Page 8

“I’m fine.” Though he seemed anything but when he wavered on his legs, trying to stand to step into the pants.

Nari popped up to steady him, spilling the contents of the first aid kit across the wood-paneled floor.

Better the kit falling than Anson. He wavered under her hands.

Either his balance was off, or it was his coordination.

Either way, he was in bad shape. So much for speedy shifter healing fully patching him up while he rested.

She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d clearly been more injured than she had been, and the more excessive the injuries, the longer it took to heal, regardless of the shifter healing talent.

Nari looped a hand around his back, helping him over to the ratty couch.

Anson must have been in poor shape because he sat on it without even inspecting its cleanliness—something she’d noticed him do both in the FUC interrogation room and at the hotel they’d stayed at the night before.

He always seemed to do it discreetly, as though he didn’t want others to know about his concern, but Nari’s eagle eyes had noticed.

The fire popped and sparked as if complaining for him.

He picked at the frayed armrest but didn’t say anything.

Crossing the room to gather the first aid kit, she stumbled after tripping over the blankets on the floor.

Maybe she wasn’t in the best shape either.

Her neck and ribs hurt, throwing her balance off somehow.

She’d already cleaned up the scratches on her left arm and the side of her face from when the window shattered—that was a sound she hoped she’d never have to hear again.

But compared to Anson, she was in great shape.

After gathering all the supplies, even the gauze that had tried to roll away under the chair, Nari walked back to the couch to sit next to Anson.

The springs creaked under her weight. That reminded her of Anson squeaking in shrew form while stretching his front legs.

“Can I look at your arms? I want to make sure nothing’s broken. ”

“Are you a doctor now?” At least his dry sarcasm was back.

“No. But all agents are trained in combat first aid.” She did her best to answer without being snarky or snappy. Some people lashed out when you tried to help them. It was hard to be in a vulnerable position. It was hard to trust.

A lump formed in her throat, stopping her from saying the words she was dreading.

From admitting that she was a liar. Just one more in Anson’s life, like Dr. Grimm, who’d promised that if Anson did as he was told, he’d get his sister back—something that never came to be, even after months of Anson cooperating.

“I think I’m fine. I’ll heal. I don’t need to be patched up.” Like a cornered and wounded animal, his green eyes were wide. His arms seemed plastered in his lap, like a statue unable to move.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Anson. I just want to look for bruising and swelling. Please… let me help.”

Finally, he held out his arms. They shook slightly, though if that was from exertion or fear, Nari wasn’t sure. “Your left arm looks okay, but I want a better look at the right. That one was up against the car door. Can you rotate it for me?”

“What am I, a hot dog?” He tried to laugh but winced as he pivoted on the couch.

He moved gingerly, as if afraid his body would fall apart at any moment.

He appeared sore from head to foot, and Nari felt bad.

She’d been the one driving, and his side of the car took the brunt of the force.

If she’d maneuvered the car better, maybe they would have gotten away without crashing. This was her fault. Again.

Nari swallowed a gasp when his right arm came into view.

She tried to keep her best poker face, but a purple spiderweb of bruising spread across his upper arm.

It increased the sting of guilt she already felt over the crash.

“Can you move it?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper. It had to be incredibly painful.

“Yeah, but it hurts. Although so does nearly everything else.” A stony expression slid over his face. Nari felt he was trying to hide the pain from her, putting on a mask of indifference.

“We have an ice pack in the first aid kit, but I’m afraid your arm’s broken. Possibly the bones are shattered. Our best course of action is getting you to a hospital.”

“No,” he said forcefully.

“Anson…” She searched for the right words to talk some sense into him.

“I will heal just fine. I just need some food and rest. That’s all a shifter needs.”

“Shifters generally heal quicker than humans, but extensive injuries are best overseen by a doctor. They need actual medical attention, not superficial treatment from a first aid kit.”

“No hospitals and no doctors.” He winced after trying to shake his head. “That’s how he found her.”

“Who?”

“Ariel. Dr. Grimm used to be a real doctor. Or he at least posed as one and worked at a hospital for a time.”

Nari scooted to the edge of her seat. This was more than FUC had gotten out of Anson in his entire time in custody. It was more information in one sentence than practically everything they had in the Grimm case file. She stayed silent, hoping Anson would continue, and he did.

“He was some kind of geneticist. An expert in his field.”

Anson started coughing, and Nari sprang up, running to the kitchen to find the supply of bottled water. She returned to him with the bottle open, and he drank it like a parched man in the desert.

She waited for him to finish. When he didn’t pick up where he’d left off, she prompted, “I take it your sister had a rare genetic condition, if that’s why she ended up being treated by a geneticist?”

To her relief, Anson was still in a talkative mood.

“Yes. It occurs in some shrew shifter families. She needed a lot of tests and treatment. Dr. Grimm was on her team of medical staff that was supposed to be helping her.” Anson’s face scrunched up like he tasted something sour.

“So, you can see why I don’t do hospitals.

” He sat back on the couch, and his eyes drifted to the fireplace.

