Chapter 9
Inching forward, Cam turned the lock on the bathroom door. It made a sharp snap. She cringed. She kept her hand pressed to her mouth, as if doing so would stop her sporadic breaths from being heard. Crashes and grunts reached her ears. No more gunshots. Yet.
She couldn’t just sit here. There was no window to escape from, and even if there were, she wouldn’t leave Brooks to fight on his own. Not that she’d be much help, but two against two was better than two against one. He’d told her the drug made him stronger and feel less pain, but would it still benefit him now, twenty-four hours later?
“Back up!” a male voice bellowed.
Crash!
Dammit. She crouched and unlocked the door. Closing her hand around the cold metal handle, she struggled to even out her breath. Instinct made her want to bolt out of the bathroom, but common sense kept her rooted. If there was even a small chance they didn’t suspect she was here, she had to stay out of sight. Opening the door a crack, she brought her eye to the opening.
A man with close-cropped orange hair and skin speckled with freckles held Brooks in a chokehold. Sweat rolled off Brooks’s red face. He snatched the redhead’s arm, tore it away from his neck, and twisted. The redhead screamed and fell to his knees.
The second man stood a few feet away, his body rigid. He held a gun trained on Brooks. Blond hair fell over his forehead. “Stop fighting! Come with us now or—”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Brooks laughed. He stepped forward, arms up, and delivered a roundhouse kick to the gunman’s arm. The weapon careened from his hold and skittered toward the nightstand.
Cam’s chest ached with each pummel of her heart against her breastbone. Brooks delivered a devastating punch to the blond guy’s face, sending him backward against the wall. The redhead on the floor moved. Cam’s senses zapped to attention. Brooks hovered over the other man crumpled on the floor. “Next time you find me, I’ll kill you.”
Cam pulled the door open further. Her bag was just outside the door. All she had to do was reach around the door frame. Wriggling her fingers around the edge of the jamb, she grazed rough canvas. Pinching the edge of the bag, she dragged it into the bathroom, her gaze locked on the man on the floor behind Brooks with his back to her. The redhaired guy sat up and reached for his ankle. A silvery sheath caught the light from the window.
No!
She unzipped the bag and delved her hand inside. Where was the gun? She’d stuffed it near the bottom, cloaked in a shirt. The man lifted the knife and took a step toward Brooks. Shit! Her hand brushed over a hard object covered in cotton. She pulled it out and unwrapped the weapon. Rising on shaky legs, she removed the safety.
“Drop the knife!” Her voice boomed through the room. She swung the gun in front of her, aiming at the redhead with the blade. He turned, and his mouth twisted into a snarl as he slid his eyes up and down her body. Brooks lunged forward, grabbed the guy’s wrist, and squeezed.
“Ah!” he cried, dropping to one knee. The knife fell from his fingers and bounced on the tattered brown carpet.
Brooks’s face blossomed with rage. So violently red, it was almost purple. Cam approached, pointing the gun at the kneeling man. The blond man shifted on the floor, scooting away from Brooks and stopping to rest against the wall near the door. She inched closer to Brooks, until she was between the two attackers. She jerked her head from one to the other.
“They’ll find you,” the man panted, his focus on Brooks. “No point running.”
A vein in Brooks’s neck pulsed. Cam watched, transfixed, as he battled with the small amount of control holding him back from killing the guy. If murder had ever been written in someone’s eyes, it was now.
“What do they want with him?” she asked.
The man withered in Brooks’s hold. “Can you let go?”
Brooks’s mouth was a hard line. “No.”
“He’s the only patient so far who’s handled the drug,” he said, wetting his lips. “They’ll never stop looking for you. They need to tweak the medication, and you’re the only surviving candidate, from what I know.”
Brooks cranked his wrist. The man screamed, grappling against Brooks’s hold. Cam winced as the tendons in the man’s arm pushed against the skin, ready to snap. She lowered the gun. “Brooks—”
He didn’t look at her. His gaze stayed locked on the man’s face. His features pinched together.
“I remember you. You’re Tyler. One of the guards who hit me with the dart when I escaped the other night.”
“Yeah, so,” he rasped.
“You also helped Eddie get me in the water chamber.”
Sweat poured down the man’s neck. “I didn’t have a choice.” He cast a nervous glance at his partner. “Nixon, do something!”
