by Zoe Chant
Another step. Another.
Half a block. Catalina felt like she was about to pass out. She could see nothing but a red haze.
“You’re strong,” he said quietly.
Hearing that from a PJ— hearing it from this man, in particular— gave her strength.
Another step.
He suddenly whipped his arm out like he was slapping something out of the air. The shift in weight nearly knocked her off her feet. As she staggered, trying to regain her balance, she saw some tiny object rolling across the sidewalk.
“Put me down and run!” he said sharply.
“No!” A pain like a needle jab pricked her arm. “Ow!”
Everything spun around her, and she hit the ground hard. Catalina couldn’t so much as twitch. When she tried to speak, she found that not even her lips would move. But now she was close enough to the ground to see the tiny object on the sidewalk: a tranquilizer dart. Another one was still embedded in her arm.
The PJ dragged himself on top of her and shielded her with his body.
“Last stand,” he muttered. “Funny how by the time it comes to that, you’re never actually standing.”
Then he glanced down at her open eyes. “Oh. Didn’t realize you were still conscious. Last stand for me, I mean. I’ll make sure it isn’t yours.”
He laid his palm down on her back. It was warm. Comforting.
Catalina’s vision kept blurring and the PJ was blocking her line of sight, but she could see some figures approaching them.
“The woman’s a civilian,” the PJ said. His voice carried on the still air, but his tone was calm as if he was having a perfectly normal conversation. “Just an ordinary good Samaritan. Leave her here. She doesn’t know anything. I didn’t even tell her my name.”
Another man’s voice spoke. If the PJ was cool, this man was ice cold. “We know. We’ve been observing from a distance. And we’ve seen some fascinating things. Her resistance to your power— her general lack of fear— her physical strength. We’re certainly not leaving her. She’s the perfect subject for 2.0.”
There was a brief silence. Then all the hazy figures flinched back. One let out a hoarse scream of sheer terror, then spun around and ran away. A moment later, two more followed him, stumbling and arms flailing, apparently caught in the grip of total panic.
The man with the cold voice spoke again. “I’m impressed. My operatives all underwent intensive fear-resistance training. However, I anticipated that you might get to some of them anyway. That’s why I brought as many men as I did. The three I have left should be more than enough to deal with one partially paralyzed, unarmed renegade.”
The PJ replied coolly, “Send them over, and we’ll see about that.”
“It would be interesting to see what you can manage in that state. However, in the interest of expediting this, I think I’ll just give you another dose.”
There was snap of fingers, then a faint whump of compressed air. Catalina felt the PJ whip around. His hand brushed against her shoulder as he yanked something from his side and threw it back. One of the figures yelped in pain. Then the PJ gave a long sigh and slumped down on top of her. His breathing was even and deep, his hair soft against her cheek.
The figures moved forward, coming closer and closer. Catalina blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. The name on the building in front of her swam into view. She’d collapsed right in front of Protection, Inc.
Too bad no one’s home, she thought dizzily. Right now, we could really use a bodyguard.
Everything went black.
Chapter Two
Shane
Even before he opened his eyes, Shane Garrity knew where he was. He knew by the slight chill in the air— the hum of the air conditioner— the government-issue thin mattress he lay on— and most of all the scent, the sterile cleanness of air stripped of all but a faint odor of antiseptic. He’d lived in that air. He’d dreamed of that air. The smell of it made his stomach turn.
He wondered what had happened to that gorgeous paramedic who had refused to leave him, then carried him over her shoulders for an entire city block. For a woman her size, it had been an amazing feat of strength. For anyone, it had been an amazing feat of heroism. He hoped to hell that Dr. Elihu had just been fucking with him when he’d said they’d take her too.
Shane almost opened his eyes to look for her, then forced himself to lie still, not betraying that he was awake. If they did have the paramedic, he’d rescue her along with himself. He’d escaped once. He could escape again. All he needed to do was gather information and wait for the perfect opportunity to make his move.
He assessed his physical condition. He had a splitting headache, thanks to the unholy combination of a recent concussion and a double dose of tranquilizers, and felt dizzy and slightly nauseated. The familiar pain of cracked ribs stabbed into his side every time he inhaled. But he didn’t seem to have any major injuries. He wasn’t at peak condition, but he could still fight.
He was covered with a blanket, so he risked tensing the muscles of his legs and feet. The paralysis was gone and he could feel that his panther was back, so the drugs had worn off. He could shift now— but they must know that. He wasn’t strapped down or chained up, which had to mean he was locked in.
Soft footsteps approached. He felt the body heat of someone leaning over him. A pair of fingers touched beneath his jaw, seeking for his pulse.
Shane grabbed the person’s wrist and twisted it behind their back. In an instant, they were face-down on the floor with him kneeling over them, holding both their arms in a joint-lock.
“Ow!”
Both her arms. She was face-down, but he didn’t need to see her face to recognize the paramedic. Her silky hair, small but sturdy body, and smooth skin were unmistakable. He’d have known her from touch alone.
He released her immediately. “Sorry. I thought you were an enemy.”
