the doorway there was a table with a crystal decanter. It was pretty, expensive as hell, and heavy. Filled with water every morning, it sat there, along with two glasses. She had the syringe in one hand, uncapped, ready.
Smiling, she picked up one of the glasses, moved a few feet away from the door, and then turned, hurling it against the far wall, where her guard would have to come inside to see it.
As it hurtled through the air, she dropped in a slump, carefully, holding the needle.
The door opened.
She held her breath.
“What the—”
Everybody saw Ella, an elegant-looking woman, she knew. But docile. Easily manipulated. Easily controlled.
And this man was no different.
As he knelt by her, she watched from under her lashes, her gaze shielded. The needle ready. And as he went to reach for her, she moved.
He snarled, but the needle was already in his arm, and at that concentrated dose, all he needed was a little.
Within moments, she had two guns, a knife, another cell phone, and more. She took his body, and not sure what else to do with his limp, unconscious self, she shoved it under the bed.
There. Rawlings was down for the count. She looked around the room, searching for signs of what had happened. There weren’t many. Broken glass. The needle. She carefully picked it up, dropped it in the water decanter, and slipped into the hall, glancing around, left then right, her senses on red alert.
Couldn’t go out the front.
Nor the back door.
Careful . . .
Careful . . .
* * *
SOMETHING rode just under his skin as they closed in on the compound.
He didn’t know what it was, but it had him edgy as hell.
Careful . . .
Careful . . .
Nalini went to touch his arm and he edged away. “Stop it already,” he bit off, even as that whisper danced through his mind.
Careful . . . careful . . .
A soft brush against his shields. A sigh.
Without understanding why, he eased them down.
Jillian’s voice was a soft, hesitant whisper. You have to stop the ice . . . and tell that woman to leave you alone. It’s not helping.
And then, like a wisp of smoke on the wind, she was gone.
“Stop the ice.” He should know what that meant.
Shooting Nalini a look, he saw something dancing through her eyes. Wariness. Secrets.
What. The. Fuck.
She reached out a hand.
He slammed on the brakes. “You touch me again, I’m going to knock your ass out,” he warned, feeling the burn of power rising in his brain.
“How?” A ghost of a smile danced on her lips. “It’s okay, Joss. Just . . .”
She reached out again.
He pressed, sending a warning slice to her mind, watched as she flinched.
“Ahhh . . .” She went pale, even paler than normal. “Nasty, nasty trick, Joss.”
“Don’t touch me again,” he warned.
The burn got hotter. Heavier. But it hadn’t quite managed to penetrate whatever was muzzing his brain.
She sighed. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you have to understand how fractured you are. If you don’t get it under control, you’re going to screw every last one of us. Including her.”
Something flickered through his brain.
Her . . .
Her.
His heart pounded against his ribs.
Heavy. Slow.
Her . . .
* * *
AS she was running across the grounds, she heard them coming behind her.
One of them was coming at an angle, and he was close . . . fast, too.
Damn—
She heard an odd, muffled pop.
There was a shout.
She didn’t slow. Didn’t stop. The dude closest to her was fast . . . streaking her way with a speed that rivaled her own. Patrick had put a decent runner on his guard dog goon squad.
She put more into it, the ground slapping against her feet.
Another odd little pop . . . and the runner was down, screaming in agony.
Gunshots, she realized.
Somebody was shooting. Focusing in the darkness ahead, she thought she saw him. The vivid red of his hair, the spiral of tattoos on his arms. Tucker. Thank God.
The next few moments were a buzzed blur. Adrenaline thrummed through her veins. Her heart was in her throat. Almost out of here . . . almost. Almost.
As she breached the lovely stone gates that surrounded the property, she snarled. Had to climb. Damn. The main gate was closed . . .
Pop, pop, pop . . .
And then a gloved pair of hands closed on her wrists. “I gotcha,” Tucker drawled. The muscles in his arms bulged as he hauled her up, making the tattoos dance and shift.