"He had a gun."
"He did?" I hadn’t felt it when I was grappling with him. And if he’d been armed, why didn’t he just shoot me rather than running?
"Yes. Wait here."
He rose and walked forward. I took a deep, shuddering breath and regretted it almost instantly as the stench of the muck I was lying in made my already unstable stomach twist harder.
I pushed to my hands and knees and clambered from the water to the concrete walkway lining it. After a moment, Lucian returned. This time he was holding two guns.
"Told you," he said, handing me the smaller of the two.
I accepted it somewhat reluctantly. "And why would I want this?"
He offered me a hand. "Because I don’t know who—or what—else might be down here, and another gun might come in handy."
I nodded and placed my hand in his. He pulled me up easily, but the minute I got close to him, his nose wrinkled. "You, my girl, stink to high heaven. Are you okay to walk, or do you need a shoulder to lean on?"
I let go of his hand. "I’m fine." Which was a total lie, but if there were other people down here, he needed to be able to react fast, and he couldn’t do that if I was hanging off him. "How did you find me?"
"Remember that telepathic connection you were bitching about only this afternoon?"
I raised my eyebrows. "I would hardly call what I said bitching. I was just a little unimpressed that you were wandering through my mind uninvited."
"It is a by-product of sex," he said, "and can’t be helped."
"I know." I stepped over Forman’s body and tried not to look at him. Tried not to think that my ability to question him had been annihilated as thoroughly as his head. "But what does that have to do with finding me?"
Lucian glanced over his shoulder, his green eyes shining fiercely in the shadows of the tunnel. "I was on the phone with you when the accident happened, remember?"