Chapter 20
It wasn’t the lobby. It was a short hall with blank doors on either side and the double glass numbers giving out onto the front parking lot. Brew and Yoshi should be gone by now. Going to have to steal a car.
As if the thought had summoned them, a black SUV glide to a stop outside the glass doors, streetlamp shine sliding wetly off its paint.
I am going to court-martial both of them.
He dragged Rowan along. Thankfully, she had passed out.
He wasn’t sure if he could stand feeling the agonizing pain beating inside her skull—or the sense of violation.
Carson had damn near raped her mind, smashing in to take control, to break her the way he’d broken plenty of other psions.
It was ironic in the extreme that if she hadn’t been so goddamn gifted the blind man would’ve had a harder time.
He wasn’t so effective when it came to precogs or telekinetics, but other telepaths and empaths were critically vulnerable to the Tracker.
He hurt her. Rage rose; Del smothered it. He couldn’t afford to get angry and lose his focus.
The SUV’s back driver’s-side door opened smoothly. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, manhandling Rowan into the car. Yoshi leaned over on the passenger side and helped as much as he could, pulling her to safety. Then Del was in, sucking at a deep breath that hurt all the way down.
The stiletto hit deep. Hope it didn’t scratch a lung. No, I’d be having more trouble breathing if it did.
Yoshi’s dark gaze met his as Brew pressed the accelerator. Pavement slid under broad tires.
“You look awful.” Yoshi offered a was of wet-wipes. “What happened?”
“Carson.” Del rubbed at his face, wiping away blood. The scalp wound itched hard. “Got to Ro somehow. I put his goddamn psychopath down and hit the blind man with everything I had. Hope it was enough. Goddammit, Brew, can’t you go any faster?”
“If you want to be arrested, I can.” Brew, used to post-combat jitters, didn’t take offense.
Yoshi, still leaning over the front seat, watched Delgado.
Then his dark, eloquent gaze shifted to Rowan, slumped against a pile of hurriedly-stacked gear.
Her pale hair had shaken loose, glowing in the faint light.
It was the darkest part of early morning, the time when old men died.
One old man died tonight, I hope. If he recovers from that push he’ll…
No, he won’t. I sank a knife in his throat, he can’t have survived that.
Please tell me I’ve killed the two men that nearly killed me the first time I escaped.
Have I gotten better or have they gotten worse?
Hard to get worse than dead. Please let them be fucking dead.
Yoshi continued to study Rowan. Jealousy rose sharp and vicious; Del took a deep breath.
“She is a very dear friend,” Yoshi said suddenly, clearly. “But no more than a friend.”
Oh, Christ. Del leaned over, finding the seatbelt, strapping Rowan in. She wasn’t physically hurt but he needed to check, to run his fingers over her, to make sure.
“Not like it matters.” His cheeks felt hot. Was he fucking blushing? He hoped not; it was too dark to tell, thank God. You probably deserve her more than me anyway.
“It matters,” Yoshi persisted. “She’s very attached to you, Del.”
“Leave him alone, mate. He’s had a hard night.” Brew suppressed a chuckle, his crisp British accent blurring.
Don’t they realize we’re possibly in the middle of a Sig net?
Carson and what’s-his-face weren’t working alone, were they?
Then again, the Tracker worked alone the first time he found me.
And Ro didn’t sense any Sigs. Then again, with Carson there, they might have been under dampers and he could technically keep a small team under wraps, he’s talented enough…
Dammit, Del, keep your goddamn mind on business.
Now’s not the time to be debriefing, now’s the time to clean yourself up and make sure you can fight again if you have to.
Get your team to capacity before unraveling the rest of it.
“Is there a medkit back here?” He swiped at his face again, cleaning off even more blood.
“You bet there is. Look under her elbow.”
For some reason, Brew seemed to find this incredibly funny. At least he shook with mostly repressed mirth, though the car didn’t waver on the road.
Del worked the medkit from under Rowan’s slack form.
She was out cold. Now that he had a chance to breathe, his shoulder wrenched with hot, drilling pain.
He probably had almost dislocated it, and the knife hadn’t helped any.
Neither had the shot to the face, and that little Japanese snot had probably cracked a rib.
Lucky it wasn’t his spleen. His back hurt, too. The shot to his kidneys.
