by Amelia Jade
“This is where I leave you,” the blonde said as Maddy arrived at a blank wall. “Press there, and there,” she instructed, shining the light at two circles drawn onto the wall. “Close up after you. Ask for Flint, say Karly let you in.”
Maddy nodded.
The blonde turned and disappeared back down the hallway.
Maddy waited until she was gone, then found the circles via touch—they were actually rings attached flat to the wall—and pressed. The door clicked and slid open with ease.
“Wow.”
The room was completely different than the place she had just left. The restaurant had been rundown and on the verge of needing to be demolished instead of renovated. This place was so swanky she felt that just stepping inside would devalue it. Maddy carefully scraped her feet on the stairwell before stepping inside.
It wasn’t huge, perhaps twenty feet wide by thirty feet long, with the door toward the end of one of the short sides. In the center, facing away from her, was a huge wooden desk with a high-backed office chair sitting next to it. The chair was twisted to the side, revealing it to be empty of an occupant.
Bookcases lined the wall to her left, made of the same rich dark-brown wood as the desk. The shelves were lined with hardcovers, along with a few expensive trinkets, like a gold-crusted pen, and some sort of crystal globe.
She closed the secret door, noting the wood paneling that covered the entire wall, including the door, allowing it to blend seamlessly. Opposite of the bookshelves were several black filing cabinets. The rest of the room beyond the desk had what appeared to be a futon covered in a thick, plush cushion, two recliner chairs, a television, mini fridge and a table.
Big windows with heavy tint occupied the short wall on the opposite side from her. There was a door on the left-hand wall at the far end, right next to the windows. Overhead, bright recessed potlights lit the room.
Cautiously Maddy stepped through the room. She wanted to see what was on the other side of the windows. The tint was extremely heavy, preventing her from seeing through it until her nose was almost pressed against the glass. It took her a moment longer to realize that she needed to look down, not out.
She was in an elevated room that overlooked what appeared to be a nightclub. The big rectangular room was dotted with bar stations. Directly below her window was an elevated area spanning the width of the room. It was filled with tables and alcoves to increase privacy.
The VIP area.
The place was empty for the moment, except for what looked like a janitor, or cleaner, pushing a broom in front of him as he swept along. Maddy focused on him again. There was something about him that struck her as odd. He paused at one of the bars for a moment, and it was then, with the height perspective of the bartop added, that she realized what it was.
The man was huge! He had to be a shifter. Was it Connor? Had he beaten her here? She turned and bolted for the door, even as part of her mind rejected that conclusion. It wasn’t the lack of logic in her thoughts that brought her to a screeching halt, however, but something else entirely.
Maddy grabbed the closest thing that she could. It happened to be a small but heavy statue from the desk that occupied the center of the room.
The man who was standing in the door looked at her curiously. “What are you planning to do with that?” he asked.
“Whatever I need to,” she told him fiercely, determined not to give in. “Who are you?”
“My name is Flint,” he said evenly. “You don’t need to do anything,” he said gently. “Not for now. You’re safe.”
She snorted. “You know what, over the past day, I’ve learned a whole lot of things that I wish I hadn’t. Most of all, that I’m not safe.”
Maddy maintained a blustery exterior, hoping that it would cover up her nervousness. Connor had said that Flint was good, that he was safe. She looked at him again. Tall, for a human, though still much shorter than any shifter, he had brown hair kept short and pulled to one side in the current fashion. A neatly trimmed goatee covered his face, complementing the intelligent hazel eyes hiding in his face. He wore a nice suit, not tailored, but well-fitted in a comfortable-looking charcoal-gray color. His entire demeanor screamed “professional.”
She just hoped that meant a professional at keeping her safe.
“My name is Flint,” the man repeated, still not having moved from the doorway. “You were sent to the Limp Noodle. You ordered the Spelunker’s Delight. That’s Connor’s code word, designed to let us know that whoever gives it is to be brought on the inside and given shelter.”
Maddy relaxed a little, backing away from the man and letting him inside. She purposefully kept the secret wall door behind her, in case she needed to make a quick escape.
“Thank you,” Flint said, stepping up to the window and peering out.
“What do you want?” she asked, trying to let herself relax around him.
Connor said he was safe. So relax!
It proved harder than she expected. Maddy had thought she was relaxing, until a small twinge of pain in her hand reminded her that she still had the statue in a death grip.
“What do I want?” Flint asked, somewhat in surprise. “Am I supposed to want something? You came to me, after all.”
She frowned. He had a point. “Connor sent me here. He said that I’d be safe, and that he would meet me here.”
Flint turned away from the window, his face blank. “He did?”
Maddy nodded slowly, searching his face. What wasn’t he telling her?
“He’s not here, is he?” she said at last. “Connor hasn’t made it back yet.”
“No,” Flint said sharply, then looked away. “No he hasn’t.”
Trying to force herself to relax, Maddy stepped up to the desk and placed the statue back upon it, before joining Flint to look out the window. A small crowd had gathered at the entrance.
