“Agnes!”
Her brother Nash’s scream.
Cass saw her fly out the back of the van. The back of the moving van. The doors opened. Cass was racing after the van as fast as he could. Her brother—the guy had said his name was Ryan—had been given directions by whoever had eyes on the vehicle. Another motorcycle rider.
He and Ryan had chased after the van, and just when Cass got it in his sights…
The van’s rear doors flew open. Bear fired his gun at the rider Ryan had sent to tail the van. And then, as Cass pushed his motorcycle desperately forward and strained to see, Bear grabbed Agnes. He dangled her in front of his body. Cass could barely make out her form as he forced his bike to go faster and faster and faster and…
She jumped. Hurtled forward. Agnes seemed to grab and hold onto the open, right door for one, stark moment.
He roared her name even as someone else screamed it.
And Bear dragged her down because when she’d leapt forward, he’d lost his balance. Bear was falling, too, and Bear hauled her down with him. Bear slammed into the pavement. She crashed on top of him. They both fucking bounced, their bodies careening. The van’s tires squealed as it sped away.
Cass almost lost control of his bike as he stared at Agnes in horror. Agnes, now partially sprawled on Bear. Not moving.
Agnes…dead?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Oh, she hurt. Hurt so incredibly badly. Her left shoulder. Her left forearm. Her left knee. That whole side of her body hurt. She was also pretty sure that she—and the cushion for her that had been Bear—had bounced after hitting the pavement. Had they bounced once? Maybe twice? Agnes hadn’t even realized that a human body could bounce that way, not when it slammed into the unforgiving pavement.
“Agnes!”
There were lots of yells going on. Lots of squealing tires. She could smell burnt rubber. And she really, really hurt. But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? If she hurt, then she was alive. Also, bonus, the ringing in her ears had stopped. So that meant no busted ear drum. Maybe?
“No, dammit, Ryan!” Another shout that she clearly heard. Nash’s shout. “Don’t stop! Stay on your bike! I’ve got her!” Hands fluttered around her. “Get after that van and the driver! Now, now!”
More roaring of a motorcycle.
Her eyes cracked open. She tried to push up. Only to have immediate, excruciating pain fly through her left shoulder and down her arm. A moan slipped from her.
She stared down and saw Bear’s neck. Bear’s face. His closed eyes. Was he breathing? As she focused, she realized there was a whole lot of blood spreading beneath his head.
“I’ve got you, baby,” a familiar voice promised as strong, but gentle fingers slid over her shoulder. The same voice that had yelled for Ryan to keep going. Her other brother, Nash.
Nash was talking. So Nash was okay. That was good. She loved Nash. He was a great brother.
But his touch was hurting her. “St-stop…”
“Agnes!” A roar. And…a crash. She wanted to turn her head toward both sounds, but she was currently trying to breathe through some pain.
“Tell him I’m okay,” she whispered to Nash. Because she knew the roar belonged to Cass. She really hoped that crash hadn’t been the sound of his motorcycle hitting the pavement.
“I’m not gonna lie to your biker boyfriend,” her brother groused back at her. “You are not okay. Your shoulder is dislocated, your left arm is a bloody mess…”
Yep, she was pretty sure a hunk of skin might have been torn away. And leave it to Nash to document her injuries. The man had completed two years of med school before disappearing into the web of the CIA, but he still loved to throw out a diagnosis about everything like he’d gotten his MD?—
“And I can see the blood soaking your leg. Also, I’m about ninety percent sure that you’re on top of a dead man.”
“Gross,” she breathed. She was about ninety percent sure of the same thing.
“I need to check you for other injuries. Just hold still and stay on top of the dead man a bit longer.” His hands slid over her, particularly careful near her neck and spine.
“Agnes.” Cass dropped to his knees beside her. “Baby, you’re okay?”
“On…dead man.” That was not okay.
