left on charge sat on the table by the hallway door. A small smile flashed across Clay’s face as he picked it up, sliding the back off it. While he didn’t anticipate any further problems from Elliot by the time he was done, Clay wasn’t a man to put all his eggs in one basket. From his bag, he drew a small device out and slipped it into an empty space in the phone and replaced the back. This way, he would be able to track Elliot’s movements so long as he had the phone on him, just in case.
Stepping into the hallway, he paced down its dark length to where he knew the bedroom lay, smiling when he caught the sight of the door ajar through the light filtering out of the bathroom.
Adjusting his grip on the injector, he stepped into the shadowy bedroom. A large bed took a prominent position at the center of the back wall. A large shape lay curled beneath the comforter, and as Clay listened, the sounds of heavy, even breathing could be heard.
Quietly taking a deep breath and holding it, he slipped closer to the bed. Without the curtains of a four-poster bed in the way, Clay wondered how he never realized that the shape of Elliot should have given him away. Even asleep and unmoving, Elliot’s body took up a great deal of space. But without anything in the way, Clay would be able to see every little movement the man made. He hoped the injection would be quick and unnoticed, Elliot had slept lightly at Anthony’s, but Clay hoped the man was a deeper sleeper at home.
As he reached the side of the bed, Clay hesitated. The figure was still unmoving, and his breathing hadn’t altered in the slightest. In fact, there hadn’t been the slightest alteration to Elliot’s breath as he slept, or the faintest twitch of his body beneath the sheet.
“Damn it,” Clay muttered. “Again?”
Movement from behind caught his eye, and pain burst along the right side of his head. He had enough time to curse before he felt himself pitch forward, and darkness took over his vision.
Elliot
As he stared down at the unmoving, and now tied up body of the would-be assassin, Elliot had to resist the urge to give him a swift kick. It had taken a great deal of self-control to keep himself calm as he’d dragged Clay’s unconscious body away from the bed and tied him up. A blow to the right spot on someone’s head was a good way to knock them out quickly, but people didn’t always stay unconscious for long.
Once that was done, he turned on the bedroom light and knelt beside his bed to pick up the object Clay had dropped after the blow. Elliot held it up to the light, his gut tightening as he turned the tip toward him and saw a small needle through a hole in the end. Whatever liquid was in the object, it was obviously meant for Elliot, and Clay was going to inject him while he’d been asleep.
“Fucker,” Elliot muttered, dropping it on the bed.
Standing up, he bent over and pulled the comforter back. Elliot was rather proud of the stack of pillows and blankets. He’d spent a good ten minutes that night, making sure it looked like him asleep in the bed. The small device next to the heap was still playing the looping sounds of him sleeping. He reached out, turning the sound off.
“Clever,” Clay said.
Elliot turned sharply to face the man. Clay was still against the wall, though sitting up rather than hunched over. The smaller man was unmoving, his arms and hands tied in front and left to rest in his lap. His dark eyes stared up at him with an expression that Elliot could see was amusement.
Clay shook his head. “Can’t believe I fell for the wrong person in bed trick again. I must be getting sloppier than I realized.”
“Good thing for me,” Elliot growled.
Clay winced. “Though less good for this headache of mine. Did you really have to hit me so hard? You could have used half the strength and still got the same result.”
“Consider it payback,” Elliot told him.
Clay’s eyes moved down Elliot’s body, resting on his legs. “How’s the knee?”
“Nothing a little ice and aspirin couldn’t fix.”
“Oh, good. I tried to be gentle about it.”
Well, that certainly answered one of his suspicions. The blow could have very well shattered Elliot’s kneecap, but instead, he’d merely limped