The car slid around the corner. The tires squealed in protest and the Mercedes fishtailed several times before Jake brought it back under control.
"They can't be heading for the airport," he commented. "It's in the opposite direction."
She fought the urge to close her eyes as Jake wove in and out of the traffic. "They wouldn't get an unconscious person past security, anyway."
Ahead, the lights changed to red. Jake pressed his foot on the accelerator rather than the brake. Nikki tensed, her knuckles white with the force of her grip on the side of the seat. Cars moved into the intersection. Jake swore and slapped his palm against the horn. Then he gunned the engine, and the big car surged forward.
She closed her eyes and prayed that someone upstairs was looking out for them.
Tires squealed. Other horns blasted. Something hit the back of the Mercedes, and they slewed sideways. Jake swore, his hands slamming against the wheel as he fought to keep the car going forward.
Then they were through the intersection and speeding up the street.
She blew out a breath, but her relief was short lived. A car flew out of a side street and arrowed towards them.
She barely had time to scream a warning before the car hit and blackness swamped her.
Nikki drifted in and out of consciousness, as if caught in a fragmented dream. Pain was a beat as steady as her heart, pounding through her veins like blood. Her throat burned, and for what seemed like ages, she couldn't swallow. Could barely even breathe.
Voices swam around her. Many voices, except for the one she really wanted to hear. Lights as bright as any sun burned into her eyes. She tried to blink, felt the touch of heat against her cheek and eyelid.
Realized someone was holding her lid open, pouring light into her eyes.
Something bit into her arm, sharp, stinging. The pain began to ease, and for a while, there was nothing but peace.
When awareness returned again, it was to darkness. She opened her eyes, staring upwards, seeing the white ceiling and wondering where the hell she was.
Then memory hit.
"Ohmigod," she said, jerking upright. "Michael!"
Hands grabbed her. She fought their grip blindly, desperate to get free, to go to him. God, he needed her. Badly.
"Nikki!" Jake's voice cut through the haze of fear. "Calm down. It'll be all right."
Her strength left in a whoosh, and she collapsed into his arms. "No," she sobbed. "It won't." He was hurt—not so much physically as spiritually, and the ache of it pounded through her veins.
Jake hugged her tight. "Seline has put everyone who's free or on leave onto finding him."
It wouldn't help. She was the only one who could find him. The only one who could rescue him.
Whether that was intuition or just plain old fear, she couldn't say.
She sniffed, then asked, "Are you all right?"
"Bruised, but fine." He kissed her forehead and pulled back. "How are you feeling?"
"A little achy." She shrugged and swiped a hand at the tears on her cheeks. "Where are we?"
"The Circle's private hospital."
"Why?"
His gaze searched hers. "You don't remember?"
She frowned. "I remember the car."
He nodded. "It sideswiped us. Turns out they were working for the men who'd kidnapped Michael.
Camille has been working on them, but she hasn't been able to get much information out of them."
Nikki frowned. "But that means they were expecting us to give chase."
He grimaced. "It appears they were expecting a whole lot of things. Lucky for us, we were in the Merc."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, if it wasn't for the front and side air bags, you might be dead."
She stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was talking about. She couldn't die. Well, technically, she could, but only through decapitation. "What do you mean?"
He reached forward and touched her neck. It was only then she became aware of the bandage.
"The impact of the accident shattered the windshield and sent glass flying everywhere. If the air bags hadn't taken the force off the one that hit you, it might have sliced clean through your neck."
A chill ran through her. What were the odds of something like that happening in an accident? What were the odds that it was no accident?
She swallowed, but it didn't seem to ease the sudden dryness in her throat. "How long have I been in the hospital?
He hesitated. "Four days."
Her eyes widened. "Four days! God—" Jake's hand clasped hers, squeezing lightly. "It's all right."
"It's not all right," she said furiously. "Anything could have happened to him! What in hell are Seline and Camille doing?"
"All they can, believe me. But there's more to this than what you think."
"Like what?"
Jake's smile was weak and did little to alleviate the tiredness from his eyes. "I think I'll leave that for Camille to explain. You feeling up to a walk?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
He grabbed the robe off the end of the bed and held it out for her. She climbed out of bed, ignoring the aches that slithered through her limbs, and slipped her arms into the robe's sleeves. As she tied it together, she walked over to the mirror and studied her reflection. There was no puffiness or bruising from the beating Lenny had given her. And though the white bandage around her neck stood out like a sore thumb, there was no pain or soreness.
She'd healed very fast—yet another indication of her lost humanity. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why was she even worrying about it? The only reason she was standing here today, on the verge of getting married to a man she loved heart and soul, was because of the fact she was no longer human. Get over it , she told herself fiercely. And go get your man back.
Jake tucked a hand under her elbow. "You ready?"
She nodded and let him lead her down the quiet halls. There didn't appear to be many people in any of the four wards they passed. Surely that was a good thing.
The double doors at the far end of the corridor swished open as they approached. Beyond was another corridor and four doors. Jake led her through the last door on the right. It was a small conference room.
Camille sat next to a phone at one end of the table, her vibrant green and orange sweater practically glowing in the surrounding whiteness.
Jake pulled out a chair for Nikki, then sat beside her. Nikki met Camille's bright gaze. "What's happened?"
"Lots of things." Camille's voice was grim. "But I'll let Seline explain."
The older woman pressed a button on the phone and Seline's harsh tones entered the room. "Nikki," she said. "Sorry I couldn't be there in person, but it's far too dangerous for me to be venturing out of cover at the moment."
"Why?"
"To explain that, I'll have to explain a little history." Seline hesitated. "I don't suppose Michael has told you about Hartwood?"
Nikki snorted softly. Michael had a habit of telling her as little as possible, though he was certainly better than he used to be. "No, he hasn't."
"I can see I'll have to have a word with him." Seline's voice was tart, and Nikki smiled. She hadn't met the old witch yet, but she liked her more and more.
"Hartwood is where he and I first met," Seline continued. "He'd spent years tracking down a man by the name of Emmett Dunleavy—" "Why?" Nikki asked. "What did Dunleavy do?"
"Apparently, he'd killed a woman Michael cared about."
Nikki raised her eyebrows. The little he'd said about his past had led her to believe he hadn't really cared about anyone in those dark years. Obviously, that wasn't quite the truth. "And he found Dunleavy in this Hartwood?"
"Yes. Dunleavy was a sorcerer and worshipper of the dark gods. I'd been trying to stop him for years."
"Can I ask why?"
Seline hesitated. "Because I'm a big believer in the fact that those of us with special gifts have a duty to protect those who don't."