Chapter 3 #2
Indecision creased his face. When he didn’t reply, she made the decision for him.
He didn’t pull his arm back when she wrapped it around her shoulders.
She wasn’t tall—and she was in heels—but she used everything she had to get him to his feet.
It took them three tries before he was upright.
He had at least seven inches on her. She hadn’t realized he was that tall.
She settled his right arm more comfortably around her, thinking he wasn’t that heavy.
Then, he leaned his full weight on her. Rowen nearly buckled under him, but she widened her stance and waited to move until they were both ready.
Then they began their measured and uncoordinated journey.
“They’ll be after you now,” he said between heavy breaths.
“Let me worry about that.” He was leaning more and more on her with every step, yet he fought to keep himself standing. She wouldn’t be able to get him far before she collapsed under his weight. They needed a ride. And quick. “Tell me you have a vehicle.”
His breath rasped in the silence—harsh, uneven, and laced with pain. “Can’t…take…it.”
“Do you have another option? Because I sure as hell don’t.” She began to wheeze under the strain. Thank god for yoga, or she’d be flat on the ground.
“They’ll track,” he huffed.
She bit back a cry of pain when the heel of her shoe slid into a crack in the pavement and twisted her ankle. “They’ll find us regardless with all the CCTV. We need to get you to a doctor.”
“No,” he barked.
She glanced down at his leg to see it drenched in blood. “Look, I have enough shit to deal with. I can’t have you dying on me.”
“I have…a place…to go.”
There was no way he’d be getting there on his own, though. What was the English saying? In for a penny and all that? “Great. Let’s get in your car.” She spotted cars lined along the road. “Which one is yours?”
Please, please let it be close.
He tripped then, pitching them forward. She lunged with one leg and took the brunt of his weight as both arms went around his waist to hold him.
His sharp inhale of pain—along with a warm, sticky wetness on her arm—told her he had another injury.
But she kept him semi-upright with only his left knee on the ground.
His lungs worked in ragged gasps. She chanced a look at him and saw the effort etched into every line of his face—and it wrecked her.
“I’ve got you,” she told him. “We can do this.”
She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her or if he was too lost in the pain.
“Come on. Get up. I’m not going to ruin a perfectly good dress for nothing.”
To her surprise, she thought she heard him chuckle before he attempted to stand. She held steady, waiting as he got his foot under him. She winced as he dug his fingers into her shoulder.
“Car…across,” he panted.
Rowen looked across the road. “You’re kidding.”
He shook his head, unable to produce any more words. She used her shoulder to swipe away some hair sticking to her sweat-streaked face and glared at the crosswalk signal, willing it to change.
Step by step, they drew closer, and just as they reached it, it turned white so they could cross.
She kept one arm around him and the other braced against his chest. His right foot was dragging, but he kept moving.
Both of them were breathing heavily from the exertion, but they reached the other side.
“Where to?” she asked, adjusting his arm so it wasn’t pulling her hair.
He swallowed, the sound loud even above the noise of the city. “Around…corner.”
It was just her luck that he’d parked on the opposite end of the city.
Passersby looked at them, but no one offered to help.
He nearly went down twice, but she kept him erect.
Her muscles were shaking from the strain, and her heels made it more difficult.
She thought about kicking off her shoes, but she wasn’t going barefoot.
Neither said another word as they gradually made their way to the next corner. It felt like a thousand miles away. She was losing him fast, though. She had all his weight and nearly dragged him down the street.
As they turned the corner, he jerked his chin toward a vehicle. “There.”
She eyed the cars, trying to figure out which one he meant. It could’ve been any one of them, so she kept walking until he pointed to the sleek black Aston Martin. It wasn’t until they got closer that she realized it wasn’t black but a green so dark it appeared black.
“You…drive,” he wheezed.
His voice was barely a whisper now. There was no time to argue about driving on streets she didn’t know. “Fine, but you’ll have to stay awake to tell me where to go. Otherwise, I’m driving your ass to a hospital.”
He nodded. At least, she hoped it was a nod.
Rowen brought him to the passenger side and was about to ask for keys when he touched the door.
Lights flashed as it unlocked. She leaned him against the vehicle as she opened the door.
He practically fell into the seat before she had a chance to help him.
She lifted his legs in, one at a time, then shut the door.
As she raced around the front of the sports car, she glanced toward the Druid headquarters and spotted several individuals who appeared to be searching for someone.
It could’ve been her or her new friend, but she wasn’t going to wait around to find out.
She quickly slipped into the driver’s seat.
They lost precious time as she figured out how to adjust the seat so she could reach the pedals.
Rowen blew out a calming breath. This was her first time driving on the wrong side of a car as well as the road, all while at night with a man hanging around death’s door. She was usually good under pressure, but this might be the time when she folded.
