But Yarnell was ready this time. He caught my foot in midswing with his good hand, absorbing my momentum with a jarring thud of steel-toed boot against bare palm. Then he twisted my leg, and pain shot through my ankle as I lost my balance. I landed hard on my chest, and when my chin hit the floor, I bit my cheek.
I was still struggling to spit out my own blood and draw a breath when Yarnell’s weight dropped onto my back. He yanked brutally on my arms again, and my wrists were tightly taped before my double vision merged. My ankles were bound a minute later.
Duct tape is strong, which is why my own Pride used it to bind trespassers resisting removal. But the interesting thing about that particular kind of tape is that, for all its strength, because of its distinctive weave, a single weak point would be enough to start a tear. Which is why we—and evidently Peter Yarnell—used multiple layers. The chance of a single weak point repeating in each layer was virtually nil.
And I didn’t exactly have a history of good luck in the first place.
When I was secure, though still thrashing, Yarnell hauled me up by my arms and shoved me down on the couch, my hands pressed into the cushions at my back.
Across the room, Dan caught my eye as he nursed his broken nose. “I don’t understand,” I said, practically daring him to meet my gaze. “You made a list of strays for us. You fought alongside us in the ambush! And the whole time you were feeding Kevin information?” And suddenly I remembered Dan sitting at Marc’s kitchen table, his phone in front of him. The bastard hadn’t been playing Tetris!
Dan shrugged, but looked distinctly uncomfortable discussing his part in the whole thing. “I had nothing to do with the ambush. Kevin set that up on his own, after I told him you guys would be coming through town. I stopped to make sure Manx and the kid were okay, then it was either fight with you or admit I was spying for the other side.” He wiped a smear of blood from one cheek, then dropped his eyes. “And I gave you a list of strays I thought knew nothing about the chips. Feldman was a surprise, of course. Just my luck.”
“Wow.” I allowed myself a small moment to gloat. “You’re a piss-poor spy.” Except for the fact that he’d infiltrated my Pride’s home base—the first successful penetration by a hostile stray. Ever. Damn it.
I glared up at Dan, cursing myself mentally for not seeing this coming. And no one even knew where we were, since I hadn’t really called my father.
Except for Dr. Carver… How long would it take him to figure out something had gone wrong, and call for help?
“You know, she’s right! I don’t think you’ve been pulling your weight around here lately,” Kevin said, glaring at Dan as if their conversation had never been interrupted. “Didn’t you let her beat the living shit out of Pete the other day?”
Dan rolled his eyes, looking more than a little irritated. “What did you want me to say? ‘Faythe, lay off him. He’s my secret partner in crime.’?”
But Kevin continued as if he hadn’t even heard. “And they were not supposed to be in my house.”
“How was I supposed to stop them without tipping them off?” Dan demanded, dropping into one of Yarnell’s overstuffed armchairs, his bloody towel hanging limply from one fist.
“You could have at least gotten the tracker away from her.”
“She never put the damn thing down!”
“He’s right.” I shrugged—an awkward movement with my hands pinned behind me—only then remembering that I still had the gadget in my pocket. “I can be pretty difficult to reason with.”
“And pretty damn hard to shut up.” Kevin crossed the room to stand in front of a mirror hanging over an occasional table against the far wall, turning his head to examine his crooked nose. “Who the hell am I going to get to set this again—” Kevin froze, as what he’d said sank in, and I was pretty sure I knew what he’d just remembered. “Fuck. Dan, go get the doctor before he realizes something’s wrong and calls in backup.”
“Too late for that,” I bluffed, smirking at Kevin’s newly mutilated reflection. “My dad knows exactly where we are, and he’ll have backup here within minutes.”
“She’s right.” Dan glanced back and forth between us, new worry lines bisecting his brow. “She called her dad before we left.”
“Did you see her call Greg?” Kevin demanded, and Dan shook his head. “Then she didn’t call him. This little bitch is known for insubordination, and her dad would never approve such a risky stunt, for fear of precisely this.” Kevin turned to face the room slowly, his arms spread to indicate my unfortunate predicament.
“Vic’s expecting to hear from me soon, and if he doesn’t, he’ll know something went wrong.”
“Now, that I believe. But how on earth will he find you?” Kevin heaved an exaggerated shrug and pouted in mock distress. Then he dropped the facade and turned an angry look on Dan. “Her father has no idea she’s here. And neither does anyone else except the damned doctor. So go get him.”
I could have told him that Vic had the address, but I was afraid if he knew that, he’d move us. Then we’d be screwed.
Dan nodded curtly, and jogged through the kitchen toward the back door.
