Dan shoved the syringe into his pocket and slammed the door on his way out, and suddenly I understood why both Marc and Jace were sleeping so soundly.
“Watch the back window,” Kevin ordered, and Yarnell wandered into the kitchen as our Pride’s most notorious traitor sank into the armchair to the left of the couch, his elbows propped on widespread knees. His eager gaze focused on me, and Kevin opened his mouth. But I cut him off, stalling for time in hopes that Dr. Carver would come of his own volition, thus conscious and able to fight.
True, he hadn’t worked as an enforcer in nearly a decade, but hopefully fighting was like riding a bike. Only more painful.
“So, you knew Marc was alive the whole time, and that we knew about the microchips?” I said, cocking my head at Kevin.
He grinned and took the bait, evidently eager to show off his evil skillz, now that the damsel was officially in distress. “About the microchips? Yeah. Dan told us Ben Feldman showed you his. But the real irony is that Feldman asked me not to tell anyone else about it!” His smile made me want to puke, but I kept my face blank. “I can’t believe he cut it out of his own back. That fucker’s hard-core. Seriously, Feldman’s the scariest damned altruist I ever met. Dealing with him takes real finesse, and getting him implanted was a huge pain in the ass. He was a pretty high priority, though, because he’s unpredictable.”
So Feldman wasn’t in on the microchip conspiracy…
“But no, we didn’t know Marc was alive until Dan told us where to find Adam Eckard’s body. But then finding Marc was easy enough, thanks to the tracker. Ironic, huh? He nearly died fighting Eckard before we could get him implanted, then Eckard’s chip leads us right to him.”
“You really weren’t trying to kill him?”
“We were during the ambush. And I can’t even begin to explain how hard it is to get that many strays to work together, even fighting against a common enemy.” Marc, of course.
“I assume it was easier with Dan’s help,” I spit.
“Nah. He really wanted nothing to do with that. He didn’t want the baby caught in the cross fire. I think he feels loyal to Manx, since she didn’t kill him when she could have.” Kevin shrugged. “But when that didn’t work out, the powers that be decided it might be more interesting to track him. See if we could catch him breaking the rules. Maybe sneaking into Pride territory to see his girlfriend.” He raised one accusatory eyebrow at me, but before I could argue that that wouldn’t have happened, Yarnell called out softly from the kitchen.
“Hey, Mitchell, they’re here, and the doc’s walking tall.”
“Oh, good!” Kevin grinned as he stood, looking giddy enough to bounce off the walls. “Now that the loose ends are all tied up, the real fun begins.”
“What fun?” I demanded, but Kevin was already walking away from me.
“Keep her quiet,” he muttered on his way across the room.
Yarnell raced in from the kitchen and was on me before I could yell to warn Dr. Carver. He pulled me onto his lap on the couch and shoved the end of Dan’s bloodstained towel into my mouth, then clamped his hand over it. My shout came out as a muffled moan, and no amount of struggling could dislodge Yarnell’s grip on me, though his still-healing ribs must have been in agony.
Kevin stopped beside another armchair and squatted to pull something from behind it. My eyes widened when I saw the tire iron Dan had been carrying, and I wasn’t much comforted when he took the time to wrap his own bloodstained towel around the business end of the tool.
“Shh,” he said, eyes wide, one finger pressed to his lips. “I’m hunting wabbit! But we don’t want Carver dead until he’s fixed my nose, now do we?” Kevin stood flat against the wall, where I could see him, but someone coming through the back door would not.
I thrashed harder, but Yarnell’s grip on me only tightened until I was afraid he’d break my ribs. Unfortunately, there was no time for a partial Shift, or any other offensive measure.
The kitchen door opened, and Dr. Carver’s voice reached my ears. “Where is she?” Then his gaze landed on me, and his forehead crinkled in confusion. “What the hell—”
I screeched wordlessly in warning as he passed through the doorway, but it did no good.
“What’s up, Doc?” Kevin swung the tire iron like a baseball bat. The towel-wrapped steel connected with the side of Dr. Carver’s skull, and the doctor collapsed onto the carpet with a muffled thud.
Noooo! I screamed in my head, but the audible portion was nothing more than an inarticulate groan.
“Tape him up and toss him into the tub,” Kevin ordered, and Dan stepped forward reluctantly, a fresh roll of duct tape in one hand.
Yarnell copped a generous feel of my inner thigh, then shoved me off of his lap, onto the center couch cushion, where I fell over on one side, unable to right myself without the use of my hands. Tears formed in my eyes and ran sideways across my cheeks as I watched Dr. Carver—my last hope for help from the cavalry—hauled down the hall.
“Now…” Kevin said, slinking across the room toward me, the rings around his eyes darkening with each second as he took the towel out of my mouth. “Let’s get down to business….”
Twenty-Seven
“Here’s how this is going to work.” Kevin stopped three feet in front of the couch, squatting to put himself at eye level with me, my face half-buried in the cushion. “I’m going to ask the questions, and Pete’s going to make sure you answer them.”