He was clearly done sharing the interesting history of Dr. Grimm and Ariel.

“Not a hospital, then. How about FUCN’A?

We could shift, and I could fly you there in no time.

They have a whole medical wing and will make sure you get the best care possible.

” She gently put a hand on his back, trying her best to reassure and comfort him.

It didn’t seem to help. Anson looked as rigid as a board.

“So they can patch me up and then throw both of us in jail?”

She bit her lip. Guilt bubbled in her gut. She couldn’t let this charade continue any longer. She had to come clean. “I never walked out on FUC.” She hung her head. She couldn’t even look at him. Shame burned hot in her cheeks.

“What?”

“I’m still working with them. Me getting you away from FUC?

It was an undercover operation that I proposed.

I was hoping that if we were on the run together, you’d trust me more.

Clearly, you weren’t going to open up to FUC, and they were about ready to give up trying to help you.

” She picked at her cuticles, trying to get the courage to face him.

It felt good to get it all out in the open, but she feared the fallout, feared what he’d think of her.

Why did his opinion of her matter so much? She couldn’t bear hurting him. Misleading him for this long ate away at her. Nari knew going undercover would be challenging, but she never considered she’d start developing some sort of feelings for Anson.

“Of course.” He stood, anger in his voice, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he hissed in pain. Even so, he remained standing. He looked at his hands for a moment, maybe collecting himself. Nari wasn’t sure. “So. The people chasing us, they really weren’t agents, were they?”

She shook her head, sending her dark hair fluttering about her shoulders. “No. They had to be from Grimm.”

He nodded slowly before putting a hand to his forehead. He winced, shutting his eyes. “Great, just great,” he croaked.

“Please, let me get you to a hospital.”

He put his hand out, palm up. “No. Look, maybe it’s for the best. We should go our separate ways. If Grimm has people following me, then I can reason with them. Get them to take me back to him so I can explain my side. It’s not like I’ve given anything up or helped FUC get any closer to him.”

He was right. He hadn’t been of any use to them. Not when it came down to catching Grimm, anyway. Even so, Nari absolutely hated the idea of him leaving—and not just because she was worried about his injuries or upset that he was willing to go back to his henchman life.

She didn’t want to admit it, but what she really took offense to was his willingness to abandon her.

She chose to ignore it. Chose to ignore his threat to leave altogether and, instead, focused on her first aid.

She grabbed the soft plastic-wrapped gel pack, massaging it with her hands to break up whatever made the pack get cold.

The chemicals inside activated, getting chilly immediately in her hands.

She wrapped it in a thin towel and passed it to Anson.

“There’s only one. I suggest you have your head and arm take turns with it. ”

With a bemused expression, he took it, baring his teeth for a second as he gingerly held the pack against his head.

“If we can’t go to a hospital, please let me at least clean some of your cuts. Do you know what necrotizing fasciitis is? Believe me, you don’t want it.” Hopefully that would coerce him. Anson seemed like a germaphobe.

His skin turned a slight green at the thought, and he held out his cut-up hand. She pulled over the first aid kit, riffling through it until she found the antiseptic ointment and some bandages.

“If you’re going to poke and prod at me all afternoon, can you reward me after by finding something to eat?” The corners of his lips curled as if trying to smile, but it was too painful. It ended up looking more like a grimace.

“It’s actually close to nightfall. You were out most of the day.” She glanced out the front window of the cabin, overlooking the valley. A rainbow of colors lit up the sky between the mountain peaks in the distance, ushering in the beautiful sunset.

“Oh.” He blinked away the remaining disorientation and confusion. It probably felt to Anson like he was only out a few minutes. “Well, what about the food? Do you think whoever owns this place left something edible behind?”

“FUC owns this place,” she revealed. “We’re in one of their safehouses. And, yes, there are plenty of nonperishables.”

“Ow.” He pulled his hand back when she tried wiping one of the cuts with the ointment.

“I’m being as gentle as I can.” He offered his hand back.

She dabbed at it, barely applying pressure.

His eyes fluttered shut as he squinted. “I’m almost done.

” Grabbing for the bandages, she put down the ointment and selected the best size.

Gingerly, she laid the bandage across his hand, tapping at the adhesive so it would latch onto his skin without hurting from the pressure of pressing it on. “Now for your head wounds.”

He snatched his hand back. “No way. That hurt bad enough. I’m not letting you anywhere near my face.”

“Come on. You don’t want an infection.”

“I’m done with you playing doctor. I can find a mirror and clean it up myself.”

“I don’t think so,” she said firmly while shaking her head. “You barely made it to the couch.”

He sighed. “Can you please just find some food? I’m starving.”

“Fine.” She set the kit down on the table and walked toward the kitchen at the back of the cabin.

Telling Anson the truth had gone better than she’d expected.

And what a weight off her chest. Nari hummed softly to herself as she rummaged through the wooden cupboards, looking for something to eat.

She was glad to have Anson almost back to his sarcastic, high-maintenance self.