He realized he hadn’t been thinking about Zed withdrawal for the last half-hour. Instead, he’d been concentrating solely on getting Rowan out of a dicey situation. He hadn’t bothered to mull on his own survival.
Yoshi slid back into his seat, punched Brew lightly on the shoulder, a rare gesture of camaraderie. Brew said something too low to be heard over the soughing of tires as they turned onto the main drag. Lights flashed red and blue in the distance.
Police lights.
Brew obeyed the speed limit, took the freeway ramp. Del kept watch out the back window, his hand on Rowan’s knee, reassuring himself that she was still alive. He caught no hint of pursuit. Finally, he let out the long breath he seemed to have been holding since realizing the stairwell was trapped.
Rowan made a small sleepy sound. Del glanced at her, his heart finally beginning to slow down.
His lungs didn’t hurt quite so much now.
She wasn’t overly marked, just had a nosebleed and a slight scratch on her scalp as well as a bruised wrist. He spread antiseptic over the scalp-cut and wiped the blood away, checked her again.
Pulse strong, her breathing even. The best thing for her right now was rest. Her violated psyche needed a little oblivion to distance itself from Carson’s filthy touch.
He managed to bandage himself and changed his shirt in the back seat, wincing, hoping his ribs weren’t truly cracked.
Then again, hanging around her will heal me up in no time. He swallowed the sick, acid taste of fear. Just rest, angel. I’ll take care of everything.
“How did they find us?” Brew apparently felt safe enough to start debrief. “What should we do? Henderson needs to know about this.”
“Goddamn Carson.” Del coughed, considered spitting out the window. How did he get so goddamn close? “Think he triggered the cops to flush us out?”
“We were clean. You were clean when you came to the house.” Yoshi stared straight ahead out the windshield. “I scanned you and every inch of gear you brought in. Maybe they caught some chatter or codestringing. Damn it.”
Del was about to reply, but a horrible thought froze him solid. The bag with the Zed. Maybe the last hypo had a tracker, or the bag itself. My God. I could have led Sigma straight to them.
He didn’t know for sure, but it was a damn good guess, and felt right to his gut. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, harshly. “We got out of there and Rowan’s safe. We’ll be cautious and go radio-silent for a while.”
Brew accepted, with a nod. “Glad you’re here, Del. I wouldn’t want to take on Carson alone.”
If the old man hadn’t been so occupied with Rowan, I would have been dead in the water. She was vulnerable, but put up a hell of a good fight. Delgado shivered. Now was not the time to think about what could have happened.
“Glad I was here too.” He settled back in the seat, watching Rowan’s breathing. “Let’s just hope I hurt them bad enough.”
Rowan stayed in a soupy, half-conscious daze for a good three days.
They reached the new headquarters thirty-six hours after the attack; Del half-carried her into the main house.
He had to admit, Henderson had outdone himself this time.
The new base for the Society was a former Catholic school and seminary, perched outside a pair of cities glaring at each other over a river and a state line.
They were close enough to the urban sprawl that the static of so many deadheads provided camouflage, yet far enough and with considerable grounds attached to the old school to give them some privacy, plenty of escape routes and room for expansion.
It was just about perfect, especially since the property was adjacent to an old, defunct gravel pit.
They’d already started the excavations which would eventually make an underground complex as well, but it would take a good five years or so before they had anything like the extensive transports and other advantages of the last Headquarters.
The gravel pit would provide them with the perfect means to get construction equipment—and get rid of the excavation debris.
Concrete and crushed rock could be sold, the legitimate business used as a front.
He didn’t see much for the first day and a half.
After dumping Rowan on a bed in the room Henderson had shown him, he’d made sure their bags were in a pile, thrown a sleeping bag down in front of the door, and collapsed, leaving Brew and Yoshi to make their reports without him.
Henderson wisely left him alone, maybe realizing Del was on the fine edge.
He slept deeply, waking only once to stumble to the bathroom as swords of summer sunlight poked through the gap between navy curtains, lay along the blue-carpeted floor.
When he emerged, clumsy with weariness, he instinctively crawled into the bed next to Rowan, past caring about guarding the door or giving her space.
Fully clothed save for his boots, he pulled the sheet and blankets up, and curled around her.
She was on her side, her back to him, and he immediately fell asleep once more. It was dangerous to pass out so completely, but he didn’t have a choice. There was a limit to even Sigma-trained endurance.