“Which way?” she demanded as she looked at her passenger.
He had his head back against the seat but opened his eyes and shot her a quick look. “Last chance to leave me.”
“That ship has sailed. Which way?” she asked again.
He struggled to pull in a breath. “Go up two blocks and take a right.”
She looked for the ignition switch. Just as she was about to dig out her cell phone for a light, he reached over and pushed a button.
Like a predator waking, the engine roared to life in a low growl that turned into a throaty purr.
The sound beneath her wasn’t as loud as she had expected, but there was precision and the promise of controlled power in the deep rumble.
Like something wild barely held in check.
She felt the roaring engine in her chest as the vehicle vibrated, waiting for her command.
She wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel and put the car into drive.
Once she checked to make sure the road was clear, she pressed the accelerator.
The Aston Martin lunged forward smoothly and effortlessly, but too fast. Instantly, she pulled her foot back.
“Don’t stop,” the man whispered.
Rowen accelerated again. This time, she was ready for the aggressive machine.
She rolled through the intersection—thankful for the green light—and past the headquarters, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the road.
It took everything she had to keep the car on the correct side of the street.
Even at a sedate speed, the Aston Martin was less vehicle and more coiled snake, ready to strike.
“Hey,” she said after she took the right turn and glanced at him. His eyes were closed again, and she feared he was dead. “Where to?”
“Three blocks…then…another right,” he replied without opening his eyes.
She kept a lookout in the rearview mirror, but anyone could be following them, and she wouldn’t know it with all the traffic.
Each time she thought he was unconscious or dead, he answered her, leading her street by street…
somewhere—all with his eyes closed. Without lighting, it was hard to tell just how bad off he was.
And with each second that ticked by, she worried that he wouldn’t survive.
Soon enough, they were headed out of the city. She opened up the car once she reached the highway. The gauge told her she was going ninety, but it didn’t feel like it. After passing several vehicles, she slowed and moved into the right lane.
“Now where?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Terror gripped her as she cast a furtive glance his way.
“Hey,” she said louder, giving his right arm a slight shove.
He groaned as he opened his eyes. “I’m…here.”
“You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that again,” she snapped.
“Sorry.”
Rowen shook her head. “We need to stop the bleeding soon. You’ve already lost too much blood.”
“Exit.”
“Where?” she asked, looking ahead.
“Now.”
She realized he was referring to the exit they were passing.
Rowen slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to take the ramp at the last second.
He grunted and jolted in the seat as a car honked behind them.
His eyes remained open after that. He kept a hand on the dashboard as he directed her to a storage unit.
She had to punch in a code to get in. Once the large iron gate rolled open, he guided her to the back, where the largest units were.
“Last…one,” he murmured.
She pulled up to the unit and put the car in park.
She thought of his earlier comment about being tracked, but it wasn’t as if the vehicle could blend in.
It would be better if she hid the car, but that wasn’t her priority right now, he was.
Rowen spotted a digital lock unlike any she had seen before. “What’s the combination?”
“I…have…to.”
The light hanging off the storage unit shone into the car, spotlighting his ashen face. Apprehension knotted in her stomach. “I don’t think you can stand.”
“Retinal…scan.”
“Of course, it is,” she murmured as she unbuckled her seat belt.
Rowen ran around to his side and opened the door.
Getting him in had been fairly easy. Getting him out was something else altogether.
He tried to help, but it was clear that he had used the last of his reserves just to make it to the car.
She was on his wounded side, but he didn’t seem to care.
After his feet were on the ground, she tugged him out of the vehicle.
He then used the car to balance himself as they walked to the building.
She did her best to hold him up when he leaned over to unlock the unit, but they lost that battle within seconds.
He fell hard—and took her with him. His groan of pain cut right through her, but he didn’t lie there in agony as she might have.
They worked together to get him up and, with a little finagling and some luck, handled the lock.
She had to prop him up against the side of the building to raise the door, and as she did, a light clicked on, making her gasp.
This was no mere storage unit. It had been turned into a hidden, utilitarian base.
The outside looked like any other unremarkable, oversized, climate-controlled unit.
The inside, however? It was clear that he had not only thought this through but had spent considerable time and money.
The walls were reinforced and insulated.
One side was for sleeping, the other for gear and living.
A narrow cot rested against the left wall, neatly made.
A small kitchenette sat on the right, with a mini fridge, a kettle, and a hot plate, giving it a bunker-like feel.
A single, locked cabinet in the corner glinted with reinforced hinges.
A row of hooks held coats, weapons, and keys.
There was even a narrow, stainless-steel shower tucked behind a sliding panel, as well as a toilet—sleek, composting, and expensive.
He was very prepared. And if he had gone to these lengths, then he had a first-aid kit somewhere.
“All right,” she said as she reached for him. “Time to get you fixed up.”