Page 42

“Sorry…I…so sleepy.”
“I know you are, baby, but you’ve got to stay awake. Can you do that?”
“I’ll…try.”
In the five minutes or so they’d been talking, her voice had gotten progressively more faint. He had to keep her awake.
“Concentrate, Jazz. Tell me what happened.”
“Okay…okay… Um… I woke up in a bedroom in Chicago. A creepy old man came in. Never told me his name.”
“Okay. Did he say what he wanted?”
“No. But he knew me…my real name.”
Then this had to be related to her life before she’d joined Option Zero. No one outside the OZ family knew their real names. They used aliases on every mission.
“Can you describe the guy? What he looked like?” When she didn’t answer, Xavier feared the worst. “Jazz!”
Still no answer. Had she lost consciousness? Was she even alive?
He checked the GPS screen. He was still eight minutes out at least. The highway was filled with midday lunch traffic, and while his bike could dodge and weave, and he could drive like a bat out of hell, that wasn’t going to get him there right this minute.
Hoping that some part of her was still aware and could hear him, Xavier did the only thing he knew to do.
“Jazz,” he whispered, “I don’t know if you can still hear me, but I need to tell you this. You’re the most important person in my life. Just…hang on, baby. Please, hang on.”
Hearing a thump-thumping roar, he looked up and spotted the OZ chopper. It would get to her faster, and he felt a swell of relief. Gideon was on the helicopter. Though they all had some emergency medical training, Gideon was their go-to guy for anything more complicated. He would get to Jazz first and be able to help her.
As he watched the chopper fly over him and continue toward their destination, he prayed with all the hope and passion in his heart that they would get there in time.
The minute Xavier skidded into the parking lot of an abandoned-looking building, any hope that Jazz would be in less serious condition than he feared disappeared the minute he saw Serena on her knees beside Jazz’s head, talking to her while Gideon was on the other side, hooking her up to an IV. It was hard to believe that the small, huddled figure lying on the ground was his partner. Blood pooled around her body, and even before he got close enough to see her face, he could tell she was hideously pale.
Jumping off his bike, he ran forward, shouting, “How is she?”
Gideon shook his head. “She’s lost a lot of blood. She was conscious when we arrived but passed out seconds later.”
“Why is she bleeding?”
“Three gunshot wounds.”
His legs no longer able to support him, he fell to his knees beside her. Some bastard had shot her three times? How the hell was she even still alive?
“Quinn?”
He turned to see Ash, who was standing close to the building where Xavier assumed Jazz had been held. The rage on his boss’s face was telling. Whatever he’d seen had infuriated him.
“Go with Gideon and Serena to the hospital,” he said. “Eve and I will finish up here and meet you there.”
Though he had a thousand questions about what Ash and Eve had seen, Xavier knew his first priority was Jazz.
“Okay,” Gideon said, “we can’t wait any longer. Xavier, you lift her. Be careful of the wounds—right hip, right thigh, and right calf. Serena, you hold on to the IV.”
His heart pounding with anguish and fury, Xavier gently lifted Jazz into his arms. He had carried her once before when she’d been injured a couple of years ago and remembered how light she’d been. That was nothing to how she felt now. Not only had the bastards shot her repeatedly, it looked like they’d starved her, too.
Serena got on the chopper first and held the IV steady while Xavier climbed into the open space and carefully placed Jazz onto a blanket someone had already laid out.
Gideon jumped into the cockpit, and they were airborne in less than a minute. As he looked down at Jazz’s pale, still face, Xavier made a silent promise that he would find who had done this to her, and he would end them.