Page 91 of Booked for Kidnapping

“But he likes libraries.”

“According to the donations Senator Westonhaus also likes libraries, but we have all come to the general conclusion that he is a dick.”

I laughed at Bradley’s choice of words. “I prefer to think of him as an asshole.”

“That’s fair,” he replied. “He is an asshole, in my not-so-humble opinion.”

“Beyond their altruism, what’s so special about these men, Dr. Castor?”

“Their altruism is what makes them so special, although all of them have stated, to certain people in the medical industry with a known concern for the state of the system, that they might have more information on the subject available. All of them, at least according to Mrs. Hampton, have sent cards following Senator Maybelle’s death, although you had disappeared by the time they arrived. Such interesting timing.”

“Do they know you were being a naughty doctor, Dr. Castor?” I asked, raising a brow.

“I am merely stating that at some point in time, money from their bank accounts may have wandered into one of my bank accounts, and as we are not complete and total idiots, these transactions were handled at banks in Switzerland on a long weekend where I gave a speech during your recovery. Dr. Yvon handled your care then, and he kept you amused with kittens.”

Damn it, I had missed a bunch of kittens? “You’ve broken my heart now. I can deal with forgetting about the pain and the agony and the suffering, but the kittens?”

“You didn’t think your fluffy goddess would handle sharing well,” the woman replied with laughter in her voice. “You were also the one who suggested against interacting with politicians, as they were dangerous entities, but it was too important a chance to ignore.”

“I love I was being sensible, but I hate I can’t remember being sensible,” I admitted. “And you’re right. Ajani probably wouldn’t like other cats. She must be the favorite cat with her choice of human servants. Then again, I could be wrong. Apparently, Ajani loves goats. I can’t really blame her. Goats are adorable.”

“Anyway, as it stands, I will be returning to Europe within the next few days. Some of my colleagues will use my home for a while before I sell it, as I do not see myself returning due to the current political climate. During the discussion phase of the research convention, I expect it will be moved to Canada or Mexico—safer choices, all things considered.”

“Assuming we can leave the country at all by then,” Meridian muttered.

“That is a concern, yes. Should any of your number wish to escape the United States while it’s possible, I can help with the process to move into Spain. The Spanish government has already begun implementing refugee protocols for citizens of the United States, as some of the documentation has been leaked abroad.”

I frowned and narrowed my eyes.

Bradley’s mother asked, “Why hasn’t that documentation made it to the United States media?”

“I wish I had an answer to that question, but I don’t. I recommend searching the internet for more details and using the media of other countries to get some of your news moving forward. Oh, and Bradley?”

“Yes, Dr. Castor?”

“Ten thousand steps a day keeps the angry doctors at bay.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

Sometime after the cocoa, I clocked out with my cat on a couch. I had a faint recollection of Bradley luring me to a vehicle with some form of hot beverage, but everything after was a blur. I regained the semblance of general coherency back at the hotel room, and Ajani attacked my hands beneath the covers, one of her ways of informing me she needed to be fed immediately but preferably sooner.

Fortunately for me, somebody had trimmed her claws, sparing the hotel from blood on their sheets.

“Good girl,” Bradley praised, and he pet my fluffy goddess.

I growled a few curses at my fiancé for waking me. As my cat had done her job, he got up and fed her wet food, and he got five strokes before she turned back an ear and hissed a warning.

“You taught her to warn?” I blurted.

“And she gives me extra strokes now, too. It’s time to get up and have breakfast. A new toy is going to be arriving in a few minutes, and I can’t wait to hear you cry and wail over it.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“I’m going to enjoy it, but I suspect you will not.”

“Ah, so it’s a toy for you and a torture device for me. Probably in the form of portable exercise machine?” I wouldn’t enjoy the amount of walking I needed to do each day to keep my foot limber, nor would I enjoy the monthly checkups until it was certain my foot wouldn’t mystically redevelop a bone-deep infection. “I seem to have passed out at Dr. Castor’s home.”

“Yep. Dad conked out, too. I thought about conking out, but I got saddled with driving us back because you and Dad were both out for the night. I read a book for an hour afterwards before joining you in the land of good sleep. Dad’s doing great. His blood pressure is stable at the low but safe end of the spectrum. Dr. Castor is preparing to return to Europe, but I’ve been texting with her. After you crashed out on her couch, she told us more of the story—and how she’d convinced you to go along with the kidnapping and treatments. She said you were fully aware you’d be having your memory wiped and why.”