the attack was random.” Though his offer was sweet.
“What if they’re wrong?” Mark put the car in park and shut off the engine.
That was a good question. She’d dreamed about the kidnapper the previous night, but in the dream, he was holding her hand and showing her wild purple flowers by an ocean. Maybe she had hit her head in the car accident. She smiled at Mark. “I’ll think about your offer. For now, thank you for the ride.” She stepped out of the vehicle and took note of the several brand-new, shiny black SUVs also parked in the private garage.
“Anytime. Good luck today.” He locked the doors and walked her way.
“You too.” It was a good thing they had applied for different grants. How awkward would it be to compete against each other? She shrugged and led the way over the new cement to the elevator, which opened instantly. Then she pushed the button for the top floor. “I’ve researched this company. They have a good reputation for supporting the sciences, but I can’t quite figure out what they manufacture.” They seemed to create products for rockets and other vehicles, but even that limited information had been difficult to ascertain.
The elevator doors closed, and it smoothly lifted. Mark straightened the beige tie that melded into his light shirt. The blue suit jacket and khaki pants made him look like the studious professor he was known to be. “So long as they give us millions, I don’t care what they do.”
Excitement flushed through her, and she calmed it. “I’m sure we’re competing with every university out there that has physics and math departments.”
“Yeah, but we’re due. And we’re the best.” He finally smiled, reminding her why she’d found him appealing in the first place. Well, besides the fact that he understood supersymmetry and could argue general relativity with the best of them.
The elevator opened, and they walked out into a bright reception area with muted tones and new furnishings. The place smelled like unwrapped furniture and new paint. Even a small hint of drywall and construction cleaner wafted around.
“Hi.” The receptionist, a twenty-something redhead with one green eye and one blue eye, smiled from behind a wide bamboo counter. Petite with pale features, she looked like a sprite in a bright green suit with topaz jewelry. “I’m Mercy O’Malley. You must be Drs. Williams and Brookes.”
An ice pick of pain slashed into Promise’s nape, and she gasped, her vision blurring from the outside in. She stopped cold and then swayed.
“Whoa.” The woman rushed around the desk and reached for her arm.
The pain increased, exploding into red bursts behind Promise’s eyes. Blackness followed the red, and she dropped to the ground, with one final thought that gravity wasn’t as weak as astrophysicists believed it to be.
Unconsciousness took all the pain away.
Chapter Five
Promise regained consciousness with a slow opening of her eyes. The pain had ebbed. She lay flat on her back on something hard, and above her, a bamboo platform holding lights hung suspended from a tall ceiling. Where in the world was she? She swallowed and partially sat up.
Oh, cripes. She sat on the middle of a smooth conference table made of what appeared to be reclaimed wood. Mark stood adjacent to the table next to another man—a colossal man with intriguing bluish green eyes. Almost a true aqua.
“Dr. Williams.” Mark reached for her hand to help her swing her legs around. “Are you all right?”
Heat burst into her face, and she straightened her skirt to keep from flashing her plain white panties at them. “I do apologize.” She pushed an escaped spiral of her dark hair away from her face. “That has never happened before.” At least the losing consciousness part hadn’t. She’d felt the pain before. Her sensible heels caught the edge of a chair, and she pressed her knees together.
“My, ah, wife will be here in a few minutes,” the other man said, no expression on his face but definite concern in his eyes. Concern and curiosity. “She’s a doctor.”
“I don’t require medical assistance.” Promise scooted off the table to stand. “But thank you, anyway.” What in the sphere of all reality had happened? Did she have a tumor or perhaps a blood clot from the accident? High blood pressure could account for such an attack as well. It was time for a physical, clearly. “I was in a car accident yesterday. Maybe I’m having a residual reaction.” She rolled her neck. No pain. Not any. “I