by AJ Quinn
Jessie felt helpless but did what she could. She stood close so Darien could lean against her legs, held Darien’s hair out of her face, and passed her a bottle of water Zoey produced so she could rinse her mouth.
She then helped her get back into the car and sat beside her in relative silence. She knew one of them would eventually break the ice, and it turned out to be Zoey, after taking a hard look at Darien in the rearview mirror.
“You’re concussed again, aren’t you?” There was concern evident in her voice, and fear. But there was also a great deal of anger.
Jessie looked at Darien and saw everything only too clearly. The fatigue, the headache, the simmering emotions ruthlessly held in check. But as she watched, she saw Darien gather herself. “It’s a possibility.”
“But the doctor told you—”
“Zoey.” Darien turned her head and looked at Jessie.
“Don’t look at me to defend what you did,” Jessie said, while keeping her tone neutral. “It’s obvious you knew what you were walking into when we went to Oz tonight.”
Clearly that was something Zoey didn’t need to hear. “You fought in that damned cage even after what the doctor said? Goddamn it, Dare. She warned you. One well-placed blow, another concussion, could cause permanent brain damage or even kill you. And you promised…you promised me you’d be careful. What were you thinking?”
Darien pressed her fingers to her eyes, muttered something about being surrounded by stubborn women, and sighed wearily. “It was a calculated risk, Zoey. We need Yuri’s help and getting in the cage was the only way to get him to agree to meet with me.”
Zoey lashed out before Darien could complete her argument. “But why did it have to be you?”
“Because time’s not our ally right now, and Ari could make something happen quicker than anyone else. Why do you think Ben pulled me into this mess in the first place?”
“Because he’s a selfish bastard and he only cares about the job. About getting the job done.”
“Ah, Zoey, no,” Darien said softly. “Come on, you know that’s not true.”
“Maybe not,” Zoey conceded after a long moment, “but you’re the one who put it on the line and ended up getting hurt.”
“I’m fine—”
“You’re not fine.” Zoey bit the words out. “You’ve got another concussion, your face is bruised, your eye’s swollen, and you’re holding your side, so you’ve probably also busted a couple of ribs. You only say you’re fine like all of that’s nothing because you’ve got some kind of damned death wish. Same as always.”
Jessie stiffened as Zoey’s words whispered through her. Was that what lay behind the glimpses she caught from time to time in Darien’s eyes?
“It’s not a death wish.” Darien paused, her gaze direct. “I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing. This organization we’re after—the Guild—they’re dangerous. Deadly. Nobody knows that better than me. They’re about to make their next move, and I have no idea when or who they intend to target. I only know it’s going to be soon, and innocent people are going to die. They need to be stopped before that happens, Zoey, but to do that, we have to find them. Get up close and personal with them. And Yuri is the only way I know to make that happen quickly.”
There was a twisted logic to what she was saying, and Jessie knew she was right, but Zoey clearly wasn’t ready to let go. “I don’t know about any of that. All I know is lately it seems like every time you go near Yuri, you end up getting hurt.”
“That’s just because I’m getting too old for this shit.” Darien made a small frustrated sound. It was not exactly a laugh, and there was no humor in it, but it was enough to have her hold her ribs and groan. “I’m always tired after I come home from a job. It’s why I’ve always refused to take on jobs back to back—because I need time to clear my head. But now it seems my body needs time to recover as well. Damn it, Zoey, when was the last time I took a vacation?”
The change in direction worked, and Jessie saw Zoey glance in the rearview for just a second or two, as if trying to ascertain how serious the question was. “Do you mean like spending weeks in Djibouti or Kigali tracking a target? Or do you mean taking a sailboat and going to a beach somewhere like Fiji, surrounded by palm trees and beautiful women?”
“The beach.” Darien sighed and sank deeper into the soft leather seat. “Definitely the beach.”
Zoey laughed. “Then the answer would be never.”
Darien glanced at Jessie and gave her a wry smile. “That’s what I thought. Do you like sailboats and beaches, Jesslyn? Maybe it’s time we all go to the beach.”
Jessie smiled back. “I like sailboats and beaches just fine. But I’m not a fan of tan lines.”
Darien groaned again, only this time Jessie had a feeling it had nothing to do with her bruises.
Chapter Eleven
Darien opened her eyes to a throbbing head, a rapidly pounding heart, and a fire burning along her ribcage. The room was dimly lit, and when combined with the faint disorientation she was experiencing, it took several minutes before she was able to process where she was and what had happened.
She had a vague recollection of being driven to this particular hotel after leaving Oz. It was part of the legend she’d created, the place where Ari routinely stayed, and until she heard from Yuri, it would be necessary to stay in character. But with her head and body aching, the drive had proven nearly unbearable.
She remembered getting out of her clothes and slipping into one of the plush white robes the hotel provided, shivering as reaction set in while Jessie argued that she needed to go to a hospital. But she’d refused, and the determined set of her jaw must have said it louder than the words she struggled to say because Jessie finally gave in.
