Seven Devils – Florence + the Machine
Westepoutofmy office, and Kit doesn’t even pause in the space reserved for my administrative assistant but walks purposefully across the wide space toward the door to the outside that is a collection of workspaces and storage racks. He shepherds me in front of him. My office is nice enough, but this is a workspace and looks like it.
If I were Bish, I might be able to think quickly enough about some of the things we have stored here and get out of this.
Kit has me in front of him, and I don’t want to be physically close.
I’m almost to the door when someone grabs me. It feels like three people instead of one. Not from behind, but from the side, coming from behind one of the work shelves, and shoving me hard onto the ground, skin scraping across concrete.
I hear a roar of indistinct shouts by Kit and others behind me, and then bodies connect with mine.
My shoulder catches on a metal worktable as I try and roll away. An intense twisting sensation happens in my shoulder, and then a flood of pain as my arm goes limp.
I shove off the floor and the metal table with my mobile arm and hand, knocking things off with a clatter as I right myself one-handed.
Caleb has Kit on the floor, stomach down, hands caught at his back.
Another guy, Patrick, Bish’s FBI friend who has been to Bear Valley a few times, hands Caleb a set of handcuffs.
“I’ll let you do the honors, Caleb,” Patrick says, and Caleb smiles, but doesn’t ease up on the knee in Kit’s back.
“Wait” Kit rasps. “Don’t touch me if you want Cas—”
“I’m right here, asshole.”
My head jerks up, and I hit the floor with the pain that little gesture sends down my body. A million hot knives hit me at once, making my vision blur and my stomach roll. I bite my tongue against the pain until I taste copper. But, more importantly, Cas comes striding through the doorway.
Intact. Safe. Fucking smiling that devil may care smile.
His eyes roam my body and the smile drops in an instant.
“You are supposed to be in Denver,” I get out, my words much too thin. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought or if it is just the adrenaline making my head swim. I still manage to get up one more, but I’m breathing hard with the effort. One side of my body is useless and if I hit the floor again, there is no guarantee on rising a third time.
Cas puts his hands out like he’s going to wrap them around me, but only lightly touches me. Like he’s afraid to.
I feel my face contort in confusion, and Cas raises a hand to my cheek.
“We need to get your shoulder checked out, Bee.” He looks over to Bish, who is also there, next to some guys I don’t know, getting Kit secured. “What happened to Baylor?”
Patrick steps forward, seeing that Caleb has Kit under control. Someone turns on the lights, and everything comes into a sharp contrast with the semi dark from before.
“We pulled him out of the way, then Kit put up a fight,” Patrick says. He’s a bigger guy, more my size. “What did you hit?”
I gesture vaguely to the table and learn only one hand really wants to do that. The flood of pain when I try anyway tells me why. My left side is deadweight, and suddenly the floor seems like it wants to rush for my face.
“Damn,” Patrick says, “sorry about that. EMS will be here in a second.”
“Perrin will be here faster,” Bish says, and sure enough, the gold curls of the man himself come bouncing through the doorway as soon as Kit is out of the building.
Something in my brain doesn’t like Perrin in the middle of this, but I can’t quite put it together.
Perrin’s eyes zero in on me before he has even cleared the doorframe.
“How did Baylor’s shoulder get dislocated?” he asks, and Patrick explains the same thing he told Cas.
“It’s going to be okay, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch when I put it back into place,” Perrin says. “EMS was pulling in when I got here.” He gestures me out the door, matching my steps as if he knows the movement is going to be difficult and painful.
Cas is as close to me as he can be and we both walk outside.
