Page 65 of Shadow Boxed (Shadow Warriors #2)

O’Neill’s breath left in a hiss. He recognized the shooter. One of Aiden’s dead squid brothers.

Another image rose out of the fog.

A body...pale, waxy skin, with greenish tinges...surrounded by the shimmer of stainless steel.

The image vanished, but not before O’Neill recognized the equipment of a lab. Stainless steel counters, microscopes, computer terminals. And the body...the pale waxy, dead body? It had been standing.

Nantz’s lab? Had to be. But there was no indication where the damn thing was located.

And then a woman’s face rose out of the swirling fog.

Blonde hair, vacant eyes, the rise and fall of her chest beneath a stained and dingy lab coat...

The woman disappeared, replaced by a...a tent? A rickety red bicycle? A bed made of blankets? The underside of a bridge?

What the hell?

And then...the fog vanished...the images disappeared.

A shrill, mechanical scream suddenly sounded. He reeled back. Bumping into the ventilator. A hand latched onto his arm and eased him away from the bed.

The PA system crackled to life. “Code blue, room 52. Repeat, code blue in room 52.”

“We best move out of their way.” Wolf pulled O’Neill toward the door.

A pair of blue-scrubbed nurses brushed past them and converged on the bed. The shrill, electronic scream went on and on. Disoriented, O’Neill stared at the screaming equipment. The EKG line was flat. No spikes. No valleys. Flat.

“Fuck,” O’Neill said. “Did I kill him?” Had he dislodged something while he was beside the bed.

“No.” Wolf’s voice was certain. “He has flatlined before. Twice.”

O’Neill grunted. He suspected they weren’t going to get his heart back online this time. The shrill scream of the EKG alarm broke off mid-shriek.

Two doctors flew past them, disappearing into the room. O’Neill glanced back as Wolf guided him away, but all he saw was blue and green scrubs fluttering beneath frenetic movement...all he heard was the staccato bark of orders.

“Did you see anything?” Wolf asked as they retreated down the hall, finally settling against the wall.

With a grunt, O’Neill scrubbed his hands down his face. “Yeah...but nothing that will help us find those labs. I saw a cadaver, a standing one. The equipment from some kind of lab. A blonde gal in a lab coat. But no location...no city...no building...nothing to identify where the lab is.”

Wolf didn’t look surprised. He just shrugged, glancing back toward the room.

Judging by the clipped orders drifting out of the room, Nantz was still unresponsive.

Slowly, the urgency of the voices drained away.

Thirty minutes later, the nurses and doctors trickled out of the room with slumped shoulders and defeated expressions.

Doctor Brickenhouse, the lead physician, paused beside Wolf. “I’m sorry Betanee. We did all we could. But his heart was too damaged to restart.”

Wolf simply nodded.

“That’s why you wanted me to try?” O’Neill asked as they turned and headed back down the hall. “You knew he was dying?”

“I was warned.” Wolf’s voice sounded weary. His footsteps were heavy against the flooring.

O’Neill grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t see anything useful.”

“You tried. That is all one can do.” He paused, hesitating in front of a closed door.

Ah...this must be Samuel’s room.

“I’m gonna check in with Gracie and Muriel. Call me when Cap has something.” Without waiting for a response, he started walking again. Wolf didn’t join him. Glancing back, he saw the door was now open and Wolf was gone.

When he pushed through the swinging door into the lobby, the first thing he saw was Muriel standing in front of the reception desk. Damn, seeing her here was kind of freaky, like his excuse back there had summoned her.

He stepped to the side so he wouldn’t block the door.

She looked good. Okay—better than good. She looked beautiful.

But then, she always looked beautiful. He gave himself time to appreciate her.

Drinking in the shimmer of her thick black hair beneath the bright room lights.

Even caged in its braid, her hair looked lustrous. Silky soft.

Which was the wrong thing to focus on. Ancient memories stirred. The coolness of her hair, as it trailed along his hot chest, its silky texture wrapped around his fist. Something awoke inside of him. Something hungry. Thirsty. Parched.

Whoa...

He banished the memories before he embarrassed himself and moved to a less problematic view. Her bottom lip. Still chapped, still swollen, still raw. She was still torturing it, which meant she was still stressed.

His chest went hot and tight. He hated this...hated seeing her pain without being able to comfort her. He started to reach out, to soothe the swollen pink flesh, before he remembered that she wasn’t his anymore—if she ever had been. He had no right to touch her.

Suddenly, he realized he’d been standing here, staring at her, while the silence between them stretched into awkwardness. Fuck, what a moron.

“Hey.” He forced a smile. “Wolf’s in with Samuel, if you’re here for a visit.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Samuel agreed to see him? He won’t see me, or Olivia.”

O’Neill scoffed. “Our Betanee, gave him no choice. Just walked in.”

Muriel turned to face him. “I’m glad I ran into you.” She hesitated, and then said, “I have a favor to ask.” The words tumbled out in a rush.

He tilted his head. A hint of red darkened her cheeks. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“I was telling some of Olivia’s friends from The Neighborhood about Gracie’s self-defense lessons. And what a great teacher you are. How good you are with her, how patient. And how much she loves the lessons.”

Warmth spread through his chest as her words hit. She thought he was a good teacher? She liked how patient he was with Gracie? It felt like it was the first compliment he’d ever received. Hell, maybe it was. He was stunned by how good it made him feel.

“I have no idea what I’m doing when I’m with her,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. Only after the words left his mouth did it occur to him that it might not be smart to let her know how unprepared he was for fatherhood.

She laughed. “Welcome to parenthood. Anyway—” She hesitated again. “ Hokalita can be a dangerous place for native women. We were wondering if you’d be willing to teach the rest of us how to protect ourselves.”

“You want me to teach you self- defense?” His stomach twisted, even as his cock twitched.

“Well yeah. Me, and the rest of the women of The Neighborhood.”

He barely heard anything beyond her confirmation. She was asking him to give her self-defense lessons. His cock did more than twitch this time. The crotch of his tactical pants shrunk. Which was a good indication how screwed he was if he granted her request.

Teaching self-defense was very hands-on...lots of positioning of body parts....lots of touching...like lots of touching.

So yeah...teaching her self-defense would be...complicated.

And frustrating.

And probably painful.