Page 13 of The Primary Pest (Iphicles Security #1)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ajax

Ajax Fairchild. I am the one you can’t see in the darkness. I am going to tear you open and pull your heart out.

Ajax dreamed about flying, then falling, and then bouncing off sheer cliff walls, one after another. Because he lived on a continual carnival ride of dreams just like it, he was barely fazed when a hand came down over his mouth.

He snapped his eyes open to find Bartosz glowering down at him. “Dress quickly. Move silently. We have to leave.”

The man pulled his hand up carefully, and when Ajax said, “Where’s Dmytro?” that hand slammed down again. Bartosz’s hot breath fanned his face.

“Quickly. Silently. Got that?”

Ajax nodded that he understood, but his heart beat unbearably fast. Eyes wide, he tried to indicate he’d be quiet this time.

What if something happened to Dmytro? It would be because of him.

When Bartosz let him go, he slid from the bed and put on his watch.

He found a clean pair of jeans and a red Henley his mom had bought him because she said it matched his eyes most days. He put on socks, then shoes.

Already Bartosz stood at the door, waiting. He barely shifted the blackout drapes and looked outside.

Judging from the temperature earlier, Ajax thought it best to pick up his jacket.

He wished he knew what was going on. He opened his mouth to ask, but like a dog trainer, Bartosz made a frightening hsst sound.

Ajax dropped his head in fury and shame, but he obeyed.

If there really was a threat, he could throw a hissy fit later when he was safe.

Bartosz cracked the door, jerked his head, and waved his hand vaguely behind him, which Ajax took to mean stay behind me or don’t get in my way .

Ajax did exactly as he was told, and they crept silently down the gallery together. He stayed between Bartosz and the walls until they got to the stairs. Bartosz went first from there as well, using his enormous body as a shield as much as possible.

Ajax knew enough about the physics of firearms to believe they could both be killed by a single high-velocity round, no matter who stood in front of whom.

Still, he felt comforted by the care Bartosz used to cover him.

Where was Dmytro?

Was he okay?

Why was Bartosz moving him. What had happened to make them discard the bathtub hiding plan?

They crept down the stairs by the office.

The stillness was so absolute, Ajax could hear the distant susurrus of waves.

Were they that close to the ocean? Or was the salt air taking his senses for a ride?

The ice machine dropped a noisy glacier when he passed, making him jump out of his skin.

Bartosz unnecessarily lifted his hand to his lips to hush him again.

Ajax shot him a hard stare. He might have jumped a mile, but he’d known better than to make a single squeak. They made furious eye contact, after which Bartosz jerked his head. They continued toward the office.

Inside, he saw Dmytro leaning over an unconscious girl with blood pooling around her head.

“Oh my God. Is she okay?”

Dmytro and Bartosz ignored him in favor of speaking whatever language they chose for the occasion.

Ajax pushed past them and knelt by her head to check her pulse.

“She’s alive. If you help me support her neck, we can put her in a rescue position in case she starts to vomit. Bartosz, call 911 while Dmytro and I—”

“Why?” Dmytro asked, low-voiced and angry. “So you can get her blood all over you? Put your fingerprints on her? Leave her.”

“No.” Ajax stared at him in horror. Had he been attracted to Dmytro before, in the spa? Something was way off if he’d been attracted to a man who would let a girl lie there bleeding to save his job.

Clearly, he needed to fine-tune his mating skills.

“Turn her, because we need to help her, you asshole .”

“Look, Ajax,” Bartosz offered carefully, “we can call for EMS, but the only person we are bound to help is you. You’re the job. We must let others do theirs.”

“You wanna help me?” Ajax asked through gritted teeth. “Help me to help her, or I’ll scream my head off. It’s nonnegotiable.”

Dmytro sighed, gave Bartosz an I-told-you-so glare, and nodded.

As a former lifeguard, even if it was only at a campground lake, Ajax knew how to support an injured person’s neck.

There was a wound on the back of the girl’s head, but it felt swollen, not depressed.

Blood oozed, but head wounds bled freely, and he knew he couldn’t count on the amount of blood to tell how bad off she was.

She breathed normally, but her color wasn’t good.

Neither was the fact she was unconscious.

“Phone?”

“No calls.”

“I need the light,” Ajax argued. He snapped his fingers for Dmytro, who held out his phone with a put-upon sigh.

Ajax turned on the flashlight and lifted an eyelid. Pretty girl. She had natural lashes that looked thick enough to be fake, a luminously pale face, black hair, and lip, nose, and ear piercings. Tattoos covered her arms where he could see them, including some wonderful sugar skull motifs.

