He tried to drug her. Or, fuck, maybe he did.
And Yara being the intelligent, observant woman she is, figured out something was up with him. Did she know exactly what? Or was she following a hunch?
Did she know he gave her something? Or is she inside the room, incapacitated, with this piece of fucking shit about to take advantage of her…
Fumbling for my wallet, I take out the tiny set of lockpicks I never go without. Not since I joined the Shadow team two years ago, after the founder of Blade and Arrow Security, Cole Mitchell, explained how sometimes they have to work outside the law to protect the innocent.
“It’s not required to be on the team,”Cole explained when we initially spoke about me joining the new branch of Blade and Arrow.“But we’ve had times where we needed to get to someone right away and couldn’t afford to wait for the police.”
He didn’t have to convince me. I’ve seen enough in my life to know that sometimes the law isn’t enough. Sometimes we have to act on our own to keep the innocent safe and ensure justice is served.
Before I start in on the lock, I shoot off a quick group text to my team.
Need backup. North wing. Puget Sound room. I think Winthrop drugged Yara. I’m going in.
Rafe’s reply is the first to come in.
On the way.
Backup taken care of, I set to work on the lock. As I wriggle the tiny pick in the doorknob, Winthrop’s voice filters through the door again. “Don’t be scared. I’m just going to help you get more comfortable. No need to tremble like that.”
Rage erupts inside me.
Urgency forces my fingers faster. It’s hard to concentrate on the tiny clicks of the internal mechanism of the doorknob when my heart is racing from adrenaline.
I briefly consider kicking the door in, but it’s not as quick as the movies would like it to look. Solid wood doors like these won’t just pop open in one blow. It’ll take time. And it’ll give Winthrop a warning, which I don’t want him to have.
Hurry,the voice in my head urges.Get to her. Now.
“Oh, Yara,” Winthrop purrs from inside the room. “Why don’t you lie back. It’ll be?—”
A moment later, a loud gagging sound comes through the door, followed by a gasping wheeze.
My heart leaps into my throat.
Panic threatens to overtake reason.
I’m about to give up on the lock when it finally clicks.
“Thank fuck,” I mutter.
As I yank the door open, my breath stalls in fear of what I’ll see inside. Yara assaulted, her clothes in tatters. Yara hurt. Yara traumatized because I failed her.
What I actually see is something different.
Yara is sitting on the bed, her clothes thankfully still in place and intact. A quick scan of her body shows no sign of injury. Her gaze moves to mine, and there’s awareness there instead of the vacant stare I was anticipating.
On the floor in front of her, Winthrop is pushing himself to his feet. His face is bright red and his eyes are watering. He’s coughing and gasping as he tries to regain his breath.
“Yara,” I say roughly. “Are you okay?”
She blinks. Her forehead creases. “Ace?” It’s soft. Shaky. “I?—”
Winthrop spins to face me. His features are contorted with anger. “She attacked me!” he blurts. “The bitch fucking attacked me!”
Rage throbs hot and heavy inside me. My body vibrates with anger. In a dark, dangerous voice, I growl, “Shut. Up.”
“What?” he blusters. “She got wasted and attacked me.” Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “I’m calling security.”