“Don’t forget this!” Kevin called, and Dan turned just in time to catch the syringe Kevin had pulled from his pocket. “If you can’t con him into coming peacefully, knock him out and throw him over your shoulder.”
I was still struggling to spit out my own blood and draw a breath when Yarnell’s weight dropped onto my back. He yanked brutally on my arms again, and my wrists were tightly taped before my double vision merged. My ankles were bound a minute later.
Duct tape is strong, which is why my own Pride used it to bind trespassers resisting removal. But the interesting thing about that particular kind of tape is that, for all its strength, because of its distinctive weave, a single weak point would be enough to start a tear. Which is why we—and evidently Peter Yarnell—used multiple layers. The chance of a single weak point repeating in each layer was virtually nil.
And I didn’t exactly have a history of good luck in the first place.
When I was secure, though still thrashing, Yarnell hauled me up by my arms and shoved me down on the couch, my hands pressed into the cushions at my back.
Across the room, Dan caught my eye as he nursed his broken nose. “I don’t understand,” I said, practically daring him to meet my gaze. “You made a list of strays for us. You fought alongside us in the ambush! And the whole time you were feeding Kevin information?” And suddenly I remembered Dan sitting at Marc’s kitchen table, his phone in front of him. The bastard hadn’t been playing Tetris!
Dan shrugged, but looked distinctly uncomfortable discussing his part in the whole thing. “I had nothing to do with the ambush. Kevin set that up on his own, after I told him you guys would be coming through town. I stopped to make sure Manx and the kid were okay, then it was either fight with you or admit I was spying for the other side.” He wiped a smear of blood from one cheek, then dropped his eyes. “And I gave you a list of strays I thought knew nothing about the chips. Feldman was a surprise, of course. Just my luck.”
“Wow.” I allowed myself a small moment to gloat. “You’re a piss-poor spy.” Except for the fact that he’d infiltrated my Pride’s home base—the first successful penetration by a hostile stray. Ever. Damn it.
I glared up at Dan, cursing myself mentally for not seeing this coming. And no one even knew where we were, since I hadn’t really called my father.
Except for Dr. Carver… How long would it take him to figure out something had gone wrong, and call for help?
“You know, she’s right! I don’t think you’ve been pulling your weight around here lately,” Kevin said, glaring at Dan as if their conversation had never been interrupted. “Didn’t you let her beat the living shit out of Pete the other day?”
Dan rolled his eyes, looking more than a little irritated. “What did you want me to say? ‘Faythe, lay off him. He’s my secret partner in crime.’?”
But Kevin continued as if he hadn’t even heard. “And they were not supposed to be in my house.”
“How was I supposed to stop them without tipping them off?” Dan demanded, dropping into one of Yarnell’s overstuffed armchairs, his bloody towel hanging limply from one fist.
“You could have at least gotten the tracker away from her.”
“She never put the damn thing down!”
“He’s right.” I shrugged—an awkward movement with my hands pinned behind me—only then remembering that I still had the gadget in my pocket. “I can be pretty difficult to reason with.”
“And pretty damn hard to shut up.” Kevin crossed the room to stand in front of a mirror hanging over an occasional table against the far wall, turning his head to examine his crooked nose. “Who the hell am I going to get to set this again—” Kevin froze, as what he’d said sank in, and I was pretty sure I knew what he’d just remembered. “Fuck. Dan, go get the doctor before he realizes something’s wrong and calls in backup.”
“Too late for that,” I bluffed, smirking at Kevin’s newly mutilated reflection. “My dad knows exactly where we are, and he’ll have backup here within minutes.”
“She’s right.” Dan glanced back and forth between us, new worry lines bisecting his brow. “She called her dad before we left.”
“Did you see her call Greg?” Kevin demanded, and Dan shook his head. “Then she didn’t call him. This little bitch is known for insubordination, and her dad would never approve such a risky stunt, for fear of precisely this.” Kevin turned to face the room slowly, his arms spread to indicate my unfortunate predicament.
“Vic’s expecting to hear from me soon, and if he doesn’t, he’ll know something went wrong.”
“Now, that I believe. But how on earth will he find you?” Kevin heaved an exaggerated shrug and pouted in mock distress. Then he dropped the facade and turned an angry look on Dan. “Her father has no idea she’s here. And neither does anyone else except the damned doctor. So go get him.”
I could have told him that Vic had the address, but I was afraid if he knew that, he’d move us. Then we’d be screwed.
Dan nodded curtly, and jogged through the kitchen toward the back door.
“Don’t forget this!” Kevin called, and Dan turned just in time to catch the syringe Kevin had pulled from his pocket. “If you can’t con him into coming peacefully, knock him out and throw him over your shoulder.”
