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(page 8, continued)

“Once before,” Josten said. “A three-minute test earlier this week. We were prepared for ten today—before you interrupted.”

“And you can be damn thankful I did. You could all be facing murder charges!”

Garonne snatched Ian’s hand from her, checking his pulse. “No. More ze assisted suicide. Also legal here. Regardless, he sign ze paper for liability.”

“Did he waive your medical ethics, too?”

The woman turned to her, raising a brow. Light blue eyes, golden skin. Pretty. And she held herself as if aware of it. “Under ze circumstances, eet would be unethical not to help heem. He was determined to do zis, no idea how. If he deed not find us, he would have keeled himself. And thanks to heem, we advance our technique. What we learn weel save lives.”

“Not at the expense of his,” Angela snapped. “Once he’s recovered, I’m taking him home.”

Garonne bent close to Ian’s face, drawing back his eyelids, flashing a penlight. Then with wry smile, she sniffed, “Not zis man. Not after what he claim to see . . .”


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