by Jaye McKenna
“Figured as much. I suppose it’s too much to hope you have some on hand.” Cam wasn’t relishing the idea of having to hit the streets to buy the stuff, though he already knew he’d do if he had to. He’d promised Miko he’d help, and Cam didn’t break promises if he could help it.
But Draven rasped, “Backpack.”
A glance around the room revealed a backpack lying at the foot of the bed. It contained a few changes of clothing and two plastic bags full of needlepaks. It looked like a good supply, but whether or not it was depended on how far into addiction Draven had fallen. Pretty far, from the look of him.
Cam fished out a needlepak and tore the wrapping off. The vein was easy enough to find, so Draven’s addiction must be a relatively recent development. As he pressed the needle into the vein, he glanced at the clock on the bedside table. He knew exactly how long it would take for the riptide to turn Draven’s muscles to liquid and shut out the noise in his head.
“There’s a lot here,” Cam said. “How did you get it past customs?”
“Didn’t.”
“Ah. And you’re positive no one’s going to be coming after you?”
“I… took care of it.”
“You killed the guy who stabbed you,” Cam guessed. “A dealer?” At Draven’s slight nod, he added, “You sure he’s dead?”
“Better be. Broke his neck.”
“What about your boss? Is he going to be looking?”
“Not… not yet.”
Knowing Draven was probably still on the Romani family’s payroll, Cam was itching to be gone from here, but he wasn’t about to wrestle a screaming man down the long hallway to the elevator. That might draw more attention than he wanted. Twenty minutes, and the riptide would be working enough for Draven to walk out of here. Maybe not unassisted, but hopefully without a lot of fuss and noise.
Draven squeezed his eyes shut. His breath was coming in ragged pants now. “Hurts.”
“Hang in there. I’ve got a place ready for you to hole up in for a while. Pain meds and antibiotics, too. I’ll do what I can to get you fixed up.” Which wasn’t going to be nearly as much as Draven needed. What he ought to be doing was getting him to a doctor.
Or a healer.
He shoved the thought away the moment it rose to the surface of his mind. No. He couldn’t involve Eleni in this. Bad enough that he was involved. The Command Council would feed him his own balls if anyone found out what he was doing.
Right on time, the tension melted out of Draven’s body, and his amber eyes fluttered open and fixed on Cam. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I knew you’d come. Your mind… has that kind of shape.”
Cam froze. He didn’t have to ask how Draven knew. Draven had been inside his head back on Alpha, knew him in ways no one else ever could. Knew him right down to the depths of his soul… and could still look him in the eye, had still trusted him enough to put his life in Cam’s hands.
As if reading his mind — which was impossible, given the amount of riptide Cam had just injected into his bloodstream — Draven murmured, “I know all your secrets, Asada.”
“Yeah, maybe you do, at that. But you still came to me for help.”
“Well. I know… all your regrets… too.”
Chapter Two
Draven woke with a start and froze. Nothing he saw made sense. He was in the passenger seat of a small flyer, and the view through the windshield in front of him was a blur of white.
Front seat reclined…
Cameron in the pilot’s seat next to him…
Pain, God, so much pain… his belly throbbed and burned, and his head felt like it was on fire.
How had he gotten here? He focused on the swirling snow outside and hunted for his last coherent memory. His stomach churned as he flashed on Cameron’s hand covering his mouth, his voice cold and terse as he ordered Draven not to scream.
As if Draven would ever give anyone the pleasure.
You gave DeMira the pleasure. And Vorzana.
Yes. Yes, he had. And they’d both died for it. At least, he hoped they had. He hadn’t counted on the riptide knocking him senseless for so long. Hadn’t done the research he should have on riptide addiction.
Maybe because he hadn’t wanted to know.
Sloppy. He never left anything to chance when he was on a job, and the fact that he had this time — even though it hadn’t technically been a job — was worrying. He was losing his edge, and that was going to get him dead if he wasn’t careful.
Assuming he wasn’t already dead.
