Page 97

He didn’t. He swung it down and back at her hips and legs. Cassidy felt several sharp punches, but no cuts or stabs. She extended the thumb on her free hand and went for the face, determined to relieve him of an eyeball to get him to drop the knife.

“Cassidy, let go,” Jackson ordered. “I’ve got this.”

Her thumb had already disappeared into a slippery socket. The man howled and thrashed, but still didn’t relinquish the weapon. Not a knife, she saw, but a screwdriver, covered in blood and arcing straight at her face.

She jerked back, out of reach. The maneuver threw them both off balance. Together they flailed, bounced off the edge of a sofa, and hit the floor with a hard thump. All his weight landed on top of her.

Cassidy’s spine shoved up to meet her sternum, exploding every molecule of air out of her body.

Jackson dragged her assailant off her. The guy clutched at his bleeding left eye, a snarl distorting his unshaven face. “Bitch!”

Jackson’s fist found his jaw with a meaty smack that keeled him over and away from her.

Her chest was pancake-flat and on fire. She tried to roll over while her mouth worked like a landed fish. No air would come, not even a trickle.

“No no no no. Stay put,” Jackson said, keeping her on her back. Blood dribbled down his face. Cassidy had a good mind to add to his injuries if he didn’t let go of her.

Francesca leaned over her, wild-eyed, a sleeve torn from her blouse, hair sticking out all around her head. “Mon Dieu. Mon Dieu, non.”

“Cassidy, can you hear me?” Jackson said, still trying to hold her down. “Do you understand?”

She nodded as she batted at his hands, opened her mouth wider, and writhed her body, fighting to get air back into her lungs somehow. Her heart pounded in her head like a steel-spiked hammer.Let go of me! I can’t breathe!

“The air will come back. Just relax. Don’t move.” His gaze flickered down her body and back up. “Whatever you do, don’t move.”

42

Ça Suffit

Dominiqueknewamomentof panic when he couldn’t hear the familiar thump of Cassidy’s heart. Instead, there was a muffled chorus of voices and traffic, and the distant rumble of thunder.

Then he remembered that Cassidy’s absence was according to plan.

What was not according to plan was that when he unzipped himself from the body bag he had slipped into this morning together with his dragon swords, he was still on the bed in Isao’s private sanctuary with two other body bags tucked in beside him. No one had come during the day to collect them for the journey back to Adilla’s underground palace.

As he stood and slung the swords across his back, he reached out for Cassidy. Did she change her mind about letting Jackson and Garrett transport them all out of here? If so, she must have also left the area, perhaps even the city, because he detected no trace of her anywhere.

Another bag stirred to life, and he sensed another mind wondering the same thing.

“Something is wrong,” Dominique said. “Gather your family.”

By the time Isao was awake enough to respond silently in the affirmative, he had already rushed out of the immaculate, antique-stuffed condo and was halfway down the stairwell. Less than two minutes later, he burst out of another stairwell and found Jackson waiting for him in the empty hallway by the door to Dominique’s suite—which was barred with yellow crime scene tape. Worse, the smell of blood drenched the air.

His heart squeezed into a small, quivering ball. “Where is she?”

“Cassidy is in the hospital, but she’s expected to make a full recovery,” Jackson said quickly. A bandage marred his forehead near his hairline, and an antiseptic odor clung to his clothes as though he only just came from there. “If you can’t sense her, it’s because she’s doped up on pain meds, but she’ll be fine. Your mom is shaken up, but physically okay. She’s with Cassidy and is waiting for you.”

Dominique’s heart unclenched just a little. “What happened? Who hurt her?”

The elevator dinged down the hall and a family of tourists spilled out, complete with hyperactive preschoolers.

“Let’s take this inside,” Jackson suggested, gesturing toward his suite. Dominique followed, bristling with impatience, worry, and anger. The thoughts and memories he could make out from Jackson were disjointed and chaotic and full of screams that scraped his nerves.

Jackson closed the door behind them. “You should sit down.”

“Tell me—”

“Please. Sit.” The soft tone brought Dominique up short. Turmoil roiled in his friend’s tired eyes.