Page 111 of Tricked By Jack

Her gray eyes lock on mine, steady despite the pain. “Always,” she echoes, and it’s the only vow I’ll ever need.

Chapter 35

The Trickster

Icarry Eve through the warehouse doors, her body a weight I refuse to surrender. Blood seeps through the tattered fabric on her body, warm against my skin, binding us together in ways I never wanted.

Her breath comes in shallow gasps against my neck, and each step I take causes her to whimper. It’s a fucking dagger to my heart.

“Stay with me,” I murmur against Eve’s hair, not sure if I’m ordering or begging. Her eyelids flutter, gray irises fighting to focus on my face.

I’m ten steps from my car when tires screech against asphalt. Nick’s car slides to a halt. Marco jumps out of the front passenger side while my brother erupts from the driver’s side, face twisted with fury.

He opens his mouth but whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue when his gaze catches on Eve in my arms.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, rushing to my side.

I shake my head. “We need a doctor for Eve.”

Nick’s eyes darken, hardening with purpose. He doesn’t waste time asking questions I won’t answer. Instead, he pulls open the rear door of his car, helping me maneuver Eve inside without jostling her injuries.

“Shelby’s still inside,” I tell him as I slide onto the back seat, cradling Eve across my lap. “Marco can get her, butshe needs to stay alive until Eve’s ready to deal with her.”

Nick nods once, already barking orders at his head of security, something about cleanup and other things that turn into white noise. My focus narrows to Eve, to the rise and fall of her chest, to the flutter of her pulse beneath my fingertips.

“Nick,” I growl, not liking how long this is taking.

“Coming.”

He gets into the car and, wasting no time speeding away, drives with the precise aggression that’s gotten us out of trouble our entire lives. Eve screams in pain as Nick swerves to avoid the car that’s stopped in front of us.

“Easy,” I whisper, angling her so the pressure on her shoulder eases. “I’ve got you.”

Her eyes open, glassy with pain but clear enough to find mine. “Jack,” she rasps, “she… I…”

“Don’t talk,” I cut her off, pressing my lips to her forehead. The copper tang of blood clings to her skin, to mine, to everything. “Save your strength.”

The city blurs past the windows, Nick weaving through traffic with single-minded determination. I keep my hand pressed against Eve’s shoulder, feeling the steady pulse of blood against my palm.

My own injuries are nothing but background noise. The only pain that registers is hers, each wince and muffled groan like a knife between my ribs.

“Almost there,” Nick announces, eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

The gates of Nick’s estate swing open before we reach them, someone having called ahead. We tear up the long driveway, gravel spitting beneath the tires. The mansion looms ahead, and when we get closer, I see Carolina standing on the front steps.

Nick barely puts the car in park before he’s out, yanking open my door. “Carmichael’s ready,” he says, helping me slide out with Eve still in my arms. “Everything’s set up.”

I nod, unable to spare a breath for gratitude. Eve has gone terrifyingly still in my arms, her head lolling against my chest. Only the faint warmth of her breath against my neck tells me she’s still fighting.

Carolina gasps when she sees us, one hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispers, but there’s no hysteria in her voice—just controlled horror, the kind that comes from understanding exactly what stands before her. “This way.”

She leads us through the foyer, past the grand staircase, down the west wing corridor. My boots leave bloody prints on the marble, a trail of violence through the pristine halls of my brother’s home.

The hospital wing occupies the entire first floor of the west wing—a necessity in our line of work. Dr. Carmichael stands ready in the central treatment room, flanked by two nurses in crisp scrubs.

Her face remains impassive as we enter, only the slight widening of her eyes betraying her shock at Eve’s condition. “On the table,” she instructs, already pulling on gloves.

I hesitate, my arms tightening around Eve. The thought of letting her go, even to save her, coils like a viper in my chest.