“Watch the back window,” Kevin ordered, and Yarnell wandered into the kitchen as our Pride’s most notorious traitor sank into the armchair to the left of the couch, his elbows propped on widespread knees. His eager gaze focused on me, and Kevin opened his mouth. But I cut him off, stalling for time in hopes that Dr. Carver would come of his own volition, thus conscious and able to fight.
True, he hadn’t worked as an enforcer in nearly a decade, but hopefully fighting was like riding a bike. Only more painful.
“So, you knew Marc was alive the whole time, and that we knew about the microchips?” I said, cocking my head at Kevin.
He grinned and took the bait, evidently eager to show off his evil skillz, now that the damsel was officially in distress. “About the microchips? Yeah. Dan told us Ben Feldman showed you his. But the real irony is that Feldman asked me not to tell anyone else about it!” His smile made me want to puke, but I kept my face blank. “I can’t believe he cut it out of his own back. That fucker’s hard-core. Seriously, Feldman’s the scariest damned altruist I ever met. Dealing with him takes real finesse, and getting him implanted was a huge pain in the ass. He was a pretty high priority, though, because he’s unpredictable.”
So Feldman wasn’t in on the microchip conspiracy…
“But no, we didn’t know Marc was alive until Dan told us where to find Adam Eckard’s body. But then finding Marc was easy enough, thanks to the tracker. Ironic, huh? He nearly died fighting Eckard before we could get him implanted, then Eckard’s chip leads us right to him.”
“You really weren’t trying to kill him?”
“We were during the ambush. And I can’t even begin to explain how hard it is to get that many strays to work together, even fighting against a common enemy.” Marc, of course.
“I assume it was easier with Dan’s help,” I spit.
“Nah. He really wanted nothing to do with that. He didn’t want the baby caught in the cross fire. I think he feels loyal to Manx, since she didn’t kill him when she could have.” Kevin shrugged. “But when that didn’t work out, the powers that be decided it might be more interesting to track him. See if we could catch him breaking the rules. Maybe sneaking into Pride territory to see his girlfriend.” He raised one accusatory eyebrow at me, but before I could argue that that wouldn’t have happened, Yarnell called out softly from the kitchen.
“Hey, Mitchell, they’re here, and the doc’s walking tall.”
“Oh, good!” Kevin grinned as he stood, looking giddy enough to bounce off the walls. “Now that the loose ends are all tied up, the real fun begins.”
“What fun?” I demanded, but Kevin was already walking away from me.
“Keep her quiet,” he muttered on his way across the room.
Yarnell raced in from the kitchen and was on me before I could yell to warn Dr. Carver. He pulled me onto his lap on the couch and shoved the end of Dan’s bloodstained towel into my mouth, then clamped his hand over it. My shout came out as a muffled moan, and no amount of struggling could dislodge Yarnell’s grip on me, though his still-healing ribs must have been in agony.
Kevin stopped beside another armchair and squatted to pull something from behind it. My eyes widened when I saw the tire iron Dan had been carrying, and I wasn’t much comforted when he took the time to wrap his own bloodstained towel around the business end of the tool.
“Shh,” he said, eyes wide, one finger pressed to his lips. “I’m hunting wabbit! But we don’t want Carver dead until he’s fixed my nose, now do we?” Kevin stood flat against the wall, where I could see him, but someone coming through the back door would not.
I thrashed harder, but Yarnell’s grip on me only tightened until I was afraid he’d break my ribs. Unfortunately, there was no time for a partial Shift, or any other offensive measure.
The kitchen door opened, and Dr. Carver’s voice reached my ears. “Where is she?” Then his gaze landed on me, and his forehead crinkled in confusion. “What the hell—”
I screeched wordlessly in warning as he passed through the doorway, but it did no good.
“What’s up, Doc?” Kevin swung the tire iron like a baseball bat. The towel-wrapped steel connected with the side of Dr. Carver’s skull, and the doctor collapsed onto the carpet with a muffled thud.
Noooo! I screamed in my head, but the audible portion was nothing more than an inarticulate groan.
“Tape him up and toss him into the tub,” Kevin ordered, and Dan stepped forward reluctantly, a fresh roll of duct tape in one hand.
Yarnell copped a generous feel of my inner thigh, then shoved me off of his lap, onto the center couch cushion, where I fell over on one side, unable to right myself without the use of my hands. Tears formed in my eyes and ran sideways across my cheeks as I watched Dr. Carver—my last hope for help from the cavalry—hauled down the hall.
“Now…” Kevin said, slinking across the room toward me, the rings around his eyes darkening with each second as he took the towel out of my mouth. “Let’s get down to business….”
Twenty-Seven
“Here’s how this is going to work.” Kevin stopped three feet in front of the couch, squatting to put himself at eye level with me, my face half-buried in the cushion. “I’m going to ask the questions, and Pete’s going to make sure you answer them.”
