met.
McDermott stopped before a closed door of heavy, carved mahogany. He knocked, and at some signal she didn’t catch, opened the door.
The man behind the desk rose and came around to greet her. He was in his early fifties with short, nutmeg brown hair silvered at the temple with a few gray strands. Standing around six feet tall, he had the trim, athletic build of a long-distance runner. His sharp, gray eyes gave nothing away as he met her gaze.
“Dr. Montague, welcome to the Surgical Strike Unit. I’m Director Ryker.” He shook her hand with pressure that was firm enough to be authoritative, but not so hard as to be aggressive or painful. “Please,” he gestured to an old-fashioned wingback chair. “Sit down.”
As she lowered herself onto the seat, he moved back around his desk. “I understand you have information on what our man Nate Ngoro has been put through.” The steel underneath his friendly tone reminded her of Rafe.
Nate. Rafe’s friend. Her memory was a bit foggy from exhaustion, but she thought the picture they’d showed her had been of a big black man. “I’m sorry, sir, but I never saw Nate at the compound. Kaufmann kept the work groups isolated, probably so we wouldn’t understand the full scope and purpose of his program. So I can’t say for certain what was done to him.”
Gabby suspected that Kaufmann’s research was far more complex than she understood. But with Laurel’s death, the notes she’d stolen from the other sectors were gone. Gabby had hoped those notes would give a fuller picture of the scope of Kaufmann’s work.
Ryker nodded slowly. “Please, give me your best overview of what we’re dealing with. We can get into specifics later. For now, I need to know which resources to assign to caring for Ngoro and the other men rescued.”
Gabby nodded and launched into an explanation of what she knew. At the end, Ryker’s expression was grim. “Since you have the best knowledge of Kaufmann’s program, I’d like to offer you a job working with our doctors on reversing the damage done to Ngoro and the other men.”
“You trust me enough to work with them?” she asked.
Ryker’s eyes bored into her. “Yes, for now. We’ll be monitoring you, of course, but you impressed Rafe with the way you cared for the men on the trip here. He’s got good instincts and he says to trust you.”
Gabby felt her cheeks heat with pleasure. Odd to think that Rafe’s opinion mattered after the way he’d terrified her back at her cabin, but the way he’d interacted with his men and his willingness to reconsider his initial judgment of her had given her a degree of respect for him.
Ryker tapped the tips of his steepled fingers against his chin. “I also want you to work with Rafe on creating a map of the interior section of the lower lab, so we can return and remove the remaining subjects.”
Gabby froze. Go back to the lab? Was he nuts?
Her face must have given away her emotion, because the corner of Ryker’s mouth twitched. “My people excel at this type of rescue operation,” he said.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to insult them. It’s just—”
“We understand the risks,” he said with surprising gentleness. “That’s why we need you to tell us every detail about the lab you remember, no matter how insignificant it seems. The more complete a picture we have of the facility, the safer our team will be.”
Gabby nodded. She didn’t want to think back on her time in the labs. But she’d do it in order to save the men left behind.
And if her heart beat faster at the thought of working with Rafe, she ignored it.
“Of course, sir. I’d be happy to help.”
T he scrabble of claws against the floor inside his cabin let Rafe know he had a visitor even before he opened the door. He barely had time to close the door and brace his back against the wall before his sister-in-law’s golden retriever leapt at his chest, aiming an exuberant doggie kiss at his
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