Page 40 of Unspoken (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3)

Chapter Forty

Della’s heart pounded against her breast bone. The guard was a good fifty feet from her. She debated making a dive for the window, but how would that be explained? And while she was fast, she didn’t know if she could outrun a bullet.

She cut her eyes to the window where Steve stood, waving for her to come.

The tall shelves hid him from the officer’s line of vision.

“Go,” she whispered.

“What?” asked the guard.

“No,” Steve whispered.

“Go. Get help,” she said and watched as some more loose paper fell from the ceiling.

“Don’t move. I’ll shoot. I swear I will,” the guard yelled.

“Burnett?” Steve asked.

“Chase,” she said without thinking. And in the corner of her eyes, she watched Steve transform back into a bird and he took flight.

“Is someone else with you?” the guard asked.

“No one else,” Della said to the guard and raised her hands. “Just me. Little old me.” The ghost tossed another box from the top of the rack and it crashed at the guard’s feet.

“Who else is here?” the guard asked, looking at the top of the rack.

“Just me,” Della said again and glanced up at the ghost. Please stop it. Please.

The next box that came down hit the guard on the head. Della saw him lose his footing as if slipping on a banana peel. His feet came out, his arms extended.

And right then the gun exploded.

***

Chase had fallen into bed, not that he planned to sleep, but to wait out the need to puke. The three ice cold beers and nasty-tasting bottle of wine didn’t sit well. Or maybe it was that damn soup.

He closed his eyes to stop the spinning, then heard a tap against his window. He shot up and saw the bird. Then he saw the bubbles popping against the window pane.

Two seconds later, he caught the shape-shifter’s scent. What the hell did Steve want?

Wasn’t it enough that he’d just taken Chase’s bondmate on a date? Did the guy want to gloat about it? Was he an idiot?

He grabbed his jeans and shirt and went to the door.

Steve stood there. Breathing hard.

Chase stood there. Breathing hard too, and trying not to throw up.

“What?” Chase asked and right then he caught it. Della’s scent.

He tightened his fist and fought the urge to hit the guy.

“Della,” Steve said, trying to catch his breath.

“Della what?” Chase asked, getting a bad feeling.

“She… she needs you.”

Chase ran to the porch rail and threw up all of the alcohol he’d spent the night consuming.

Then he turned back, wiped his mouth off with the back of his wrist, and asked, “Where is she?”

***

Della sat in front of a desk, at the hospital’s main office, trying as hard as she could to be supremely polite and perfectly poised. Not easy, because neither came naturally to her.

Especially when her little trip here had offered her nothing.

And now she couldn’t help but wonder if someone hadn’t already snagged her father’s files.

Was it the DA? Did they now have evidence in their hands to make sure her father went down for murder?

Della had refused to give anyone her name—hoping that alone would hold them off from calling the police.

Not that she had remained silent the whole time. She’d apologized profusely and explained that she’d wandered in earlier that day before closing hours and somehow found herself locked in the room upstairs.

The woman in charge, Mrs. Applebee, if the name tag was correct, kept asking Della if she was a runaway. She told her no. The woman didn’t actually believe her, but considering the guard’s story, she didn’t look all that bad.

“She can move things,” the guard started up again. “I’m telling you, she was throwing boxes at me with her mind. She’d look up and down would come a box. And that’s when my gun went off.”

Della wasn’t certain if that was actually what had happened, but she had seen the box hit. What she had been certain about was that the bullet had missed her by a few inches.

Right then she noticed that the guard had moved his chair another inch away from her. He’d probably pee himself if Della growled at him.

She might have felt sorry for him if she hadn’t smelled the whiskey on his breath. And from Mrs. Applebee’s expression, she’d gotten a whiff of the guy’s breath as well. That might even be why she was hesitant to call the police. That and the fact that he’d used his gun while intoxicated and shot at an unarmed teen.

Hell, maybe she could use that in her favor.

So far Della hadn’t tried to explain the mess of the upended boxes and files littering the floor. But if the guard kept talking crazy, maybe Della wouldn’t have to.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. How long would it take for Chase to get here? Any minute now, the woman would be calling the police.

Della had hidden her driver’s license, credit card, and phone in her bra, but if they searched her and found them… and, God forbid, attempted to call her mom… No way could Della let that happen. Her mom had enough problems to last a lifetime.

She looked at the door, wondering how much trouble she’d be in if she ran. And she could run: Mrs. Applebee had confiscated the guard’s gun and put it in her desk.

Just when the idea of running seemed like a real option, she recalled the cameras on the outside of the office. They had her face.

Where was her rescue?

Right then her left breast started vibrating. Well, her phone started vibrating. Luckily, she’d silenced it before breaking and entering.

She glanced again at the door. What was taking them so long? Crap. She suddenly remembered that Steve probably thought Chase was still at the school. Which meant Steve would have sought help elsewhere. Her chest tightened and she expected to see a very pissed off Burnett walking through the door any second.

But right now, she’d even take him.

“I’m telling you, she was throwing boxes at me using her mind. She has powers. I’ve seen shows about people who can do that.”

Mrs. Applebee frowned. “Mr. Kelley, just how much have you had to drink tonight?” Then the woman’s gaze shifted to Della. “Tell me your name or I’m calling the police, young lady!”

