“Trevor and Ford.” Raelynn offers us a tight smile. “We only use code names in the field, darlin’. But Golf—Graham—is right. We need to get gone. Can you walk?”
“M-maybe?” She sways when she tries to stand on her own, and I slip my arm around her waist. The passageway is so narrow, we shuffle sideways all the way to the kitchen. By then, Natasha’s right eyelid is almost swollen shut.
“Fuck, baby. What did he do to you?” I cup her cheek, and she winces. Her nose could be broken. Hell, she could have a skull fracture.
“Worry about that later,” West says, jogging up to us. “We’re headed to the loading dock. Cops are five minutes out. Doc, no offense, but let Graham take Natasha. You don’t look so good.”
I don’t want to let her go. But the former SEAL is right. I’m in no condition to carry her. The nerve block wore off hours ago, and every breath sends sparks of pain wrapping around my ribs. My arm throbs, and with all the electricity my body absorbed, my heart feels like I’ve had a couple gallons of coffee. Every few minutes, my muscles spasm hard enough I worry I won’t be upright much longer.
Graham takes Natasha’s arm and drapes it over his shoulders. Raelynn sticks close to me, and we follow West at a slow, awkward run through the stacks of pallets and out the same rollup door I was dragged through an hour ago.
Fucking hell. Was it really only an hour? It felt more like days.
A black van idles next to the stairs, its side door open. The woman behind the wheel doesn’t turn around when Inara and Ripper help us inside. She’s solely focused on the parking lot and the street.
The second the door slams shut, she floors it.
“Dammit, Ella. A little warning?” West says. The man’s head slammed into the back wall, and he rubs it gingerly as he sits up.
“Um, you’d prefer we get arrested?” She points to the right, and though I can’t see shit back here, the sirens are getting louder by the second. “You’re welcome.”
I crawl to the other side of the space and ease Natasha into my arms. She buries her face in the crook of my neck. “Doc…I should have…I wanted…”
“I know, baby. But we have all the time in the world now. Rest. We’re going to be okay.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Natasha
Everything hurts.When Bastian slammed my head into that dryer, he broke my nose. I was so dizzy, I couldn’t stop him from dragging me into that maintenance tunnel. I’d lost my earbud, but I’d seen Raelynn cut Doc free. I’d heard the gunfire. I knew he’d be okay. Even if I wouldn’t.
I don’t remember what happened after that. Except Doc’s face. Something about moving to my right. About not giving up.
The tiny toothbrush blade was my last, desperate attempt to get away. And when it didn’t work—when Docshooting himdidn’t work—I almost gave in to the soul-crushing fear that I’d failed.
Blood. Pain. A van. And Doc’s arms around me.
I can’t focus. Doc holds me, rubbing my back in long, gentle strokes. I hear voices from time to time, but my thoughts are too jumbled to make sense of what anyone’s saying. Or even who’s in the van with us.
Until it stops moving. Only then do I lift my head. My vision tunnels. I’m so dizzy.
“Natasha? Baby? We need to get you upstairs.” Doc tips my chin up, and I blink hard until the world isn’t quite so fuzzy. He’s tired. We both are. But he and Graham get me to my feet. I’m moving. Not exactly walking. But upright.
“Where…are we?”
“The Five Points DuPont Circle,” West says as elevator doors close in front of us. “We’re staying here tonight. Wren and Ry are monitoring the security cameras from Seattle. We have a couple sets of connecting suites on the seventh floor. Gladys has been enjoying room service all evening. Clive—he works with Dax—has been keeping an eye on her.”
Gladys. Thank God. Tears prick at my eyes. Now that we’re not in mortal danger, will she be angry with me?
The elevator lumbers open. Ripper and West lead the way halfway down the hall where they wave their phones over adjacent doors.
Ripper’s opens first, but before he can take a step, a dark-clad blur rushes him, shoves him against the wall, and wedges a silenced pistol under his chin.
“Who the fuck are you and where the fuck is she?”
West, Inara, Raelynn, and Graham have their guns drawn before the man finishes his sentence. “Drop it,” West growls. “Or we end you.”
“Not before I endhim,” the man says. “Answer my goddamn question.”
