I knew she had something in her right pocket, I’d seen her fondle it. I didn’t know what it was. Mace, maybe. A small pistol. Something I had to avoid if this was to work at all. I dared not give her the chance to use whatever weapon she possessed. A single shot of bear spray would render me helpless at her feet.
Here she comes.I pressed my body against the brick wall, a shadow among shadows. I dared not move. She had the instincts of a gazelle and would bolt at the slightest hint of danger. Spraying bear spray as she fled, and thus halting any attempt to grab her.
She strode past me, her steps slightly uneven, her head bowed.
She didn’t see me.
I struck like a silent snake, thrust the needle into her neck and pressed the plunger.
The girl half-turned toward me, her mouth opened in shock, in protest, her right hand reaching for her weapon –
Then she collapsed.
I caught her before she fell.
Cradling her in my arms, I bowed my head over her still body. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll try to make it right. I swear, I’ll try.”
Chapter Three
Jade
My head felt swollen, painful, as though it would blow its top like a volcano and spill my brains down my neck to my back. I thought I lay on my back, but I wasn’t sure. Whatever I lay on felt lumpy, hard, and I was cold. As though a window to the chilling air outside had been left open and now caressed my bare skin.
Blinking, I opened my eyes. Then instantly shut them. A bright light far above cast far too much brilliance into my pupils to not hurt like of son of a bitch. Moaning, IthinkI moaned anyway, I covered my eyes with my arm. That helped tremendously.
“You’ll be all right, Jade.”
The voice came from anywhere and everywhere. Not willing to fight the damn light, I groaned, wondering if I was going to sick up all that I’d drunk earlier while at the bar with Alix. My roiling stomach threatened to heave, but I swallowed several times and the urge passed. Slowly. But it passed.
“Where am I?” I muttered, my tongue thick.
“In a cage, unfortunately,” the voice answered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Who th’ fuck’re you?”
“Magnus. I’m the one who stabbed you with the dope. Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to do that.”
“Fucker.”
I tried to remember what happened. I remembered saying good night to Alix, hugged her, walked her to her car, watched her drive away. That much stayed clear. Things after that moment became muzzy, indistinct. I walked home, I knew I did, drunker than usual, but still sober enough to find my way home.
I’d felt something hit me in the neck, I reached for my tactical baton, turned – and stared at the handsome black-haired dude with the blue eyes. Then nothing until this moment.
“I’ll kill you,” I mumbled. “I remember you now. You messed with the wrong chica, you asshole.”
“I’m so sorry. I truly am.”
“Stick your apology up your ass.”
The nausea returned full force. I turned on the bed, the cot, the mat, whatever it was I lay on, and vomited onto a concrete floor. I knew it was concrete by the way my puke spattered on impact. Again and again I hurled, my chest aching, my stomach screaming, puking up what I’d eaten last week as well as the alcohol I’d drunk earlier that night.
If it was indeed the same night. I had no ideawhenI was much lesswhereI was.
“Gawd,” I moaned, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. “I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“I wish I could let you.”
“Fucker.”
