Smart woman. It was one of the reasons he liked her so much. But it was hard to think, even harder to speak. Still, he forced it out because Frankie believed he could. “No drugs.”
“Detective Kennedy,” the doctor was saying. “There is no point in macho heroics. You’ve done your job—”
Had he?
“—now you need to recover.”
“Emory…Wolf?”
“Alive, thanks to you.” Simon again. “Do you remember what happened?”
Ah hell. He didn’t want to remember. In truth, he was trying hard to not remember getting gutted. Again. But he knew his duty, so he forced himself to report what he could. Scoping out the warehouse. Emory attacked. The fight. He used short sentences. Clear words. He nearly passed out before he was done, but he made it. And once he’d finished, Simon took up the tale.
“We got there at the end. Alyssa shot the ones on you.”
Alyssa could shoot the wings off a gnat. Thank God she was on their side.
“Then we carried you both here for the doc to patch you up.” His voice dropped to a deeper register. “You’d feel a lot better if you just shift.”
He knew that. He wanted that. But he couldn’t grab hold of the process. What was wrong with him?
Then there was a commotion nearby and another voice, this one deep and familiar. Hank. The quiet Zen master who could kick major ass when needed. He spoke to Simon, but everyone heard. “Raoul sent a message. Did it old school on parchment, written in blood, wrapped around a rock, and thrown at our door.”
“Charming,” the doctor drawled.
“Message says, ‘Return Emory and the traitor Francesca.’”
“Not much of a negotiator, is he?” Simon answered. Then when no one responded, he sighed. “Anything else?”
“Just a time and place for the exchange. Dawn. A park on the edge of wolf territory.”
“He’ll attack here first,” Frankie said. “Sometime tonight.”
“Isn’t he worried about the cops?” Simon asked.
She sighed. “He wants to expose shifters to the world.”
Silence. Then Simon spoke with an incredulous tone: “Just how crazy is your brother?”
Ryan felt her grip go painfully tight, but when she spoke, her voice was flat. “I don’t even recognize him anymore.”
“Hopped up on his own poison?” That was from the doctor, condemnation in every syllable.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Frankie’s voice dropped into resignation. “Probably.”
“Didn’t anyone tell him that drugs are bad?” Simon asked. It was a rhetorical question that no one bothered to answer. And then Ryan felt a grip on his shoulder. “Do whatever you need to do, Ryan.”
Thanks. Assuming he could figure out what that was.
He heard several people leave, but Frankie wasn’t one of them. He kept a grip on her hand and felt her drop her forehead to his arm.
“I should have listened to you,” she said. “I was stupid to think I could handle this on my own.”
He wanted to stroke her hair. He needed to open his eyes and look at her, but speaking with Simon had drained him. It was all he could do to just lie there and touch her. She seemed to understand. Or maybe she needed to talk to him. Either way, she stayed and started whispering to him. Simple things at first. He dozed to the sweet sound. But eventually, her words took on different meaning, and he roused to listen more clearly.
“We’re alone now. Dad’s in the next room recovering, and everyone else has gone to prepare. We’re in the upper floor of your headquarters. It’s kind of nice. Not exactly the mansion my parents have, but comfortable upstairs and useful downstairs. Who’d have guessed that bears were more practical than wolves?”
Anybody. It was well known that wolves like to put on a show. Every wolf alpha in a major city had a mansion, whereas the bears just liked a cozy, protected den.