“Employees,” Flint explained, answering her unspoken question. “Getting ready for the day. We open in a few hours for the afternoon business people. Then we close for an hour between seven and eight, before reopening into a nightclub.”
She nodded. “Smart idea. Take advantage of all types of customers.”
He nodded, but remained silent for a moment. “Was Connor captured?” he asked at last.
Maddy shrugged. “He said he was going to draw off pursuit, so that I could get away clean.” Her voice was hoarse as she contemplated all of the things that might have happened to Connor. All because of her. “It’s my fault,” she added.
Flint didn’t speak, though he did shift his weight from one foot to the other, an invitation to continue.
“His team was trying to get my father and me out of town. To Genesis Valley. Connor was the last one, and I slowed down to wait for him, despite the others telling me to run as fast as I could.” Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to continue speaking. “If I had just done as they said, we all would have been safe.”
“What’s done is done,” Flint said, dismissing her confession with a wave of his hand.
He was, she noted, not entirely caring of her words. Maddy had hoped that revealing the weight she felt on her shoulders, about how whatever had happened to Connor was her fault, would help relieve some of the stress she felt inside her. Flint had effectively prevented her from doing any such thing.
Before Maddy could find the words to respond, something drew her attention.
“Umm?” she said, turning the sound into a question as she nodded her head at the crowd of people.
Several of them had begun to back away from the group, while several more rushed forward, disappearing out of sight under an overhang.
“That is the entrance,” Flint said, indicating the direction several employees had headed in. He didn’t say anything else, and instead just watched.
A circle opened up as several of the people who had rushed toward the doors reappeared. This time they were dragging someone over their shoulder. Whoever it was, they were having a
hard time moving of their own accord. The white marbled floor was streaked with dirty water as the person moved over it.
Maddy peered closer, her eyes trying to focus through the tinted glass.
“Shit,” Flint swore angrily at the same moment she realized that it wasn’t water.
It was blood.
***
Connor!
She turned and barged through the door, barreling down the unfamiliar stairs and emerging into a warren of hallways.
“Wait!” Flint’s voice came from behind her. “It might be a trap!”
Maddy ignored him, frantically searching for the door that would take her out to the floor. Behind her she heard a door swing open. Whirling, she saw two big men haul Connor inside. She darted toward them, but they ignored her. She followed their eyes, and arrived at the door they wanted two steps ahead of them. She threw it open and held it wide so that they could easily get Connor inside.
Turning, Maddy noticed it was a sterile, medical room of sorts. Not a surgeon’s operating room at a hospital, but much more than she would have expected a normal club to have.
Then again, judging by the size of the two men who had brought Connor inside, this was far more than a “normal” club.
“Connor,” she said desperately as they gingerly lifted him onto the bed in the center of the room.
“Get his leg,” one of them commanded.
At their directions, she helped them lay him back on to the bed. He groaned, but his eyes stayed closed.
“He’s in a bad way,” one of them commented. “We need to rebreak his leg and set it properly. Otherwise he’ll have a limp.”
“Okay,” she said, looking back and forth. “That should hurt, but I mean, he’ll recover, won’t he?”
The pair of shifters looked at each other quickly before they focused back on her. Maddy felt her stomach tighten. There was more. Something they weren’t telling her.
“What else?” she whispered.
The one who had spoken the first time hesitated.
“Show me,” she commanded, fixing him with a stare, refusing to back down from the challenge she had just thrown out there. By giving an order and forcing her will upon the man, Maddy knew she had just tried to insert herself in the hierarchy. If the shifter decided she was an unknown, he would probably kick her from the room.
“Who are you?” he asked after a moment.
“I’m with him,” Maddy replied, her body language making it very clear which him she was referring to.
After another moment, the shifter finally nodded, respecting her authority, and lifted up Connor’s blood-soaked shirt.
“This shouldn’t be,” he said bluntly. “This should have stopped bleeding a long time ago.”
Maddy peered at the wound, a mass of black dried blood, green-tinged skin, and angry red flesh exposed to the open air. The man was right. The wound was bad, but if the blood had dried to a blackened color on him, it should have closed by now. Instead, it continued to bleed.
“Leg.” The faint word escaped from Connor’s lips as he stirred.
“What’s that?” she asked, moving immediately to his side, careful of his injury.
“My leg,” he said, eyes blinking open. “Fix the leg now.”
The two shifters started to move, then stopped as they looked at her. Maddy frowned. Why were they looking at her? They knew it needed to be done, and Connor had just confirmed it. She hated to see him put in any more pain, but she knew he would react worse if he ended up with a limp for the rest of his life that prevented him from doing his job.
Then it hit her. She had taken charge of the situation. They were looking to her for permission!
“Do it,” she said in her best command voice, indicating the clearly broken leg. She could see a lump of what she presumed to be bone sticking out, almost puncturing the skin on his calf. How the hell had he been able to walk on it? Her stomach rebelled at even contemplating the idea of doing something like that. Her eyes flashed with pride as she wrapped one hand around his face, looking into his eyes as the two shifters set about their business.
