"Warren, where the hell's my evac!"
"Thirty seconds."
She could hear the hum of the transport now.
"South building, balcony."
"I've got your signal."
The transport hummed in over the wall and positioned itself in a hover next to the railing where they were. The door slid open, and Warren parted the vine to see them. He didn't seem surprised that it was Stone who'd been hurt.
"What do you need?"
"Stretcher, foam—do you have an IV set up?"
"And oxygen," he said as he ducked back into the transport to appear a moment later with foam and a floating stretcher. Swinging nimbly over the railing, he crouched with them over Stone. "Just couldn't wait to get himself into trouble again, could he?"
"He thrives on it, damn him," Mea muttered between clenched teeth as she applied the foam like a cradle under his torso. "Sugar, I'm going to need you to shove the stretcher under him as we lift him up."
Wiping tears off her face and straightening resolutely, Regan nodded and climbed to her feet. They lifted him with care, and Regan slipped the stretcher under him quickly.
Mike returned as Warren was maneuvering the stretcher across the railing. "What do you want me to do with them?"
Mea spared Mike a quick glance while helping Regan over the railing. He looked grim. Once the girl was in the transport and out of hearing range, she turned back. "At this point I don't give a damn. But if he dies—" She pressed her lips together to stop the rest of that sentence. There were people close by and for Uncle Mike's sake, she didn't want them to hear what violence she planned on committing.
"Understood, Hunter. Just be sure he lives."
With a sharp nod, she vaulted the railing, hitting the door panel closed and moving to where Warren was strapping in the stretcher. "I've got this. Get us out of here."
Turning away, he slipped into the pilot's seat as she finished securing the stretcher and set about putting an IV into Stone's arm. Regan was standing at his head, watching him intently.
"You won't sit down and strap in, will you."
The girl shook her head without looking up.
"Then I'll have to put you to work."
Mea gave her gauze to put pressure on the split at his temple and to clean off as much blood as she could. Regan took her duty very seriously and was so intent on it that she kept knocking his oxygen tube away from his nose. Mea would put it back every time without comment, monitoring his IV and pulse carefully. It might have been her imagination, but his pulse seemed to be weaker.
"ETA, Warren?"
"Almost there. I've got it wide open."
She could feel the deep thrumming of the engine in her heels.
"Good."
A few minutes later when she felt them landing, Mea unstrapped the stretcher and got ready to move. Regan opened the door panel without being told, and they hurried Stone from the docking bay down the corridor to the infirmary.
Of course, Ema had something to say about it. "Not again! What is with you people—" She stopped short, scanning as they lifted him onto the table. Her tone flattened ominously. "Why is he not in a hospital? He's got a punctured lung, a kidney that's going to need full regeneration—"
"Stop with the gory details!" Mea flashed a quick, concerned look to Regan. The girl was crying again silently. "Just tell me if you can fix him."
"Well, yes, but it's going to take a lot longer—"
"Then shut up and get busy!"
"Fine, but when he wakes up and starts bitching, I will not take the blame. What the hell has this man been up to? On top of everything else, he's got a sunburn."
"He doesn't get out much," Mea muttered, running a soothing hand over Regan's head.
"So what happened?" Warren asked quietly.
"Job."
"Really? What got him so riled up?"
"I humiliated him in front of everyone."
"Asked you to marry him again, huh?"
"Yup."
"Hmm. He never did like competition."
Shaking his head, Warren left, and Mea pulled Regan into her arms. They held each other and watched as Ema began the long process of putting Stone back together.
Chapter 16
Stone woke up slowly, which was strange. Survival demanded that when he slept, he slept light and when he woke up, he did it fast. He felt heavy with sleep, and groggy. When he opened his eyes and saw the dim golden glow above his head, he realized that Ema must've drugged him. He just couldn't remember why. Disoriented, he turned his head and tried to see beyond the table. The light wasn't bright enough to hurt his eyes, but it did make focusing hard.
Eventually, he could see that the other two tables had been activated. There was a small lump on one that was probably the kid and Mea was sitting at the other one, head cradled on her arms and eyes closed. It was seeing her and seeing the short black dress she was still wearing that brought it back. He stiffened at the memory of the three hunters attacking, and the memory of their leader, her ex-husband, whispering to him as he lay beaten and bloody, "She's mine."
