“Stubborn female.” With a quickness that defied description, Goth Guy reached out. He shackled her free hand, preventing her from ripping the needle out. “Relax. You need the extra hit. It’s not safe for you here, so I need to move you. The Demerol will keep you comfortable for the duration.”
Fighting his grip, she screamed again. He held firm, watching her panic with an impassive expression. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, making his face waver into a blur.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone soothing. “It’s the only way. Had you not sent that text message…” A muscle jumped along his jaw as he trailed off. A second later he sighed and shook his head. “But clever girl that you are, you found a way. Now, I have no choice. Change of plan, sunshine.”
“Let me go,” she rasped, tugging against his hold. A weak attempt, but it was the best she could manage. Goth Guy knew what he was doing. He’d played it just right, shooting her full of enough Demerol to sap her strength. Now she felt the effects, and as tense muscles relaxed, her mind derailed, plunging her into helplessness. “You bastard.”
“For sure,” he said, his voice coming through the fog. “Go with it anyway, female. Let the drug take effect. You’ll thank me later.”
Mind gone heavy, body gone light, she started to float inside her own skull. Fighting the pull, she whispered, “Who are you?”
“Azrad.”
“Weird name.”
“Not for my kind.”
The cool rush of relaxation took hold. Her eyelids dipped. Open. Closed. Up. Down. J. J. forced herself to stick with it. Concentrating hard, she forced her eyes back open. “Your kind?”
“Nothing to worry about now. You’ll learn of Dragonkind soon enough.”
Buoyant on soft clouds, J. J. clung to the sound of his voice, using it to ground her in reality. The handcuffs clicked. Steel slid from around her wrist. She blinked, seeing her hand without feeling it. Huh, that was weird. He’d opened the cuff without a key. Had simply brushed his thumb against the lock and…
She frowned at the open cuff. “How did you do that?”
“Magic,” he whispered.
And J. J. agreed, ’cause… wow. The drugs were magic, helping her float, holding her high, taking the rest of the pain away. “Oh my… this is good stuff.”
He snorted. The red spider inked on his neck winked at her. J. J. smiled back. Azrad shook his head, and with a flick, released the bed rail. Folding it down and away, he slid his arms around her and lifted, turning toward the nearby wheelchair. He put her down with care, using gentle hands to adjust her uncooperative limbs. As she settled with a sigh, he straightened one of the footrests, locked it in place, and set her injured foot in the cradle. The plaster cast bumped down. He transferred the IV bag, hanging it on a pole welded to the side of the chair.
J. J. didn’t care. She couldn’t feel a darned thing, including the tip of her nose. Everything had gone numb.
Grabbing the blanket off the foot of her bed, he knelt in front of her.
Squinting hard, she stared at his face. “Hey, Azrad?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Where we going?”
“To a party.” Finished tucking the blanket around her legs, he stood and stepped around the wheelchair. Hands gripping the handles, he pushed her toward the exit. “A mixer, of sorts.”
Oh, a party. How lovely. Wonderful. Simply terrific… J. J. frowned… Wasn’t it? She hadn’t been invited to a get-together in years. Well, unless the prison yard counted, so… yeah. A mixer sounded fun.
She tipped her head back. The back of her skull thumped against Azrad. Tongue gone numb, she tried to make it work, even though talking seemed really difficult all of a sudden. “Do I get a glasssh of wine?”
He chuckled. “No more mind-altering substances for you tonight.”
“Killjoy.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Hey, Azsh-rad?” she whispered, his name more slur than actual word.
“Yeah?”
“You’re my friend.” She blinked, the movement a slow up and down. “Right?”
He hesitated. Blue eyes roamed her face. “For the moment, sunshine.”
Good news. Although, upon reflection not very inspiring. What the heck did “for the moment” mean?
J. J. hummed. For the moment… for the moment…
The phrase circled, tapping on her frontal lobe. She shook her head. Something about that was all wrong. A bad sign or something, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what. Then again, was it really such a big deal? Did it require an all-points bulletin? J. J. frowned. She couldn’t tell. Her brain was gone, buoyant in a sea of stupidity as the drug tightened its grip, numbing her mind, taking the pain, making her decide to worry about the conundrum Azrad presented tomorrow.
With a sigh, she slumped in the wheelchair.
It felt better to float and forget… if only for a little while. To ignore the warning signs and sink beneath the wave. But as Azrad wheeled her into the corridor—past guards who didn’t react and nurses who never looked up—instinct whispered, and J. J. wondered about her for the moment friend. Maybe allowing him to steal her away wasn’t the best idea after all.
7
With a quick flip, Wick went wings vertical, slicing between two stone-clad high-rises, throwing up dust in a frostbitten swirl. Right on his tail, the other Nightfuries rattled windowpanes. Eyes on the prize, Wick rocketed past another apartment complex. Rotating up and over, green scales glinting in the gloom, Venom settled above his spine. Nothing but a brown blur, snow-white talons and scorpion-like tail at the ready, Sloan flew in below him. Settling in the flank position, Mac and Forge rolled in on his wingtips, becoming wingmen as Wick picked up the pace.
Speed supersonic. Night vision pinpoint sharp. Focus set on a single building rising from the network of city streets below. Check… check… and triple-check.
Swedish Medical. Dead ahead.
Focus absolute, Wick pulled Jamison’s prison jacket to the forefront of his mind. A quick shuffle brought her mug shot front and center. Long dark hair. Pretty oval-shaped face. Full lips on an unsmiling mouth. Arresting sky-blue eyes. He pinned each detail to his mental bulletin board. No sense fucking around. He needed to find her fast. Get in. Get her out. A quick trip home, an even speedier hand-off to her sister and…
Jackpot. One female rescued. Mission accomplished. His debt paid in full.
Flying in on a fast glide, Wick lined up his approach. Spread over one corner of the roof, a white cross sat in the center of the dark helipad. He scanned the area again. Nothing but empty space. No helicopter taking up the valuable real estate, and no humans on guard duty.
Perfect. So far, so good.
Above the LZ now, he tucked his wings. Gravity took hold, yanking him out of the sky. He thumped down dead center, hitting the white X that marked the spot. The steel support structure groaned. His claws clicked, scraping the hard surface of the LZ a second before he shifted into human form. Magic shimmered, warping the air as he conjured his clothes.
As his shitkickers settled on his feet, he went over the plan. “Forge and Mac, you’re on transpo.”
“SUV?” Blue-gray scales glinting, Mac circled overhead.
Right on his buddy’s six, Forge asked, “Or a cargo van?”
“Take your pick. Just steal something big enough to transport her comfortably.” Already moving across the helipad, Wick mind-spoke to their resident computer genius. “Sloan—”