“Do you know her?”
“No.”
“Does she know you?”
“No.”
“Did you see them inject her?”
“Yes.”
My hand curls at my side. I uncurl it slowly. No point breaking anything in here. Doc bitches about property damage like he doesn’t patch men up after worse.
Logan sees it anyway. His voice lowers. “They got the needle in before you reached her?”
“Yes.” That one word tastes like metal.
He hears the edge in it. He’d have to be dead not to. “And then?”
“I stopped them.”
“Define stopped.”
I look at him.
He exhales through his nose. “Right. Stupid fucking question.”
I glance back down at Olivia. Her breathing stays steady. Shallow, but steady. Her lashes don’t move. No sign she’s coming around yet.
“How long has she been out?” Logan asks.
“Since the street, about thirty minutes.”
“What was in the needle?”
“Don’t know. Blaze found more.”
Logan’s eyes sharpen. “Where?”
“In the van.”
“Fuck.” He scrubs a hand over his face, then turns toward the door and shouts, “Blaze!”
A second later, Blaze appears in the doorway with a plastic evidence bag in one hand, expression too light for the situation but eyes serious. “You bellowed?”
Logan points at the bag. “That it?”
“Yeah. Three capped syringes, one empty on the pavement, zip ties, burner, cash, and a little notebook that looks like it came straight out of Creepy Kidnapper Starter Kit.”
Logan takes the bag without laughing. “Any ID?”
“Fake on three. Driver didn’t have one. Hammer and Joker have them downstairs, and for the record, Joker is looking delighted in the most unsettling way possible.”
“That’s because he’s a fucking problem,” Logan mutters.
“True, but tonight he’s our problem, so silver lining.”
I look at Blaze.
