She blinked at me a few times before her arm raised, pointing over my shoulder. Twisting, I glanced back at the nightstand.
Standing, I moved over to it, pulling out the drawer.
Choked laughter sputtered from my mouth.
Passed out, lying on his back, Opie wore a small blue bandana around his neck like Bitzy. He was bare-chested, and he wore a cut-up piece of leather out of which he made chaps that, thankfully, covered his front area. Penned dog tattoos were on his arm and chest.
Snoring, he absently munched on something in his sleep, no doubt snuff.
“By their outfits, it looks like your pets have been initiated into the Hounds.” Warwick chuckled next to me, tugging on a T-shirt.
My body breathed with relief. At least they were okay. Buzzed out of their minds, but all right.
“Come on, we need to get downstairs.” Warwick went back to the dresser, tossing me one of his extra shirts, heading for the door.
Hurriedly, I got dressed, following him out.
“No more snuff, Bitz,” I ordered her as I closed the door.
Chiirrp!Fingers flew in the air.
I was pretty sure it wasn’t an “Of course! Have a nice morning” chirp, which made me smile.
There was my girl.
The bandit sat high on the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling, his skin grayish and sweaty. If it wasn’t for the fact his chest was moving up and down, I would have thought he was a corpse.
Dr. Laski stood the moment we entered. “He survived the night, which was a shock.” The doctor eyed his patient. “Tougher than he looks.” He turned back to us. “He’s lucid... though I can’t say for how long or that he will be very forthcoming. He hasn’t uttered a word to me or answered any of my questions.”
“I’ll handle it from here.” Warwick’s deep voice rumbled low. The bandit’s eyes darted from the ceiling to Warwick for a beat, his throat bobbing.
Yeah, he knew exactly who Warwick was.
“His dressings need to be changed soon.”
“Let Kitty know. She’ll get someone to do it. You need to rest.” Warwick patted the doctor’s arm.
Laski dipped his head, slipping out of the room, leaving us alone with the thief.
He didn’t look at us, but he was aware of every move we made, his muscles tightening as Warwick got closer, casually sitting on the chair like he was visiting a friend. I felt Warwick strategically let the silence fill the room, building it until it was palpable. A threat in the air. A warning his casualness was as deadly as the legend.
“Go ahead, princess. This is your thing. I’m just the sexy arm candy here.”Warwick’s shadow stood next to me, flicking his chin toward the man.
“Let’s not play games. I’m way too tired for bullshit, and I haven’thad my coffee yet.” My boots scuffed the floor, stepping forward. The man’s glance darted to me then back up, a flutter of annoyance in his eyes, as if I was nothing to waste his time on. I had little doubt all he saw was a human woman. Two things in this society people didn’t seem to put a lot of worth on. Little did he know, I was like water hemlock—I appeared fragile and beautiful but was violently lethal.
“Your friends stole something from me. Something I need back.” I folded my arms, looming over him. “Tell me where your hideout is or where to find your gang.”
No response.
“I don’t give a shit about you or the Hounds. I need my bag back. It has no value to you.”
Still nothing, not that I expected him to talk so easily.
Lurching forward with a snarl, I reached for his injury, pushing down on the bloody bandage in his stomach, digging into the bullet wound.
A guttural noise grunted from him, his jaw slamming together, his nose huffing with agony.
“Tell me!” I got right in his face.