They were alone in one of those small rooms that he knew all too well. Two narrow cots. No other furniture. Sterile white walls. Sterile white light. One closed door leading out— that would be locked from the outside and reinforced with steel— and one open door leading to a tiny bathroom.
The paramedic scrambled up, her thick black hair swinging. “Sorry I startled you. I thought you were unconscious. I’ve been checking your vital signs every ten minutes since I woke up myself.”
“I know—” Shane began. Then she lifted her head, and their eyes met.
She’s the one, hissed his panther.
Shane felt like he’d leaped out of a plane and forgotten to put on his parachute. He was in free-fall, his heart slamming into his chest with a mixture of exhilaration and dread.
He had no doubt that his panther was right. The brave paramedic was his mate. It seemed impossible that he hadn’t realized it before. Sure, he’d been drugged then, his panther suppressed. But he still should have known. Of course this fearless woman was his mate. She was what he used to be— someone who’d lay down their life to rescue a stranger, without so much as a second thought. What other woman could he possibly love?
My mate, he thought again, lost in wonder.
This woman was his mate, and he hadn’t even thought he had one. She was the other half of his soul, and he hadn’t thought he had a soul any more, either. He loved her, and he didn’t even know her name. If he lost her, it would break him in a way he’d never believed he could be broken.
For the briefest of moments, he was happier than he’d been in years— happier than he’d been in his entire life. His mate was with him at last. It felt so right.
Then fear took over.
He’d spent ten years parachuting into combat zones, and his mate was in the closest place to Hell that he’d ever known.
“She’s the perfect subject for 2.0,” Dr. Elihu had said.
If Apex went through with that, they’d destroy his beautiful, heroic mate.
He had to protect her, but the last time he’d been here, he’d failed to protec
t anyone.
It was only because of him that she was here at all.
And if he revealed what she meant to him, it would be used against them both. The only way to protect her was to pretend that he didn’t care about her.
Shane didn’t let emotions get the better of him. He scared other people. Nothing scared him. He fought back against an intensity of love and terror that threatened to overwhelm him, ruthlessly crushing the feelings that would do nothing but compromise his combat fitness.
But the more he suppressed his emotions, the worse he felt physically. A stab of pain went right through his chest, like he’d been shot in the heart. Agony spiked through his head with every throb of his pulse. He broke out in a cold sweat. The room tilted around him, then started to blur.
“Put your head between your knees.” A familiar pair of gentle but strong hands pushed him into position. “Take a deep breath. Okay, good. Now take another. Good. Keep going.”
Shane breathed deeply until the dizziness faded and the pain eased.
Keep calm, he told himself. You can’t protect her if you’re not fit yourself.
When he was certain his voice would be steady, he said, “Sorry. Tranquilizers and concussions are a bad mix.”
Her fingers were on his throat again. This time he let her take his pulse. “You should lie down again.”
“Nah. I’d rather sit.” He raised his head.
This time he got a better look at her. He’d been attracted to her when he’d first seen her, even before he’d known she was his mate. But back then he’d had to focus on immediate survival. This time he had a chance to drink her in.
She was short but not slim, with a body made up of soft curves and strong muscle. Her breasts swelled against her T-shirt and her upper arms stretched out the sleeves. He knew exactly how good she felt, pillowy in some places and resilient in others, because he’d had his arm around her shoulders and his body pressed against hers. He longed to reach out and put his arm around her again...
Stop that, he told himself. Touch her in here, and you might as well put a gun to her head.
Still, there was no harm in looking. Her hair was black as night and sleek as satin, cut to chin-length. It had slid across his skin like water when she’d lifted him. Her skin was smooth and brown, her eyes a deeper brown with golden highlights. He couldn’t help smiling as he looked at her, from her rosy lips to her luscious body to her very decided chin.
Her gaze followed his, and he knew she’d spotted him checking her out. With the hint of laughter trembling in her voice, she said, “You must be feeling better. Take off your shirt.”
He wanted to keep that amused look on her face a little longer, so he joked, “That’s sudden. Normally women at least want to know my name first.”
“Normally I don’t go to strange places with strange men I met in dark alleys,” she replied, playing along. Then the joking fell away. He already knew how brave she was, so it made a different kind of pain go through his chest at the quick flash of fear he saw in her eyes as she spoke. “Can you tell me what’s going on? Who are these people? Why are they after you? Why did they kidnap me? What’s 2.0?”
Shane took another deep breath. He had to tell her something, but he couldn’t tell her everything. The entire story wasn’t necessary, and would only frighten her more.
Liar, his panther hissed. You don’t want to tell her because you don’t want her to know.
Shane ignored the beast inside of him. “First, I want you to promise me something. I’ve been here before. I know how these people work. I can get you out of here, but you have to promise to do exactly what I say. If I wake you up in the middle of the night and tell you to run, you don’t ask me what’s going on or look for your shoes. You just run.”
“So you’re telling me I should sleep with my shoes on.” She spoke lightly, but he could see that she was giving his request serious consideration.
“That might not be a bad idea. Do you promise?”