Maddy had always been amazed at how well most shifters could set bones. She had broken her arm rather badly when she was younger, and her father had reset it for her before taking her to the hospital. The doctors had been amazed at the job he had done. Her father had blown it off when she asked him about it, saying that shifters both learned young and had an innate sense of just knowing how to do it.
That sense was in full force now as the men worked on his leg.
Connor jerked in her arms and his eyes bulged. Maddy heard something pop loudly, and Connor cried out, clamping his lips closed, but the sound still escaped. The shifters relaxed their hold on him, and almost immediately Connor’s blue eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out.
“The leg will set properly now,” one of the guards said.
“What are your names?” she asked, looking at both of them.
“I’m Andre, he’s Milos,” the one who had spoken to her at first replied.
“Thank you both,” she said, before returning her attention to the wound on his side. “Now, what do we do about this?”
“Clean it, and hope for the best.”
She turned as Flint finally entered the room. Where the hell had he been? It had been a good five or ten minutes since Andre and Milos dragged Connor into the room. Flint had been right next to her in the office. What had taken him so long to get down there? Maddy had forgotten all about him in the commotion that had followed.
“That’s it?” she asked, angry. “Just hope and pray, nothing more?”
Flint shrugged. “I am sorry Maddy, but I have never seen something like that before. He is a shifter; his body should have healed that quickly. It looks deep, and it might have taken a day to completely heal, but the flow of blood should have stopped in five or maybe ten minutes. That blood around it is black and crusty. It has been dry for a long time now. This happened at least an hour ago.”
Maddy glanced at a big digital clock on the wall above the door. It had been two hours since she and Connor had split up. Flint was right. Something was wrong.
“Is he going to survive?” she asked, looking at the three men in the room.
All of them looked uncomfortable.
None of them replied.
Chapter Nine
Connor
He groaned as the pain slapped him awake. Eyes crusted with sleep struggled to blink open. Even as they did, blinding white light reached out and took his tender head and shook it like a spray paint can, leaving him reeling in agony.
Connor decided the world could go to hell and he closed his eyes, content to rest for a little longer.
“Connor?” the concerned, quiet feminine voice sounded from near his ear.
He knew that voice! Inside, his bear came to life, insisting that he turn his head and open his eyes. It wanted, no needed, to see Maddy. The command was so powerful it overruled the pain that he felt as his eyes flicked open.
To his surprise and his relief, his neck didn’t protest as he turned to look at the most beautiful brown eyes he had seen in a long time. They hovered at his head height, the rest of her cut off by the bloodstained pillow he was lying on.
“Hi,” she said softly, flashing him a weak smile.
Connor felt a soft, tender hand take his. Though she didn’t grip hard, he instinctively knew that she wasn’t going to let go.
For some reason, he was okay with that. Connor felt the influence of his animal rise to the surface, and had to fight it down. He was in no condition to be attempting what his bear was suggesting. Nor was this the right time, or place, for such an action. There might never be one, he told himself. Maddy cared about him, but it was likely just a result of what they had been through together.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“You should see the other truck,” he bragged, twisting the normal statement to imply that he felt like he’d been hit by one
. “How long?”
Maddy didn’t question him. She seemed to know what he was asking.
“You were out for about twelve hours,” she said quietly.
“Twelve hours?” he exclaimed, his hands moving in protest, breaking the grip between them. “That’s impossible.”
His bed was facing the door out of the room. He recognized the silvery metal walls, white-tiled floor, and medicinal cabinets lining the walls. This was Flint’s medical ward at another of the small nightclubs he owned. The clubs had proven to be wise investments. They allowed for all sorts of people to come and go over the course of a night without drawing attention. Connor put that thought from his mind as he focused on the clock above the door.
It was now fourteen hours since he had sent Maddy on her way. Two hours of escape, and twelve of unconsciousness. Something was wrong.
He relaxed into the bed, relief that she was okay just now flooding into him as his addled brain recognized that fact. Connor had worried about her, but the sudden easing of weight on his shoulders surprised him. Apparently he had been worrying more than he thought.
But twelve hours? Even the few times Connor had been hit with a tranquilizer gun he had never been out that long. Fourteen minutes? Sure. An hour? Perhaps. Something was very, very wrong. Even now he felt lethargic and felt weak.
“How do you feel now?” Maddy asked.
He looked into her eyes, yearning for the touch of her hand. She looked worried, her arms now nervously crossed in front of her. Whatever had happened to him had scared her, badly.
“Better now,” he whispered truthfully, slipping out of his professional role for just a moment, not breaking eye contact with her at all.
The pair continued to look at each other, neither moving nor speaking. Something passed between them then. Connor knew he might never understand what, but something did. A tear formed in her eye as her guard crumbled under his gaze.
“Hey, come here,” he said, reaching out and pulling her close. Pain twinged in his midsection, and he noticed that Maddy was very careful to use her hands to rest herself on either side of him as he pulled her in close.