“Wrong answer.” Brooks snapped the man’s arm to the side. Bone broke through the skin and blood spurted out in a straight line, smacking the window.
Cam staggered backward. Nausea took hold of her stomach. Pain-filled screams ripped through the air, mixing with her own cries. A scurry of movement made alarm bells screech in her head. A hand closed around her bicep just as her back was pressed hard against a man’s chest. Nixon. She’d taken her eyes off him for a second. Now he had her. He reached for the gun in her fingers. Instinctively, she shoulder-checked him in the chest then swung the butt of the gun into his face.
Smack
Metal bounced off bone. A glowing red mark spread over his cheekbone. He rubbed the spot, his eyes glittering rust-colored embers. She lunged away, but his meaty hand caught her bicep. She cried out as his fingertips dug into her flesh.
“Hey!” Brooks’s voice shook the room.
Nixon swept her in front of his chest again, positioning his knife next to her cheek. Her eyes took in the silvery blade and her knees shook. He wrenched the gun from her fingers. “Get in our van outside and I won’t slice her pretty face off.”
All the heat in her body fell to her feet, leaving a tingling, cold sensation in her limbs. The sharp tip of the knife touched her jaw. She drank in puffs of air through her nose. The faint smell of sweat and blood singed her nostrils. She brought her attention to Brooks. His body was solid as steel, his eyes flaring saucers of rage.
If he charged, she’d be dead.
***
Tyler’s howls turnedto dull moans. The man at Brooks’s feet was no longer a threat. He stomped over the whimpering form. Fear cloaked Cam’s eyes, stealing away the light that normally exuded from her like a ray of sunshine. The terror tightening her cheeks made his stomach slosh with unease. Her fingernails curled into the fucker’s forearm. Her lips trembled as he approached. His lungs expanded and retracted. His brain fought with his body not to react—not when she could be inadvertently hurt. He balled his hands into fists. The skin on his knuckles pulled. When he got ahold of the sonofabitch, he’d shatter his legs.
“Not another step!” Nixon bellowed, digging the blade harder against Cam’s milky skin. Cam’s gun hung in his hand in front of her chest.
Her eyes bugged out as she rose onto her toes. A small gasp left her lips, almost a plea, and all the restraint in Brooks came undone as he moved forward.
“I mean it! I’ll take off her fucking lips if you try anything.” He slid the blade closer to Cam’s perfectly shaped mouth. Brooks halted. Energy vibrated through his body. Keeping it in check took every ounce of self-control. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Cam get caught in the crossfire.
“If you leave with us now, she won’t get hurt.” Spit flew from his lips.
Brooks lifted his mouth into a sneer. His temper flared. Blood beat against his temples. He wasn’t going back. And he sure as hell wouldn’t let them hurt Cam. “How about you let her go and I won’t break your friend’s neck?” He kicked Tyler until he landed on his face in front of the nightstand. Pressing his foot into the side of Tyler’s neck, Brooks met Cam’s assailant’s eyes dead-on. Tyler twisted and bucked beneath his foot, but his broken arm prevented him from putting up a half-decent fight. Brooks surveyed the blood pumping onto the floor. “I think his bone nicked an artery. You’d better hurry if you want him to live.”
Nixon shifted his gaze from his friend to the front door.
“Let her go,” Brooks said. Steel coated his words. The only reason both men weren’t dead right now was because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his actions harmed Cam. She’d put her life on the line to help him, and he’d see to it she remained safe.
Nixon pushed Cam toward the bed. She stumbled, and her knees hit the mattress before she caught her balance. Brooks forced himself to keep pressure on Tyler’s neck and not run to Cam’s side. Blood trickled down her chin. She sported a red cut below her lip.
A gray haze of fury closed in around Brooks’s eyes, giving him tunnel vision.
“I can’t return without you,” the blond fucker said, his voice a teeter-totter of notes.
Brooks moved slowly, so he stood between the bed and the dude, shielding Cam with his body. He hung his hands at his sides. The bastard had Cam’s gun and the other one had been cast away. Didn’t matter. “You won’t have to worry about that.” Brooks charged.
Nixon stumbled backward and fired the gun.
Crack!
Cam’s scream punched through Brooks’s consciousness as he tackled Nixon to the floor. The gun flew from his fingers. Brooks sat on top of him and delivered one brutal punch after another to his face. His head bounced off the floor with every blow.
“Raise your hands!”
