Knowing there was nothing he could do until the storm broke, Zack looked at Emily. “How much do you know about Lockdown?” he asked.
“I’ve been with them for three years. They train their employees and corrections officers well. Their facilities are state of the art.”
“So why were you snooping around the infirmary at four o’clock in the morning?”
She looked away, then back at him. “In the last six months, two inmates on my watch disappeared without a trace.”
“Are you talking about Big Jimmie Jack and Jinx Ramirez?”
Her eyes widened and she nodded. “One day they were in their cells. The next day the cells were vacant and cleaned. I was trying to find out what happened to them.”
“Any luck?”
“All I managed to get were evasive answers.”
“Underwood?”
She nodded. “And Dr. Lionel.”
“I can fill in at least part of the mystery for you,” Zack said. “Big Jimmie Jack went into the infir mary for a sinus infection. Jinx Ramirez went in allegedly for some blood test. Neither man came out. I believe they were murdered.”
Emily closed her eyes briefly. “My God.”
When her gaze met his, there was a fierceness in its depths he hadn’t noticed before. She would be a strong ally—if he could gain her trust. “Anything else?” he asked.
“When I was poking around in the infirmary,” she began, “I ran across a file on Signal Research and Development. At the time I didn’t think it was significant.” Her gaze met his. “Now I’m not so sure.”
Zack made the connection immediately. Signal Research and Development was a veterinary pharmaceutical firm. Because of the facility’s proximity to the prison, he’d researched it himself, but the company appeared squeaky-clean. Or was it? Had he missed something vital?
“What was in the file?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to be there, so I was rushed. I didn’t have time to get a good look, but I think there were some invoices.”
“Invoices for what?” he asked.
Murder in the name of research.
Neither of them said the words, but Zack could tell by her expression she was thinking the same thing he was.
“You don’t think they’re somehow involved in chemical weapons research, do you?” she asked.
“I think there are too many coincidences to rule that out.” Coincidences he wished like hell he’d put together before now. “Think about it,” he said. “The setup is perfect. Signal is less than five miles from the prison facility. It was built just one year after the Bitterroot prison was built.”
“You think this…chemical-weapons-testing project was planned that long ago?”
“I think this operation is more sophisticated than anyone initially envisioned.”
And a hell of a lot more dangerous, he silently added. So how was he going to keep this woman safe when he had no way to communicate with the outside world, no transportation and no weapon?
You’re going to get her killed the same way you got Alisa killed, a cruel little voice chimed in.
The thought struck him with so much force that Zack flinched, drawing a questioning gaze from Emily. Staring into her pretty eyes, he acknowledged that he did not want the responsibility of her safety on his shoulders. He sure as hell didn’t want her blood on his hands.
One woman’s death was enough for any man to handle. Zack hadn’t handled Alisa’s murder well. In the two years since, the guilt had nearly driven him out of his mind. He’d vowed never to put himself in a situation where another person’s life—another woman’s life—was in his hands.
He shouldn’t have expected fate to cooperate.
Logic told him to hand Emily over to someone he could trust. An agent at MIDNIGHT or even the local police. But even if he got to a phone and was able to make contact with MIDNIGHT or the local sheriff’s department, who could he trust?
Not a soul, that annoying little voice reminded.
“The only thing we can do for now is try getting some rest,” he said.
“I have a hard time relaxing when I know there are people out there who want me dead,” Emily said.
“You’re safe here.” For now.
“And after the storm breaks?” she asked.
He gave her a hard look. “The moment this storm breaks, I’m going to pay a visit to Signal Research and Development and see if I can figure out what the hell is going on.”
EMILY’S MIND WAS TOO troubled to let her sleep. But, overcome with exhaustion, she dozed. And dreamed.
She was back at Bitterroot, lying on an examination table in the infirmary. At the door, Dr. Lionel and Marcus Underwood stood, each of them holding a syringe.
They were going to kill her.
She tried to move only to realize she was strapped securely to the table. She tried to scream, but the terror was like a hand clamped over her throat.
Then Zack Devlin was standing over her. He, too, was holding a syringe. But the intent in the depths of his eyes was different.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
His seductive voice glided over her skin like the warm breath of a lover. Her nipples tightened.