But not completely. What Jessie did was call Ben, who arranged for a doctor to make a house call to her hotel room. Darien recognized the doctor who eventually checked her out as a long-established contact of Ben’s. A woman with a gentle touch, a sarcastic mouth, and a willingness to treat a friend of a friend in the middle of the night, no questions asked. For some reason, Darien couldn’t recall her name.
She’d bit her already painful lip and remained silent through the inevitable poking and prodding that followed. Nodded when the doctor advised her she’d be better off sleeping sitting up so her ribs wouldn’t hurt quite so badly. Released a sigh of relief when there were no more scrapes and abrasions that needed tending and Jessie gently pressed an ice pack to the side of her face.
Before she left, the doctor gave her a shot to blur the edges of pain into something more tolerable. Darien hated needles—a childhood aversion she’d never outgrown—but once the drug began to take effect, she grew drowsy and unable to think clearly. Exhaustion took its toll and everything began to fade. And then she couldn’t think at all as she lost the battle with sleep and it pulled her under.
She just hadn’t expected she would sleep the entire day, not counting the few times she remembered Jessie waking her up to make certain she was able to regain normal consciousness. But if the sky visible through the window and the green glowing numbers on the bedside clock were any indication, it was exactly what she’d done. The day had been and gone and darkness had slipped into place once again, all while she’d been sleeping.
She groaned softly. In spite of the chorus of complaints from her body, she needed to get up. She didn’t know where her weapons were—not her primary, not her backup, not even her knife. The absence of weapons left her feeling vulnerable as hell, a feeling she was far from comfortable with, and she couldn’t recall the last time something like this had happened.
She also needed to check her voice mail and e-mail and find out if Yuri had made any progress in getting her a contact with whoever had resurrected the Guild. She hadn’t exaggerated when she’d explained things to Zoey. The Guild’s next move was coming. She could feel it in her bones. And whatever they chose to do next, it would be fast and it would be deadly, which meant ther
e wasn’t time to lose.
But first, she desperately needed a shower.
Time to move.
She briefly wondered if her legs were going to be able to support her once she tried to stand. But the thought caused only a moment’s hesitation before she pushed off the bed. She even managed to stay on her feet for maybe five seconds before her head threatened to explode and she was hit hard by a twisting sense of vertigo. She dropped back onto the bed, braced her elbows on her knees, and gripped her skull.
“Going somewhere?” Jessie rose from a chair near the window and walked over to the bed, her voice quiet but laced with steel.
The moment stretched and the silence hummed. Darien straightened. She wasn’t accustomed to dealing with nerves, at least not her own. She ran a hand over her face and tried to wipe away the last vestiges of drugged sleep. She grimaced when she came in contact with a bruise.
“The bathroom.” Her throat was dry and the words came out as barely more than a harsh whisper. She tried again. “I could really use a shower…make that a shower, some coffee, and I’d kill for some aspirin. Um, by any chance, do you know where my gun ended up?”
“Your SIG’s in the drawer in the night table, on the right side of the bed. I’ve borrowed your backup for the time being. And I’ll see about finding you some aspirin. You can take them with food after you’ve showered.”
Darien stared at her for a minute. “I don’t think food ranks that high on my list of priorities right now.” Mostly she wasn’t certain she could keep anything down.
As she spoke, she opened the drawer in the night table and found her SIG exactly where Jessie had said it would be. She pulled it out and felt marginally better, just by having the gun in her hand.
She released the magazine and checked to make sure it was loaded. Once she was satisfied, she ensured the gun was cocked and locked with a round in the chamber, then slid the weapon under one of the pillows on the bed.
Jessie watched her deal with the weapon without comment. “I’m not surprised you’re not hungry. But you’ve not eaten in more than twenty-four hours, and whatever you might have eaten before was left on the side of the road early this morning. Food will help you recover faster. Food and rest. You know I’m right, so don’t waste your breath arguing with me.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Darien lifted a hand to her chest, rubbed her battered ribs. “I seem to remember Ben’s doctor friend checking me out. Did she say anything I should know?”
“She said you’re a mess, but I’m guessing you’ve already figured that out from how you’re feeling.” Jessie was clearly not holding back. “You’ve got a concussion, bruised ribs, an assortment of contusions and lacerations, and you’re running a low-grade fever. She suspects you’ve also got a bruised kidney and said to tell you not to be surprised if you find you’re passing a bit of blood. She also said it could be a few days before the vertigo subsides.”
“All right.”
“The good news is you’ll live,” Jessie continued. “Of course, that’s assuming you don’t do anything else that could be construed as stupid. Like getting into a cage fight with someone who looks like they belong in Jurassic Park. Because if you do, I might be tempted to take you out myself.”
The urge to turn away was strong. Her body ached and her head throbbed with every heartbeat, making an argument just about the last thing Darien wanted. But the fates did not seem to be cooperating. “It’s not as if I planned that part of last night’s program,” she said defensively.
“No, I’ll grant you that.” Jessie appeared to hesitate and sighed. “The doctor said you’ll probably be feeling quite a bit of pain for the next few days, and she left you some pills that should help. She said you won’t have full strength or mobility for at least a week and suggested you might want to refrain from anything more strenuous than an occasional walk to the bathroom or over to the sofa for at least a couple of days. Although she also told me not to hold out much hope that you’ll listen. I take it she knows you.”