Brooks swiveled away from the man under him. Tyler rested at the edge of the bed, feet away from Cam. The gun trained on Brooks’s head. The douchebag was as white as a sheet. A gray tinge circled his eyes, and sweat covered his face in a slick sheen. He cradled his arm across his waist. “Get the fuck up before I shoot her,” he huffed, his breath labored, swinging the gun to Cam. “Nixon, take him to the car.”
The man underneath Brooks shoved him in the chest and rolled out from under him. Brooks raised his hands. The gun stayed pointed at Cam, who was glowering at Tyler. Rough hands grabbed Brooks’s wrists, pinning them behind his back. Panic took hold. The memory of the oppressive isolation room that always waited for him after a stunt blasted into his head. His skin prickled with fresh fear. One look over his shoulder showed Nixon with zip ties in his hands. Swelling had already tinted the skin around the man’s eyes purple. The ties wouldn’t hold Brooks long, but what would the men do to Cam? If they took her back to the hospital, she’d be killed. Or Leonetti would use her in a morbid experiment.
That realization shook him. Tyler turned the gun on Brooks as Nixon situated a plastic strip around his wrist. He struggled to tie it. Brooks kept his eyes trained on the gunman. Catching movement in the corner of his eye, he froze.
Cam.
No.
She let out a howl and kicked Tyler in his injured arm. Tyler let out a wail. Cam scrambled for the gun. Ripping it from his fingers, she leaped to stand on the bed. “No one move! Brooks, get up!”
Brooks yanked out of the loose hold at his back and grabbed Nixon’s arm, sending him to the floor. Shoving Nixon’s face into the hotel carpet, Brooks fastened the zip tie around his wrists at his back. Then he sprang to his feet and crossed the room. Catching Tyler’s broken arm, he twisted it behind his back.
“You piece of shit!” Tyler screamed. Brooks yanked his arm again. Another holler followed. He zip-tied him too then pulled the pillowcases from the pillows and gagged both men. Finally, he brought his eyes to Cam. His chest heaved. Pain worked through his tendons. Every part of his body burned. She’d almost died. Because of him.
She lowered the gun and walked on the mattress until she reached the edge. He scooped his hands around her waist and set her down on the floor. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.” The smallness of her pupils told him her tension was through the roof. Her small hand circled his.
After taking the gun from her fingers, he shoved it in the waistband of his pants.
“They’re going to keep coming for us,” he said, his breath so hot it seared his tongue. But he’d injured the men badly enough that they wouldn’t be in any shape to chase him yet, and he’d kill every other person who came after him until he got ahold of Leonetti and stopped the hunt. Only then would he be free.
He caught Cam’s jaw in his palm. Blood rolled onto his thumb, making the leashed rage inside him come undone. “He cut you.”
“It happened when he tossed me on the bed.” Her tongue swept over her lip.
His heart pumped in his chest. He’d barely come down from the high he’d been strung along. He pulled his hand away from her face. His breath lay trapped in his throat as he fought to stay calm. He dragged his hand through his hair and turned around. Cam hovered beside him. Her hands were splayed over her belly as if to stop them from shaking.
He pulled her into a hug. Her body relaxed. The motion reminded him of a blow-up mattress deflating. He smoothed his hand down her spine. “I’m sorry.”
She pulled her head away from his chest. “What do you mean?”
“I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “We should get out of here before more come.”
She caught his shoulder, stilling him. His eyes moved over the planes of her face before locking on the serene depths of her irises. Even after everything that had gone down, she exuded a level of calm that struck him. If he could stare at her for hours, all the pain and devastation of the last several months would slip away from his psyche. When he looked in her eyes, he almost forgot the last eight months of his life, like he was no longer the damaged man he’d become. Her gaze moved effortlessly over his face, the concern he’d read on her brow the night he’d woken to find her in his room at the lab long gone. Now, she drank him in as if she’d been hiking in the desert and he was her first sighting of water.
If only he was normal. Horny? Hell, yeah. But not normal. Not when he couldn’t remember his past. Couldn’t remember what he’d done to warrant being locked away and tortured. And not when he was on the run from a group of power-tripping psychopaths in white coats who took pleasure in testing their radical drugs on non-consenting people.
It’d been a long time since he felt that he owed another person something. He owed it to Cam to make sure she walked away from this unscathed, as if she’d never met him.
And he’d ensure she got far away from him—ASAP.