“Someone had a goth phase.” Her pupils reacted to the light at any rate. He glanced around. “She needs to go to the ER. Anytime a head injury causes loss of consciousness—”

“What do you think happened?” Dmytro asked Bartosz.

Bartosz answered with a shrug, “Slipped while she was dancing?”

“Or overdose?” Dmytro posited as he pushed her sleeves past her elbows. “I don’t see needle marks.”

“It’s not an OD. She wouldn’t be breathing. Did you check the till?” Ajax asked with some asperity.

Bartosz’s brows rose. “Till?”

“The cash drawer. Or the safe where they keep cash and credit card receipts. Did you check the back office? Were they robbed, do you think?”

Flushing, Dmytro walked behind the wall to see. “The cash drawer is empty. Receipts are scattered all over.”

“See? Robbed.” Ajax rolled his eyes.

“You can’t trust that. Easy enough to make this look like a robbery. If I wanted to flush someone out, I’d do just that.” Dmytro rattled the office doorknob. “I’ll see if there’s anything—no. The office is locked.”

“She was locked in,” said Bartosz. “Did she know her attacker?

“That just proves this has nothing to do with me.”

“It does nothing of the sort.” Bartosz gave the order, “See if she has keys, Mitya. We must still leave at once.”

Dmytro returned and patted the girl’s pockets down while Bartosz picked up her purse.

“Oh hell no.” Ajax recoiled in horror. “You’re not going to leave this girl—steal her car—”

“We have no choice ,” answered Dmytro. “We have no car. Three coincidences are two too many. Nothing feels right about any of this.”

“If this were about me, I’d already be dead.” Ajax stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “We wait until we know the girl is all right, and then if you want—”

“Ajax.” Inconvenient that the way Dmytro growled his name was exactly right. He felt that deep voice slip straight down his spine and lodge in his balls.

“Don’t be a dumbass. You’ve got this working theory that someone knocked the girl over the head to get to me.” He spread his hands. “But I’m here, so where are they?”

Bartosz shrugged. Dmytro glanced away.

“Man up, guys. We’ve got to help her. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t and anything happened. Plus, don’t even think about getting a paycheck from my parents if you don’t, because my dad is probably gonna be a Nobel laureate someday, and—”

“All right.” Dmytro grudgingly gave in. “But we can’t have police. We’ll have to get her to her car and drop her off at the ER somehow without getting involved.”

“That’s easy,” Ajax lied. “Did it all the time in school when some drunken stunt went wrong. In the meantime, we have to find a way to move her.”

Bartosz offered, “I’ll find something to sling her in.”

“And I doubt she has a neck injury, but I’ll figure a way to stabilize her. We can do this.” Ajax walked behind the counter to see if there was something he could use. “Look, there’s no blood back here, so whoever it was, she probably opened the door to them, turned her back, and wham !”

Dmytro shuddered. “Could you be less enthusiastic? Wait.” He glanced at her. “I think she’s coming back to us.”

Ajax rushed over to see, and sure enough, the girl’s long eyelashes fluttered. Her lips twisted in an agonized wince. “Ow.”

“Are you okay?” Ajax asked. “Do you know what year it is?”

The girl tried to push herself up. “This is the year I stop working crap second jobs.”

“How do you feel?” Dmytro asked.

Her eyes closed. “Really, really—ugh.”

They managed to get her onto her side just as she got sick. Dmytro leaped to his feet and raced outside, where he retched audibly, bent over a planter.

“Sick people make him sick,” Bartosz said.

“He just needs air.” Ajax patted the girl’s back. “Getting sick after a head injury is normal. We should take you to the ER right away.”

Between gasps for air and retching, she said, “Oh God. My head hurts so bad. I need to call JT.”

She reached for her phone, but Bartosz drew it away. “I’m sorry. I can’t allow that.”

Ajax gasped. “Bartosz—”

“Here, take these.” Dmytro, pale as a ghost, returned with some ice and a stack of towels.

Ajax dropped one over the sick and gently wiped the girl’s face with another. “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s gonna be—”

“She’s all right?” Bartosz asked. “Good news. Now get her keys. We need to go.”

“You hit me for my piece of crap car?” she moaned. “You people suck .”

“Bartosz didn’t hit you,” Ajax told her. “Dmytro found you like this. Don’t you remember how you got this way?”

She was silent for a moment. “I remember I wanted a candy bar.”

“Bartosz, did you see anyone around earlier?”

Bartosz shrugged. “Last I saw, she was dancing with buds in her ears. What is that dance with the butt cheeks?”

“You were twerking?” Ajax grinned, but she reddened and threw up again. Once more Dmytro fled. Ajax felt so bad he said, “Hey, it’s okay. Everyone twerks when they think they’re alone.”