The flyer lurched as a gust of wind caught it. Cameron fought the controls, swearing under his breath. A sharp cramp gripped Draven’s belly and he let out a low groan.
“Hey.” Cameron’s voice came from beside him, taut and sharp. “You awake?”
He couldn’t answer, not right away. The mental noise from the city crashed through his head like a slow-motion avalanche. It left him shaking and sweating, tears stinging his eyes.
“Draven?”
“Fuck…” he managed to spit out.
“How the hell much riptide have you been taking? That needlepak should have lasted at least a few more hours.”
“Too… fucking… much,” he gasped, fingers tightening on the armrest.
“Can you inject yourself?”
“I… yes.”
“Hold out your hand.” Cameron fumbled in his pocket, one hand on the control stick, eyes glued to the instrument panel. He tore open the wrapping with his teeth and dropped the needlepak into Draven’s shaking hand. His fingers were cold as they brushed across Draven’s palm, despite the heater blowing hot air into the flyer’s tiny cabin.
Draven closed his fingers over the needlepak as he considered the logistics of getting his arm free. It was easier than he expected; instead of trying to bundle him into a coat, Cameron had covered him with a heavy quilt. Smart. There was no way he’d be able to wrestle free of a winter jacket, even if he had one. Under the quilt, he wore a T-shirt, which made it easy to inject himself. The needle stung as it punctured his skin. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain to recede.
“Should get better soon,” Cameron said. “We’re well out of the city, though we’re not as far away as I’d like. I was hoping we’d be there by now, but this weather is shit, and it’s getting worse.”
“Where…?” Draven opened his eyes, and in the dim light of the instrument panel, he could just make out the intense, focused expression on Cameron’s pale face.
“Hunting lodge. Belongs to my dad. It’s out in the middle of nowhere. Hasn’t been used in years, so I’m not worried about anyone finding us there, especially not in this weather. It’ll give us a breather, time to regroup, figure out what we’re going to do.” Not taking his eyes off the control boards, Cameron reached down into the space between them and handed Draven a water bottle. “Drink this.”
“Got anything… for pain?”
“Nothing here, no. Everything we need is at the lodge. Sit tight. We’ll be there soon.”
Not soon enough for Draven. He let the bottle fall to the floor, clenched his teeth against the tearing, burning pain, and tried his best to slip back into blissful oblivion.
* * *
Cam staggered through the snow, dragging Draven along with him by sheer force of will. Big, fluffy flakes drifted down from the sky, and on top of what they’d had earlier in the week, it was already knee deep. The news net was predicting at least two more days of snow, possibly three.
Not good.
He’d brought the flyer down in a clearing a short walk from the lodge, but with the wind and the snow and Draven leaning heavily against him, the short walk had become an extended struggle. Snow drifts completely covered the path he’d cleared a few days ago, and he was freezing. He’d bundled Draven into his parka before hauling him out of the flyer, figuring he could manage in just a sweatshirt. But the wind was fierce, and it wasn’t long before Cam was chilled through and starting to wish he’d grabbed the quilt to throw over his
shoulders.
Beside him, Draven fought to stay on his feet, breath coming in harsh gasps, punctuated by the occasional hiss when one or the other of them slipped. Cam managed to keep them from going down, but between the knife wound and the withdrawal symptoms, every movement had to be agonizing for Draven.
The lodge wasn’t visible from the clearing, but Cam knew exactly where it was. When he’d first come to Aurora, he’d spent months out here, alone and with his foster father, Angus McKinnon, learning the shape of his own thoughts and figuring out what he wanted out of life. In the process, he’d learned every contour of the landscape, every tree and every rock, both in the height of summer and the dead of winter.
Even so, he breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw the dark shape of the lodge through the swirling snow.
“Almost there,” he said to Draven. “Once we get inside, you can lie down.”