In the heartbeat it took her to respond, he wished he could rewind the last few minutes and do everything differently. He’d done nothing to inspire confidence, and everything to seem frightening and dangerous. How could she trust him when she didn’t even know who he was?
How could she trust him if he told her what he was?
“I promise,” she said.
He could hear in her voice that she didn’t make promises she didn’t intend to keep. His heart lifted with relief. “Okay. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now I’m going to give you an order.” She jerked her thumb at him. “Your shirt. Off.”
Shane grasped the hem of his T-shirt, then stopped. “How are you feeling? You were tranquilized too.”
She gave a flip of her hand, brushing off the question. “Fine. Seriously. I only got one dose. You had two. Also, I didn’t get hit over the head. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“All right. I’ll tell you while you examine me.” Shane pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. “What’s your name?”
“Catalina Mendez.”
That sounded familiar. He rummaged through his mind, trying to place it, and then thought, Catalina the paramedic. Catalina whose phone didn’t work in America.
“Ellie McNeil’s friend?” Shane asked.
“Yes!” Catalina exclaimed. “How do you know her?”
“I’m Shane Garrity. I work with her—” Her mate. “Her boyfriend, Hal Brennan.”
“Shane the hot bodyguard?” Catalina blurted out, then clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just said that. I’m— Uh— I blame the tranquilizers. People think sedatives just sedate you, but sometimes they make you babble. Obviously.”
Shane didn’t bother pointing out that the tranquilizer had long since worn off. “Ellie called me ‘the hot bodyguard?’”
“Not you in particular,” Catalina said indignantly, as if defending her friend’s honor. “She said all the bodyguards were hot, except for the girls— I mean, probably the girls are hot too, she never said they weren’t, but since she was telling me and I’m only into guys, she didn’t mention whether they were hot or not.”
“The girls are hot,” Shane said. It wasn’t something he thought about much—Destiny and Fiona were like sisters to him. But Catalina was adorable when she got wound up, so he couldn’t resist winding her up a little more.
Catalina’s cheeks darkened in an intense blush. “Good to know. Now please pretend we didn’t just have this conversation. Tell me where it hurts.”
She felt all over his belly and sides, while he shook his head. Then she prodded him in the ribcage, right where the worst pain was.
Shane winced. “There.”
Now she was back to business. The blush faded. “Does it hurt when you take a deep breath?”
“Yes.”
“Can you take a deep breath, even though it hurts?”
Shane demonstrated. “Yes.”
“Can you taste blood in your mouth?”
“No.”
She prodded his chest some more. “I don’t have a stethoscope, so this’ll have to be old school. Breathe deeply.”
Catalina pressed her ear to his chest. Shane forgot to breathe. There she was, with her head against his bare chest and her silky hair touching his skin. If they’d been lying down together, after making love or about to fall asleep, she might rest her head on his chest like that...
She cleared her throat. “Breathe. Hot bodyguard.”
He was startled into a laugh. “Ow.”
“Did that hurt?”
“Yeah.” He breathed until she lifted her head, satisfied.
“Your lungs sound fine,” she announced. “Your heart rate’s good. You’ve got three cracked ribs. That is, I think they’re just cracked, not broken. I couldn’t say for sure without x-rays.”
“I think so too. Though they might’ve been broken when you found me.” Once the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back. H
e hadn’t meant to hint around like that, but there was something about her that made him reluctant to hide things from her. That made him blurt out the truth whether he’d planned to or not.
He couldn’t tell whether it was because she was his mate or because she was so forthright herself. Either way, it made him uncomfortable. He had a lot that he needed to hide. Especially from his mate.
“What?” She shook her head. “No, they can’t have been. Broken ribs take weeks to heal. You haven’t been here that long, Sleeping Beauty.”
“I liked Hot Bodyguard better.”
She poked him again, thankfully in the shoulder this time.
“That didn’t hurt,” Shane said helpfully.
“Stop being evasive,” she said. “We’re locked up in a tiny room, there’s nowhere to hide. What did you mean, they might have been broken when I found you?”
“Aren’t you going to examine my head? I could have a skull fracture.”
“Nah, I think your skull’s too thick to break.” More seriously, she said, “Sure, I’ll take a look. But your pupils are equal, you’re not disoriented, and you’re not throwing up or passing out. The cut looked shallow, and it’s not bleeding any more. I’d be surprised if you had a fracture. Also, you’re still dodging my question.”
“No. I’m answering it.” He turned his head, presenting her with the bloody side. “Look at the cut on my head. Really look at it. You might have to clean off the blood.”
Their eyes met. He could see that she knew she was on the brink of learning something important and dangerous.
“Okay.” She got up and walked to the bathroom.
Since her back was turned, Shane took the opportunity to check out the swing of her wide hips and the peach-like outline of her ass. His mate was perfect from every angle, and even more beautiful in motion than sitting still.
Catalina returned with a wet washcloth. She sat down beside him and rubbed at the place where he’d been cut. The water was warm and her hands were gentle, and it would have felt good if he didn’t know what was coming. He knew what she saw— a mostly-healed cut, looking like it had been inflicted days rather than hours ago— when the motion of her hands stopped.
