Chapter 8
EIGHT
Levi
I feel the slither of guilt up my spine as I slip the needle out of her arm, smoothing the Band-Aid over the pinprick-size wound. I need her out while I finish off what we started. She’s given me no other choice.
I watch her breathing for a few moments, the rise and fall of her chest, before I finish gathering the bag of things I collected from around her room.
A phone under the mattress, an old journal tucked in her desk, a smattering of paperwork, and personal items like her passport.
I don’t bother with her clothes or shoes.
I make her bed, and I straighten the room.
I put out the coals in the metal container she lit to torture me with, disinfect the implement she used to burn me, and put everything back the way I remember it being on the desk.
I tried to make mental notes of it while she worked, but the fog of whatever drug she used on me still hangs heavy.
I need them to think she’s around here somewhere for as long as possible.
The more time we have, the more likely it is that we get away.
I check her again, holding my hand in front of her lips when I don’t immediately see her chest move.
She’s still breathing. It’s shallow and slow.
The injection I gave her will do that. I just hope it doesn’t interact with whatever else she’s had.
The search of her room didn’t turn up any more of it.
I run my knuckles down her cheek, and her lashes flutter in response, like she might open them.
I doubt I’ll ever see the blues of her eyes light up when she smiles at me or hear her melodic laugh again.
It’s a shame. I’d grown fond of both. But I don’t have time to ponder the things that might have been, only time to act on the now.
And right now, I have an ever-narrowing window of time to get her to the airport.
It’s a dreary night on the private tarmac just outside of Munich.
The lights scatter across the small pools of water, and the rain has slowed to a mist as I pull up in front of the industrial garage and put the car in park.
I hop out, grateful to see that Rowan’s already here and waiting as he leans against the doorframe.
The faster we get out of here, the better.
“Well fuck,” Rowan mutters as he approaches the car.
“Fuck indeed,” I grouch back as I round the front to open her door. She’s still out cold, but she’s started to move more, and the faster we get her on the plane, the better. This whole plan has gone to hell.
“You need help?” Rowan’s brow furrows as he looks down at the redheaded bundle in the back of the car.
“I’ve got her.” I lean down and pull her out, careful to guard her head as I navigate the car door.
I don’t want anyone else holding her right now, not when she’s this vulnerable.
I've frightened her enough tonight. I don't need her waking up in a stranger’s arms. Though she might prefer it once she remembers what I’ve done.
“She out cold?” He surveys her as she hangs limply in my arms, her head lulling against my chest with each step.
“Yeah.”
“What did you use on her?” The furrow in his forehead deepens.
“Midazolam. But she has something else in her system too.”
“What?” He’s very interested in all the details. Rowan likes to be in full control of a situation like this. I’ve put him on edge with my sudden need for a late-night extraction when he was already on a job for Charlotte.
“No idea. Whatever she used on me. Left me a little groggy but functional. She put it in a drink she gave me,” I explain as he motions for us to walk toward the front of the building.
I can see the wings of his, or rather Hudson’s, private jet sticking out past the walls in the distance and feel a keen sense of relief.
I was sure I was going to see the inside of a German police station tonight.
“She used it on you?” His interest is piqued, and I hear the thread of amusement.
“She drugged me so she could question me. It didn't go well for her, considering she gave me exactly what I needed to get her out of there,” I explain in a clipped tone. I’m embarrassed for myself, but there’s a part of me that’s proud of her.
The way she figured me out and tried to take control back instead of just running scared to the abbess or her father was impressive.
“Well, at least she was good for something.” His biting humor cuts through the wee hour.
“She’s surprisingly resourceful.” My eyes linger on her face for too long before I meet Rowan’s again, and I see a flash of disapproval.
“Father’s daughter, I imagine.” Rowan’s eyes flick over her in a quick assessment and dismissal, and then he nods for me to climb the stairs first.
I pull her closer to me, making sure she doesn’t get inadvertently bumped or bruised on the way up the narrow staircase.
I glance up as a plane thunders overhead when it takes its ascent.
It'll be us soon. A few more steps and we’re inside—safely ensconced from the weather and from the questioning of the German police.
The relief lets the adrenaline surging through my body slow to a dull roar.
The flight attendant doesn’t say a word about the fact that I’m carrying an unconscious woman who’s bound in the same macramé-style cords she used on me.
I deposit her in one of the plush private seats and buckle her in.
