Page 17

Mae stayed behind Ezra as a bearded man with long red hair followed her, carrying Corbin’s unmoving form through the smoke-filled halls. The man had a plaid strip of cloth tied around his upper arm, and whenever he spoke she had to lean in a touch because his Scottish brogue was so thick. Leaning in didn’t actually help clear it up though. She kept looking behind her to be sure the man hadn’t decided against bringing what was obviously dead weight to him.

Ezra grabbed her hand. “Mae, move faster or I will carry you.”

“But Corbin is bleeding. A lot!”

“Striker has him and he won’t let anything happen to him. Son-of-a-bitch,” exclaimed Ezra, twisting at the last minute and shoving her against the wall, his body covering hers as he shouted for everyone to take cover. Intense heat rolled over her and Ezra’s body hardened to the point she half thought the man had shifted into cement. When she realized her fingers were brushing over hardened scales, she gasped, looking up to see his face was covered in them as well. More importantly, the flames that had licked by them hadn’t harmed him at all.

His tongue flickered out and she yelped as she realized it was now forked. He winked, and right before her eyes, the scales and the forked tongue changed back into the man who had helped her and who was still trying to help her. He grinned. “Dragon shifter.”

She gulped. She hadn’t realized those existed. There was a lot she didn’t know about and she felt as if she’d had a crash course in opening her mind over the past two weeks. It wasn’t that long ago when she’d thought she’d cling to her virginity until she met the right man.

You did meet him , she thought. Concern gripped her when she didn’t see the man called Striker anywhere. Corbin was gone too.

Another man, this one missing eyebrows, appeared, holding a large weapon. It was the kind of gun military men in the movies held. “We’re good. What was that?”

Ezra shook his head. “Malik, Felix is paranoid. He has fail-safes all over this place. The last thing he wants is his buyer’s information falling into a rival companies’ hands. My guess is, this entire place is rigged to blow.”

A man with long, ink-black hair and eyes that screamed feline came out of a recessed area of the hall. His right arm was charred slightly and he wiped the blackened area away, the skin looking unharmed. Mae couldn’t help but stare at his odd attire. He looked more like he was about to attend a Goth rave than take part in a rescue operation. His tongue darted out and over a lip ring. “I’m Boomer. Nice to meet you, miss.”

Mae held Ezra’s arms tight, still no sight of Corbin anywhere. Had he been hurt more in the blast? “Corbin and the loud guy? Striker or something?”

Boomer laughed. “Yep. That would be Striker. Hold on.”

He moved to a door near him and kicked it, knocking it open. The redhead came out, still holding Corbin like a sack of potatoes, as the man gave the Goth a hard look. “Och, you dinnae have to throw me into a closet, kitty.”

“Didn’t have to, but it was damn fun,” returned Boomer, flashing a wide smile. He pointed to Corbin, his gaze on Mae. “Still out cold, but he’s not burnt to a crisp so it’s a win.”

She glanced at the men. “You’re all very odd.”

Ezra chortled. “No. Mostly they’re just assholes, but they’re assholes who love your mate like a brother.”

She tensed at the mention of mate, before reaching a hand out in Corbin’s direction. The need to make contact with him outweighed her reservations about being called his mate. “He’s bleeding. A lot.”

Strike’s jaw set. “Aye.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Malik, the man with no eyebrows, moved closer to her. “Mae, the faster we get him to help, the greater his chances of healing this damage are. Do you understand?”

“Less talk, more walk?” she questioned.

He offered a warm smile and she realized that even without eyebrows, he was handsome. He reminded her of a warrior from a movie she’d watched about an evil mummy coming back from the dead.

She paused. “He said they gave him something that was slowing his healing.”

“Dammit. She’s right. Their newest sedative has a mix of several drugs in it. A side effect to some can be decreased healing. Others it increases the ability.” Ezra took her hand in his. “We need to move now.”

“Caesar isn’t coming, is he?” Deep down she knew something bad had happened to him. She couldn’t help but mourn him.

“No. He’s not.”

“Brad?”

Ezra pulled her along, forcing her to move. “I let him out of his cell. And I tasked him with protecting someone. I don’t know if they made it out. I can only hope they did.”

He was hiding something, she was sure of it, but Corbin needed medical attention so she didn’t push. Within minutes they were free from the building and moving in the direction of a set of SUVs. Ezra held Mae’s hand out to Malik. “Get her to safety. I’ll come after I search for signs of Brad and, well, yes, Brad.”

Malik didn’t give Mae a choice. He lifted her and loaded her into the backseat of one of the SUVs. He tossed a set of keys at Ezra. “Here. Take the other. Meet us back at headquarters. We’re driving straight through.”

Ezra stopped. “I have a safe house near here.”

Malik gazed uncomfortably in at her and then went to shut the door to speak more with Ezra. Mae put her foot out, blocking the door. She leaned. “He doesn’t want me to hear what bad shape Corbin is in. He thinks we need to go straight to where Corbin can get more medical attention. I’ll do it. I’ll go wherever is best for Corbin. You’ll find Brad. Right?”

Ezra nodded, something off in his eyes. “I will. Be well, Mae.”

Boomer took the driver’s seat and Striker loaded Corbin into the back of the SUV and made a move to climb into the area next to him. The spot was hardly adequate for Corbin’s mass, let alone Striker’s too. Mae yanked on her dress, moved some, and flipped the release to lay her portion of the second row bench down, allowing Striker to lie Corbin out more. Mae climbed over Corbin, careful not to touch him. She motioned to the other seat. “Take it.”

Striker moved around the vehicle and took the seat she left for him. Malik sat in the passenger seat. He looked to Striker. “How is he?”

“Brit has lost a lot of blood and I do nae know how close to his heart he was hit. I couldnae count all the shots. They’re too many and there is too much blood.”

Mae ripped at the bottom of her dress and used pieces of it to press to Corbin’s bloodiest spots. She didn’t cry at first as they drove. Each time they hit a bump, Corbin hissed in his sleep, and before long she found herself humming lightly next to him, trying to stop his bleeding, her heart breaking for him. He’d finally come into her life and the idea of him being ripped away was so cruel she couldn’t think more on it.

Instead, she hummed, thinking relaxing thoughts. Trying to will peace, love and healing energy over him, despite having no real clue how to do such a thing or even if it could be done. Finally, he stopped responding to each bump of the SUV and slept soundly.

Her attention went to the other men in the SUV. Malik was asleep and Striker was doing something to him with a permanent marker while Boomer drove. Striker’s gaze moved to her.

“Och, lass, keep singin’. He’s sleepin’ right through me giving him new eyebrows.” Striker’s tongue darted out as he concentrated on his task. Boomer hit a pot hole and the pen jerked hard in Striker’s hand. He pursed his lips. “That one will be his evil villain brow.”

Mae giggled and realized she’d found very little funny since she’d been taken. Laughter was a welcome relief. She took Corbin’s hand in hers and held it to her chest, wanting desperately for him to heal like he had in the lab. Deep down she knew his injuries were far worse than before.