chaos. Every pump pushed the shame of her cowardice deeper into memory, gone but not forgotten.
As she climbed to the roof, that chaos throb was like the faintest
beat of a distant heart, that pulse coming stronger with every step, chaos reeling her in.
“Where is she?” Karl snarled.
“Put him down!” someone yelled.
“Oh, I intend to.”
Hope threw open the door. Karl stood at the roof edge, one hand around Rhys’s throat, holding him over the side. Two armed SWAT team members had their guns trained on Karl.
Rhys hung there, unmoving. He was fully conscious, just staying very, very still.
“Karl? I’m okay.”
He turned. The Cabal team still shouted orders. But he ignored them. His gaze traveled up and down Hope, assessing, as if, should she be injured, he might not rethink his threat to drop Rhys.
The Cabal men—like good soldiers—gave her only the briefest glance, checking for weapons, then dismissing her. When they looked away she mouthed and pantomimed a message, telling Karl she’d come with Rhys, that he wasn’t planning to harm her.
He turned away before she was certain he got the message.
“So your plan failed, did it?” he growled at Rhys. “Hope was smarter than you gave her credit for. Outwitted you and escaped. Don’t expect me to give you another shot at her. That’s not how I handle threats.”
Rhys’s eyes saucered, a choked “wait!” burbling up as Hope flew forward, shouting for Karl to stop. He spun . . . and threw Rhys at the nearest guard as he lunged at the other.
Rhys hit the first guard, bowling him down in a shower of gravel and dust. Karl knocked the second one flying. Hope ran for Rhys’s gun, dropped near the door. She made sure it was loaded with darts, then shot both the Cabal men. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, but she managed . . . after missing once and lodging a second dart in Karl’s pant cuff.
Afterward, as she held a torn scrap of Cabal SWAT uniform to Karl’s newly re-split lip, she said, “Next time you plan a fake out, warn me.”
“If I did, your reaction wouldn’t be nearly as authentic.”
Rhys returned from dragging the second guard behind the rooftop shed. “I’d appreciate a warning, too, though I’ll settle for not being used as a missile.”
Karl shrugged, committing to no such promise.
KARL AND RHYS HAULED UP THE MEN on the stairs—both unconscious and given a second shot to be sure they stayed that way. Then Hope told them about the woman and the guard on the third floor, and said, “Irving came down looking for the guard.”
“And?” Rhys prompted.
“I tranquilized him.”
“And?”
Karl’s head whipping around. “What’d he ask you to do?”
Hope touched his arm. “I didn’t. Rhys says Irving will come back after us, and he’s right, but that’s when I heard you, so I left him.”
“Good. You two check for more guards. I’ll look after Irving.”
“I-I can. I should.”
“No, you shouldn’t. And you’re not going to.”
He strode off to take care of it for her . . . as always.
FINN
* * *
FINN HATED TO BE UNGRATEFUL. But if there were people with other supernatural powers, he couldn’t help wishing he’d been blessed with a more useful one, like teleportation. Having a phantom partner who had to rely on public transit seemed rather mundane. And, under the circumstances, rather frustrating.
He’d sent Damon on ahead with Adams and the man Robyn had called Rhys. But when Finn lost their car in traffic, Damon had to bail, then hitch rides back to the spot where he’d last seen Finn, find him and tell him which direction Adams was traveling. Now they were stuck canvassing the area, searching for the car.
Or, Finn should say, he and Robyn were searching. When Damon got near his wife, he was as useless as a twelve-year-old boy with a naked supermodel. He just sat there beside her in the backseat, staring and fidgeting, frustrated beyond reason, able to see and not touch.
“Did you get her shoulder checked?” Damon slid to the edge of the seat and leaned over.
“Couldn’t. She seems fine with it, though.”
“Didn’t I warn you that as long as Bobby’s conscious, she’ll say she’s fine? She needs to see a doctor.”
“And she will, as soon as we’re done. That’s her decision.”
When Finn had first started talking to Damon, Robyn would look up sharply, listening just long enough to realize he wasn’t speaking to her, then nod and turn her attention back to the window. After a few exchanges, she’d caught on