“How quickly can we take off?” I look between Rowan and the flight attendant, hoping for a positive answer. I forget her name, even though we’ve been introduced before. She was pleasant enough but all business, just like Charlotte. I imagine she was handpicked for that purpose.
“Now?” Rowan gives her a questioning look, and she nods.
“I’ll let the pilot know you’re ready. If you’ll be seated, please.” She motions to both of us.
“Thank you.” I look at Rowan as we buckle in. “I know you had other plans for the evening.”
“Nothing as important as this.”
“I hope Charlotte’s not furious.”
Speaking of the devil, I’d rather not be on her bad side. Upsetting any of her business plans or one of her men is the fastest way to get there. He smirks and glances out the window as the pilot turns our overhead lights low.
“She can be fun when she’s angry.” It’s the only answer I get. At least one of us is excited about it. I’d have her and my brother to deal with when I get back.
“Well, maybe she can have a talk with our new friend. Because she takes the fun a little too far when she’s pissed,” I grumble as the seatbelt brushes over the burn.
“She get you?” He looks at me with concern.
“Burned me.” I move the seatbelt aside and lift my shirt to expose the fresh wound. “With one of those things they sprinkle holy water with.”
Rowan inspects it, tilting his head and pressing his lips together like he’s impressed by her handiwork. If he told me he's done the same once, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Nice pattern at least. Might scar well.”
I level him with a deadpan look, and he lets out a low chuckle.
“Just trying to find a silver lining.” His brow lifts. “She get your lip too?” He motions to his own, and I mimic it, brushing the pads of my fingers over the spot where she sunk her teeth in. It’s still tender.
“She bit me.” Probably because I was kissing her right after I poisoned her, but I can leave that tidbit of information out of our discussion. I still don’t know why the fuck I did it.
“Burning and biting? Quite the vicious little thing, isn’t she?” Rowan’s wildly amused now.
“Something like that.” My mind’s drifting to the way she looked at me when she told me she hated me. I knew it was coming, and it still cut deeper than expected.
“There’s a first aid kit in the back. Once we’re at altitude, you can use it to get cleaned up. There’s a shower too if you need it.” He looks me over thoughtfully, scrutinizing my appearance and my mood. I have to be careful around him. He reads everything, every movement, every inflection.
“As long as I can get these wounds treated, it’ll be fine,” I mumble, tucking my shirt gently back into place. Hopefully, I can avoid an infection.
“She useful, you think?” He looks at the redhead sitting behind me.
“She definitely has information. I grabbed her burner phone on the way out.” I pull it out from my pocket and hold it up for his review.
“Not the regular one?” He frowns.
“No. It’s at the bottom of the lake. Right along with mine. That’s why I contacted you on the other line I had.” I sigh and shove it back into my pocket. I can’t win tonight, and I’m too tired to defend myself.
“I see. Any particular reason for that?” Rowan’s face is a mix of emotions he’s trying to suppress.
“She fell in. I jumped after her.”
“Do I want to ask?” Rowan shifts in his seat and loses his battle with the growing smirk. At least he’s momentarily distracted from his suspicion.
“It’s a long fucking story. The whole night is—which is why we’re here.” I make it clear I don’t feel like getting into the details. I’m too tired and groggy to weave the white lies right now, and even though he’s an excellent partner in things like this, I don’t want him having my full hand.
“Hudson and Grant are unlikely to be happy that we aborted your undercover gig.” He states the obvious, frustrated by my unwillingness to cooperate with his interrogation.
“They’ll be happy enough when they see her.” Grant will understand, and Hudson’s reasonable enough. If I lay out the facts for them, they’ll see I didn’t have a choice. But Rowan’s right that it complicates everything.
“Maybe. But now they’ll be up against it. They’ll have to decide whether to kill her or keep her.” Rowan looks over her like an accountant assessing a balance sheet. She’s of no more value than what she gives us to him. It’s likely to be the same for Grant and Hudson, and it’s a sobering thought.
“We’re keeping her,” I snap without thinking, and Rowan’s brow climbs as his eyes rake downward over me in evaluation.
“Don’t tell me you’ve developed a soft spot for her. They’ll like that even less.”
“Far from it. But she’s my problem, and I’ll decide how it gets resolved.” It’s a lie. I know it for certain as soon as I deny her.
“Well…” He shrugs one shoulder, and we both glance out the window as the plane accelerates. “I’ll let you fight that one out for yourself.”