***

After Steve had finally spit out the words, Chase went inside and in less than thirty seconds dressed in his official black suit. Tasting his breath, he reached into the garbage can, grabbed the Lysol spray, and gave it a shot. It was mostly air, not disinfectant.

Or maybe not. He fought the urge to puke again.

Handing Steve his car keys, Chase told the shape-shifter to meet him at St. Mary’s. Face it, in the dark sky, there was no speed limit or rules about driving after one too many drinks.

In record time, he landed to the side of the hospital. He ran a hand through his hair and patted down his suit. Amazing how flying at a hundred and forty miles an hour could sober a person up.

Not that he knew a lot about sobering up or being drunk. Sure, he drank a glass of Eddie’s Scotch when offered, but this had only been his second time to ever drink enough to cause a buzz. And, like the first time, he didn’t like it.

He walked around to the front of the hospital, relieved there weren’t any police cars. God, he prayed they hadn’t already come and taken her away.

Della needs you. Steve’s words echoed in his head. He’d never heard sweeter words. And hearing them from Steve made them all the sweeter.

He went to the glass doors, picked up the phone, and pushed a button.

“Can I help you?” a male voice asked.

“Yes, I’m here about the situation. The break-in. Here,” he said, looking around for a camera. “I’m holding out my badge.”

The bell dinged and Chase walked in.

He figured he had a snowball’s chance in hell of actually pulling this off without someone calling the FRU office and eventually getting Burnett involved, but Steve had said she’d asked for him, not Burnett. Since her life wasn’t in danger, and no risks were involved, there was no way he was going to disappoint her.

Never mind that she’d disappointed him by trusting Steve with this whole plan without even telling him about it. Chase just hoped the whole date thing had been part of their cover-up.

***

A knock came at the office door and Della held her breath with hopes that it was her savior. She wasn’t even picky. She’d take anyone. Anyone over a real cop who would call her parents.

“Yes,” Mrs. Applebee called out.

A nurse popped her head in the door. “Someone’s here about the girl.”

Della took in a deep breath. Relief went through her when she picked up Chase’s scent—along with some disinfectant.

“Who called the police?” Mrs. Applebee asked and then glared at the guard.

“She probably did it with her mind,” the guard said.

“I don’t know,” the nurse answered.

“Let them in,” Mrs. Applebee said.

Chase walked in. Della’s heart did a few somersaults. His gaze landed on Della for only a second, then focused on Mrs. Applebee. “Madam,” he said and held out the badge.

The woman glanced at it and looked up as if content, or maybe not content. Nervous.

Chase wore his black suit—it looked a little wrinkled, but the disheveled look fit that of a tired officer. His hair was pushed back, a little mussed as if he were coming off a hard shift. He looked official. His height and shoulder width in the suit, accompanied by his five o’clock shadow, hid all signs of his true age. He looked… wonderful. Like her knight in shining armor.

It hit her then. Hard. She loved him. A knot appeared in her throat and she swallowed. Not now! Not now!

“I hear you have an intruder?” Chase said. Mrs. Applebee waved a hand toward Della.

“Yes, I wasn’t aware that you were called.”

Chase eyed her. “Looks like a runaway.”

He must have overheard some of the dialogue before he came in.

“She swears she isn’t, but… she’s not talking.”

“They never do,” Chase said. “A night in a real cell usually loosens their tongues.”

“What’s your name?” Chase asked her.

“I’m not a runaway,” Della said, repeating her concocted story of how she’d wandered in and gotten locked in the room. Then, feeling as if Chase might need the ammunition, she said, “He shot at me. With a real gun. Real bullets. And he’s drunk.”

Chase’s eyes brightened. She saw his eyes shift down her body as if checking for blood. Then he turned to the guard. “You shot at her?”

“No! She threw a box at me and the gun went off.”

“I never threw a box. They must have fallen off,” Della said.

“I… I’m aware how this looks,” Mrs. Applebee said. “I apologize.”

Chase turned back to the woman and Della could see his mind ticking on how to play this. “Did she do any damage?” Chase asked.

“Made a mess of our old files,” the woman said.

“She did it with her mind,” the guard said.

Chase glared at the guard and then at Mrs. Applebee. “You realize you could both get in big trouble. This girl could have been killed.”

Mrs. Applebee’s face turned white while the guard’s turned red, or redder. “Fine, I’m a little drunk, but I know what I saw. She was throwing boxes at me and she was on the floor and the boxes were coming from the top.”

“I apologize for him,” Mrs. Applebee said. “We have a service who hires out security. We weren’t aware that—”

“She’s telekinetic or she’s a witch.” The guard shot up and walked out.

Chase looked back at Mrs. Applebee. “Obviously, this could be trouble. For you and for our… runaway. Are you pressing charges?”

“Well, I…” Her gaze moved to Della. “I tried to solve this without getting the police involved. But she wouldn’t give me any information.”

“If I could get this young lady to give me her information and get her home, would you be willing to drop this?” Chase asked.

The woman looked shocked, but relieved. “Why… yes, I mean nothing bad has happened. Right?” She looked at Della and smiled.

“Will you do that?” Chase asked Della in an official tone.

“I just want to go home.” Della tried to sound desperate. Then again, that wasn’t too hard. She was desperate.

She’d broken into a hospital and didn’t have anything to show for it.