“We’ve encountered each other on a few occasions in the past.”
“Other times when you’ve been injured, I would imagine.”
Darien shrugged and mentally debated the relative merits of whatever medication the doctor had left behind. She hated pills. Any pills. But the thought of taking something that could provide some measure of relief for the pounding in her head sounded appealing.
Too appealing.
She took a steadying breath, but the pressure still pounded against her skull, blurring her vision. “All I really want at the moment is a shower.”
Some of what she was feeling must have shown in her face, because when Jessie responded, this time her voice was softer. More gentle. “Can you manage on your own or do you need help?”
I’ve been managing on my own for a very long time. Since I was thirteen, Darien thought and felt the prickle of her isolation. “I can make it on my own.”
And she could, she told herself. But maybe later, after her head stopped throbbing and the room quit spinning. She blinked, swallowed, and reached for Jessie. “But maybe I could lean on you a little? Just to get me started. If you don’t mind.”
She felt Jessie’s eyes sweep over her, saw her smile. “I don’t mind. And while you’re having your shower, I’ll order some food from room service. Is there anything in particular that you think might appeal?”
Darien felt her stomach knot at the thought of food. “No. Just make it something that won’t require a great deal of chewing,” she said and sent Jessie a fleeting grin.
Jessie laughed and stopped to pick up the robe from the floor. “Here. Use this for now,” she said, making Darien suddenly aware she was wearing nothing more than bruises and a thong. “Zoey dropped off some clothes for you earlier. I’ll leave something out on the bed for when you’ve finished your shower.”
“Thanks.”
Intention was fine, but moving proved to be an entirely different thing. The first step had Darien unsuccessfully trying to stifle a groan.
“Darien?”
“It’s okay. Just stayed too long in bed without moving. I can do this. We just need to move slowly until I loosen up a bit.” Ideally, after she closed her eyes and rested. For maybe a week.
“No problem. We’ll take it as slow as you want.”
Jessie offered her arm again, and Darien accepted it gratefully, leaning on her and absorbing the comfort of Jessie’s strength as they moved across the room. Her body was stiff, but as she began to move it became easier.
“Will the ink wash off in the shower?”
Darien gave a quick head shake. “No. Not right away. It usually takes about a month or so to fade.”
“That’s too bad, in a way. It’s quite beautiful.”
“I’ll let Zoey know you said so.”
“Zoey did all your body art?”
“She’s really quite talented. It was actually her idea to have the ink be part of Ari’s evolving persona, and there’s something to it because, for whatever reason, it seems to help me slip into character.”
Jessie remained silent, her eyes on the coiled cobra.
“Maybe she’ll do one for you.”
“Maybe.” She angled her head up, barely meeting her gaze. “Are you sure you can manage the shower on your own?”
Darien’s lips tugged at the corners as a rather provocative image suddenly danced across her mind. She felt the room shift around her and caught herself staring at Jessie. Looking past the sun-streaked blond hair spiked by careless combing and badly in need of a cut. Beyond the warm eyes and the familiar features that called Grace to mind, to where she could see a quiet strength that was entirely Jessie’s.
The discovery pleased her even as she wondered what it meant.
*
The change happened so fast Jessie almost missed it. An infinitesimal tensing of Darien’s body. And then something charged and edgy in Darien’s expression had Jessie’s skin tingling as Darien’s eyes swept ove
r her face.
Incapable of doing anything else, she remained motionless, while seconds ticked by. As if to test them both, she shifted her gaze, met Darien’s eyes and held them. But as she felt everything else start to fall away, she found herself taking a step back.
“I make you nervous,” Darien said.
Jessie felt her face grow warm and thought about lying. Denying. But as she’d yet to recover her breath, she chose instead to say nothing.
Darien stared at her a heartbeat longer. Long enough that she had to know she was making her uncomfortable. “Good,” she murmured, then turned, stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Jessie was left battling a desire to flee. The hotel suite, with its two bedrooms and comfortable sitting area, was quite large. But as she stared at the door, she suddenly felt confined. Caged.
Darien, she realized tiredly, was proving to be both a lure and a threat to her sanity. She was clearly capable of making her mood shift from nervous to annoyed to concerned to sexually aroused and back again in the blink of an eye. Jessie was finding the process exhilarating, exhausting, and nerve-racking all rolled into one.
Closing her eyes, a stark memory ripped through her, and for an instant all Jessie could see was the angry tattooed giant standing in the cage. She could see him reaching for Darien with his mammoth hands. Lifting her off her feet and squeezing the breath from her lungs before throwing her hard to the canvas.
As the horror of the image faded, it took all of Jessie’s willpower not to shudder. Darien was so damned lucky she had come away with only a concussion and bruises. The fight with Cyborg could so easily have left her with broken ribs, a shattered cheekbone, a fractured skull. Or something much worse, she thought, as she remembered what Zoey had said. Another concussion could cause permanent brain damage or even kill you.