Draven didn’t answer, but his teeth were chattering, and he was shivering even through the heavy coat. At the door, Cam fished the old metal key out of his pocket and fit it into the lock. The moment the door was unlocked, he shoved it open, and they staggered inside. The place was so small, he didn’t need light to guide Draven to the double bed tucked into the far corner.
Once he had Draven on the bed — still wearing Cam’s parka, since the lodge wasn’t much warmer than the air outside — Cam turned on the battery-powered camping lantern he’d left on the table. The lodge’s single room was small enough that the soft, golden glow reached even the farthest corners.
“Lodge?” Draven’s voice was hoarse and gravelly. “I suppose… it was too much… to hope for room service… and a hot bath.”
Cam flashed him a tight grin. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck, there.”
Draven’s gaze traveled over the room, coming to rest on the wood-burning stove near the door. “Settle for… hot fire. You know… how to light that thing?”
“Yeah. Used to hunt out here with my dad and my brothers. Even summer nights get cold this far north.” Cam reached up to the shelf above the stove and found the matches right where he’d left them.
While he got the fire going, he considered how much of a pain in the ass this was going to be. Miko had said Draven would be hurting, so he’d stocked first-aid supplies, but he hadn’t really thought through the logistics of caring for an injured man under conditions this primitive. There was no electricity, no hot water, and the cold water had to be pumped into the sink by hand. The outhouse, while attached to the lodge and accessible through the back door, was uninsulated.
Yeah. This was going to be a ton of fun.
By the time the fire was roaring away, Draven had fallen into a restless sleep. Cam set a pan of water to boil on top of the woodstove, then moved the lantern over to the shelf above the headboard and eased Draven out of the parka. The clean T-shirt he’d wrestled him into at the hotel was already soaked through with blood and sweat. He didn’t bother to try to save it. Cutting it off was easier, and he could pick up more clothing from the Institute’s supply store when the weather cleared enough for him to make a run to the campus. Hopefully, by then, Draven would be stable enough to leave alone for a few hours.
Cam cleaned and dressed the wound again, then dug through the small cache of medical supplies he’d had Miko divert from the infirmary. He fitted a broad-spectrum antibiotic cartridge into the injector and gave Draven a shot.
Through all his ministrations, Draven never stirred.
When he’d done all he could, he covered Draven with a couple of blankets, then parked himself at the table to check his phone. Of the dozen or so messages that had come in while he’d been gone, only two were of any importance: one from Eleni reminding him to get to bed at a decent time — his mouth curved in a wry smile as he glanced at the clock hanging above the table — and one from Neil, letting him know about a vid-conference first thing in the morning, just a few hours from now.
There was nothing from Kyn, who’d promised to call when he’d heard from Pat. Cam debated calling him, but decided it was too late. He was just pocketing the phone when it buzzed with a call from Kyn.
“Cam here.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Pat just got home.” Kyn sounded tense. “Weather’s shit. He said he almost turned around and went back, but he didn’t want to spend the next few days stranded in the city.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. I’ve been out in it.”
“Out where?”
“Never mind that now. What did you get from Pat? Neil’s message was hardly illuminating.”
“That video is the real thing,” Kyn said in a grim voice. “It came from the mining base on Aion. Tri-Mech’s disaster recovery team found it when they started sifting through the wreckage looking for surveillance equipment. It was supposed to be classified, but… well. Corporate security being what it is… Anyway, the vid sparked riots in Paris and New London when it hit the Alpha News Net. People want something done. The Federation Senate has called an emergency session. Pat said his father was at the Command Council meeting tonight, and he was planning to depart for Earth immediately. He’s taking Tarrin with him, and possibly Nick and Vaya, too. Neil’s planning to follow them out there as soon as he gets things in order here.”
“Shit.” Cam covered his eyes with one hand. Of course this had to blow up while he was away from the campus.
“Yeah, and that’s not all. The Command Council has concerns about the Institute’s security. There was talk of assigning an Aurora militia unit to stand guard.”
