hold of his brother’s arm. And there was the badass who’d given the CIA a run for their money for six long years, holding on to a girl, his hand on her waist, and listening to every word the younger man leaning over him had to say.
“Travis, get us a stretcher,” he called out. “We’re going to have to transport J.T. Gillian, get over here and tell me what you think is going on with him. He looks like hell. Quinn, get Dr. Brandt on the horn and tell him to get on the first flight out of D.C.”
He reached J.T. and knelt down next to Kid, who didn’t look like he would relinquish an inch of space by J.T.’s side. Dylan didn’t blame him. “What’s happening here?” he asked.
“I-I don’t know,” Jane said. “He’s got pills. He takes pills, but I don’t know which one to give him.”
Dylan saw the gelcaps spilling out of J.T.’s pocket, and he knew exactly what they were. He’d seen Gillian take hundreds of the things, all of them prescribed by Dr. Brandt.
“Gillian!” he shouted out.
“Here, boss,” she said, kneeling.
She reached for J.T.’s face, her palm down, like she was going to check his temperature, but the man caught her wrist faster than she could retreat.
“That’s a good sign,” she said, glancing up at Dylan, then looking back to J.T. “What color pill did you take?”
“Red.”
She nodded and sifted her fingers through the pills on the floor. “I had a run-in with Dr. Souk four years ago,” she said. “Things didn’t go well with me, but I’m good now. Very little memory loss. No shooting pains in my arm. No headaches like the one you’re having now.” She shifted her glance to meet his gaze. “Flashing white lights? In long streaks?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, those can get bad. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long without help.”
Dylan remained silent, watching the two of them, listening to Gillian and seeing J.T. slowly release her wrist. Kid looked tense as hell, overcome with emotion and maybe fear. He had his brother back, but nobody knew what that really meant.
Gillian continued what she was about, resting her palm on J.T.’s forehead, then along the side of his neck.
“You’re spiking,” she said, shifting her attention back to the pills. “And you’re getting the shakes. That’s a bad sign.”
Indeed, J.T.’s body had started trembling.
“You’re going to lock up here in a minute or two,” she said, putting her hand back on his forehead. “A full-out seizure will hit you when you get to a hundred and four degrees. I’ve seen it, Con. I’ve been there, and it’s a long way back. I can teach you a few things, though, to help you out, if you live long enough.”
Picking one of the pills up, she touched it to her tongue. It was a deep, eggplant purple, and Dylan didn’t know what in the hell it did.
“Klorizapat,” she said, looking down at J.T. “You ready for this?”
He gave a short nod, she put it in his mouth, and that was it.
Two seconds later, he went out like a light.
Fuck.
“Travis!” Dylan yelled. “Where’s that stretcher?”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Con came back to consciousness in a hospital and immediately felt a jolt of fear. The lights were low in the room, the windows dark with night. Bad things happened to guys while they were out cold in hospitals—unless they had a guardian angel.
A strong hand came to rest on his shoulder. “It’s all right, J.T. I’ve got your back.”
Con glanced up. J.T.—he still didn’t know much about that name, but he knew the man sitting next to his bed was his brother whether he remembered him or not, and that was a definite “or not.”
“Kid … Chaos.” He spoke the name slowly, surprised at how raspy his voice sounded.
The hand on his shoulder tightened.
“It’s good to see you awake,” the guy said, and his voice sounded a little tight, too. “Do you need anything?”
A memory of you, Con thought, but shook his head no. Kid Chaos looked like everything Con would have wanted a brother of his to be, and, faced with the younger man, he felt the loss of his old life more keenly than he could have anticipated.
“I know this is hard for you right now,” Kid said. “Hard for everybody to figure out, and I want you to … uh, know there’s no reason to push the situation any more than you’re comfortable with. Not on anybody’s account. Dr. Brandt is a good guy, one of