Page 30

Kat stared out the window as Leo brought the Jaguar to a halt across from the Royal London Hospital. He’d arranged for one of Brock’s men to collect it and return Jane’s scooter.

The building sprawled before them, its Georgian front flanked by newer wings.

“I’ve been here twice before for witness interviews.”

The first time had been in a Victorian ward that still smelled of antiseptic, the second in the modern trauma unit built on top of the original foundations, where glass and steel had replaced worn brick.

The building was saturated with history, and she was grateful for the neutral topic of conversation.

“Lower levels were used to store bodies before refrigeration, then converted to air-raid shelters during the war. They were sealed off in the eighties. Asbestos.” She unclipped her seatbelt.

“I didn’t believe the asbestos story then, and I believe it even less now. ”

She turned to Leo. His hands rested on the steering wheel, long fingers drumming a quiet rhythm. The late morning light caught the unshaven shadow along his jaw as his eyes tracked movement on the street.

What was this between them? Over the last few days, she’d woken in his home, worn his clothes, trusted him with her life without question.

When was the last time she’d trusted anyone without calculating the risk?

Never.

“Kat?” His voice pulled her back.

“Yes?”

“You okay?” His hand found hers across the console, thumb tracing her palm.

Heat crawled up her arm. Stupid to let such a simple gesture affect her.

If she stayed in this car another minute, she’d turn toward him. Slide her hand to the back of his neck, where his hair looked soft enough to ruin her.

“Perfect.” She opened the door.

The earlier sun kept hiding behind clouds. The rain had stopped, though the scent of it clung to everything. She breathed deeply to clear her head of Leo, and pulled her baseball hat low over her face.

His door closed. “Access points?” His voice was gruff.

“The old morgue levels. I remember a maintenance worker mentioning they connect to the Civil Defense tunnels that run under this part of the city.”

She finally looked at him. Mistake . His eyes sent a spear of heat through her.

She cleared her throat, dug her hands into her coat pockets. “Service entrances are on the north side. Probably alarmed, but I have solutions.”

Leo nodded, removing a bag from the car trunk. “We’ll need to move fast once we’re in.”

“Agreed.” She started walking toward the hospital entrance, needing the forward motion. Needing to focus on something other than this man. There were answers here, even if they weren’t the ones her heart craved.

The building’s shadow stretched across them as they walked.

Focus Kat.

She hurried across the road, angling toward the north side of the hospital.

The air smelled faintly of exhaust and over-chlorinated water.

Here, the architecture changed. Georgian charm gave way to utilitarian function.

Loading docks, ventilation grilles, bins wheeled up against blank concrete.

A metal door marked Authorized Personnel Only sat half in shadow.

A rusty padlock hung from the door’s crossbar like a tired bouncer.

Leo gave it a rattle. “That’s inviting.”

“Hang on.”

She pulled the slim leather case from her pocket.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a lock pick set?”

She crouched by the lock. “Hobby kit.”

“Where the hell did that come from?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “A woman’s allowed some secrets.”

Before she touched the lock, she scanned the doorway.

She checked the ceiling for camera mounts, motion sensors, anything out of place.

Nothing obvious. She leaned in closer, checking the padlock for tamper traps—thin wires, magnetic triggers, micro-pins.

Still nothing. Satisfied, she slid the tension wrench into the keyway and twisted gently. “Gage taught me.”

“Gage taught you?”

“Mmm.” The lock surrendered with a soft click. “Among other things.”

“Remind me never to leave valuables lying around.”

“Too late for that.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then away.

She stood, letting the shackle drop with a hollow clink. “Either I’m brilliant, or that lock’s older than color TV.”

“Brilliant and unnerving. My favorite combination.” Leo gripped the door handle. “Shall we?”

They slipped inside.

The service corridor was dim and narrow, lined with exposed pipework. The air buzzed faintly with the rumble of generators and smelled like dust and forgotten sandwiches. Their footsteps were nearly silent on the scuffed vinyl floor as they passed unmarked storage doors and discarded mop buckets.

Together, they moved fast, swallowed by the murky light. Thirty feet in, they halted.

The door ahead was shaped like wood. Paint peeled in rust-red curls. Beside it, a keypad blinked with a dull red light.

Kat gave the door a test kick. Solid steel. “Well, this is interesting.”

“That’s private-sector hardware.” Leo eyed the setup.

“Yup.” She checked around the door frame. “No NHS branding. No inspection stickers. Someone paid good money to keep this shut.”

She hovered a hand above the pad. “Could try smudge patterns. Or pry the faceplate. But it’ll leave signs.”

Leo dumped his bag on the floor and unzipped it. He removed a compact matte black case.

Kat tilted her head. “You carry a bypass kit?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Leo attached leads to the side of the keypad. “E-G99 series. Proprietary firmware, high-end, but the patch cycles to update are geriatric. Give me thirty seconds.”

The small screen flickered, data scrolling in faint green lines.

Kat crossed her arms. “So while I’m channeling my inner cat burglar out there, you’ve got a magic box that just opens doors?”

“Not magic.” Leo studied the screen, not looking up. “Just experience. I like to be prepared.”

A door slammed, distant but loud—followed by the soft beep of a keypad.

Kat froze mid-breath.

Silence.

Long enough to stretch tight across her skin.

Thirty seconds.

“Probably another access point,” Leo whispered.

“Let’s hurry before they decide to try out any other doors.”

The device let out a soft chirp.

“Got it.” He pulled the wire from the lock.

With a quiet beep, the keypad’s light changed from red to green and the lock released with a dull thunk.

Leo quickly repacked his gear, hid the bag out of sight, then pulled the door open. A breath of air slipped out—dry and antiseptic, cutting through the corridor’s musty weight.

The space beyond was dark.

He handed her a flashlight he’d retrieved from his bag of tricks, then switched on his own.

Kat flicked hers on and swept the beam into the gloom. Leo held out a hand, fingers open. She didn’t hesitate.

His warm hand clasped hers.

Together, they crossed into the dark.