Apprehension flared in Cam’s gut. “We’ll see about that,” he said flatly. “I’m not about to turn the Institute into an armed camp. I want you at that meeting tomorrow, too. I’ll message Neil and let him know you’ll be joining us. I may have power issues, so I want you to be prepared to fill in for me if I can’t stay in touch.”
There was a long silence. “Cam, where the hell are you that you’ve got power issues?”
“I can’t tell you that.” He glanced at Draven. “I’ll be back as soon as this storm blows itself out.” I hope, he added silently.
“Okay.” Kyn sounded uncertain. “I… guess I’ll talk to you at the meeting tomorrow, then, yeah?”
“I’ll be there. And we’ll talk, after. Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you to deal with this alone.”
He cut the call, sent a quick message to Neil requesting Kyn’s presence at the meeting, then powered the phone down to conserve the battery. Draven was still out, and Cam couldn’t decide if he was unconscious or asleep. He tried to wake him to get some liquid into him, but neither shaking nor slapping produced any results.
Eventually, he gave up and spread a couple of blankets on the floor beside the bed. Tired, but probably too wired to sleep, he switched off the lantern and did his best to get comfortable.
* * *
The crash jolted Cam out of a sound sleep, and he looked about wildly, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Where the hell was he? He was wrapped in a blanket on a hard floor. The air was freezing, and somebody was moaning.
Draven.
It came back to him in a flash, and he pushed himself up off the floor and fumbled for the switch on the lantern. Draven lay curled on the floor at the foot of the bed, knees drawn up, body trembling. His eyes were closed, and his jaw was clenched.
Cam didn’t have to ask what was wrong. Knew the signs of riptide withdrawal all too well. He retrieved a needlepak from the plastic bag he’d hidden in one of the cupboards and knelt at Draven’s side.
Draven didn’t open his eyes as Cam took hold of his arm. “Hurry,” he rasped. “Please…”
Cam slapped the needle against Draven’s arm. He covered Draven with a blanket, then threw another log on the fire before settling himself on the freezing floor beside him. When Draven’s body finally uncoiled and relaxed, Cam helped him back to bed.
“Next time, wake me,” Cam told him. “You’re bleedin
g again. I’ll have to get you cleaned up.”
Draven blinked at him, then looked away. Cam set a pan of water on the stove and set some fresh bandages on the table. While he waited for the water to heat, he gave Draven another shot of antibiotic and a shot of pain medication, and hoped that would be enough.
By the time he’d cleaned and dressed the wound, Draven’s eyes were heavy, and his breathing had slowed and deepened.
“How do you feel?” Cam asked.
“Sleepy.” Draven smiled up at him. Not the sardonic quirk of his lips that Cam remembered so well, but a soft, trusting smile. The sort of smile one might expect from a child who had yet to learn how cruel the world could be. “Hurts,” he added, sounding almost surprised.
“Where?”
Draven’s hand slid toward the dressing Cam had just finished securing, and Cam grabbed his wrist.
“I know it hurts, but leave it alone, okay? I gave you something for the pain. Should be kicking in pretty quick. Think you can drink something? You haven’t had anything since I picked you up at the hotel.”
“Water. Can I have water?” Draven’s words were starting to slur, his cultured accent sliding into something rougher and sharper, something that reminded Cam of his own childhood.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the table and broke the seal. Draven couldn’t sit up by himself, so Cam had to help him, supporting him with an arm across his shoulders while he sucked down half the bottle in one go.
When Draven had drunk his fill, Cam eased him back down and pulled the blankets up. “Try to get some sleep,” he said.
That sweet smile was back, and Cam couldn’t quite make the vulnerable man lying in the bed mesh with his memories of the cold-blooded killer he’d known on Alpha.
“Thanks,” Draven said on a quiet sigh. “Knew you’d come. Knew you’d keep me safe.” His eyes drifted shut and his face went slack as the pain meds did their work.
Cam went back to the table and checked his phone. It was a little after five in the morning. Not much point in trying to get back to sleep. Neil had scheduled the meeting for seven, so he only had a couple of hours.
