him too? There were officers on staff whose job it was to respond to incidents like this. Surely they were gearing up right now, having realized what had happened—that the staff was no longer in control of this section of the facility.
Any minute now, they would rush in and take these guys down, sweeping her to safety. That, or Luca would show up and overpower them.
If no one came to rescue her, then she didn’t like her chances of survival.
It might be up to her.
Hope was a flighty thing, disappearing before she could grasp hold of it. For so long, she’d only had herself to rely on. In the end, that might have saved her life, but she had taken one as well. She hadn’t been able to do her job as a doctor the way she wanted to because she’d been working covert ops for the government. In the end, everything had melded together, and she’d realized she needed a simple life.
A job. Margins in her life for relationships and hobbies.
But she’d come here and retreated from everything except her occupation. At the hospital, she was the doctor she needed to be, but outside that, she hadn’t filled her spare time with much of anything.
She’d lived a Christian life, someone saved from her sins.
But not saved from herself.
From the guilt and shame she carried. As if she didn’t believe that God could wash all of it away. That she had to carry the burden, even after He’d taken her sin.
Around the same time she’d been offered a board position with the foundation, she had met Luca. Even if Destiny’s foundation didn’t turn out to be a total sham, Kira would still rather spend her time with Luca.
Who else in the world would understand who she was to the extent that he did?
It wasn’t even really about their shared skin color. They weren’t from the same country, but he had seen the places she’d lived. He had walked through those same situations and done it trying to help people live free and save lives.
He was even doing it here, something she was immensely proud of him for.
Kira wanted the chance to be proud of herself for facing her fear and choosing to act anyway. To live her life to the fullest. But she didn’t know how to reach out and grab it. To accept that God had washed away everything and she didn’t have to carry the past around like a burden anymore.
Did she wait for rescue, or figure out how to fight back?
“Okay, let’s go.” The cartel guy ducked out of the room.
Stuart followed him, holding tight to her arm so that she discovered a new way she could empathize with the victims of domestic violence. She’d understood the pain involved before. But now she knew exactly what it felt like.
“You’re hurting me.” She looked at him. “Just leave me back there in the infirmary and do what you need to do. I won’t say anything.”
He didn’t stop dragging her down the hall, the four of them making short work of the distance. She needed to find a way to slow them down.