He should have used his knife. Promises were promises, though, and he'd given Mea his word to be good. Not that that should count when faced with three trained lethal weapons. He'd given it his best shot but god, every blow had felt like a sledgehammer. That damned metal on their bones had put a hell of a jolt behind each hit. He might have stood a chance if it had just been one—which was why the fucker had brought friends.
His mouth twisted when he thought of Job Hammond, but not because of the unfairness of what he'd done—Stone's whole life had been unfair, and it was so ingrained that he didn't question it. It was the words "be my wife" that made him want to get up off the table and take him on again. He hadn't been pleased when Mea and that bastard had walked over his way or when the jackass had started spewing all that sappy shit, but when he'd said those words, suddenly Stone had found himself at the railing, gripping it white-knuckled. He'd barely been able to keep from jumping down and ripping the man's spine out. That savage possessiveness scared the hell out of him. It meant it might already be too late—he was going to be her stooge no matter what.
The last bit of grogginess left him with that thought, and he made to roll off the table. That was when he found out he couldn't move anything but his head.
"Be still," Ema whispered in his ear, but he ignored her, struggling against the force that held him down. "I said, be still! It's a force field."
"Let me up," he growled, and saw Mea stir out of the corner of his eye.
"Shhh. You'll wake Regan," she murmured softly and rubbed her eyes, shoulders slumping wearily.
"Call off your AI, Hunter."
Sending him an exasperated look, she stood up, running a hand through her dark hair. Glancing toward the still sleeping girl, she approached him. She was moving stiffly like she still felt the wound on her side. Leaning on the table at about the level of his chest, she looked down at him, a hand on her hip. "You have internal injuries that are difficult to heal. Ema can't do it all at once or your body would have a meltdown. You're being restrained to keep you from hurting yourself. I'm sorry if you feel like I'm keeping you prisoner, but I know you. If I let you up, you're going to head straight for the door, probably killing yourself in the process."
He tensed experimentally. "There's no pain."
"The miracle of drugs."
He lifted his head and looked down at himself. Besides the fact that he was naked except for a sheet over his lower half, he could see nothing wrong. "I'll be fine. Let me up."
Closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed deeply. "Don't you want to know about Regan?"
"I want to leave."
Eyes stormy, she looked down at him again and snapped in a hard tone, "Yes, I know, it's what you're good at. But you can't just now, so ask me about her."
They glared at each other for a long moment. Stone really did want to know, though. He'd been baffled by their
behavior at the wake. Regan had practically glowed with happiness, and Mea had watched her so protectively.
"Fine. What's with the kid? Why isn't she gone yet?"
"She's not gone because she's home. I adopted her. She's my daughter." A slow smile lit her face like a sunrise.
"What? What the fuck is wrong with you, woman! Why don't I just take her back to the slam with me, for Christ's sake! She'd be—"
Mea slapped a hand over his mouth with an angry hiss, but watched the kid, not him. He heard Regan groan and shift around before settling back down. Only when she was quiet did Mea remove her hand and look down at him, speaking in a low, furious tone, "I don't give a shit if you want to yell at me all night, but you wake her up and I'll re-break all those bones Ema just fixed! In case you've forgotten, that child has had to deal with not one, but two homicidal lunatics trying to kill her and losing her only family in the process! Not to mention having to deal with your sorry ass leaving her every other goddamned day. She's been worrying herself sick over you, so you keep your voice down and let her sleep or by god you'll wish Job had finished the job!"
Maybe it was a good thing he was restrained. The green fire in her eyes was doing crazy things to his insides, and he had to look away to be able to speak. God only knew what he'd be doing just now if he had his hands free to touch her.
"She doesn't belong with you, Hunter. You're gonna get her killed."
"I disagree and so does Child Security." She leaned back a bit, folding her arms and studying him with a glitter in her eyes that he didn't like. "I understand how you feel, though. You've been waiting around to protect her until she's gone, but now she's not going. What's a guy to do?"
His muscles tightened with anger, and he glared up at her through Ema's golden glow. "Is that why you did it? To keep me here?"
She bit off an exclamation and rubbed her temples, audibly gritting her teeth. "You are the most god-awful, paranoid, stubborn man I've ever met!" She dropped her hands to her hips and stared down at him. "No, I didn't adopt Regan to keep you here. I love her. Her family couldn't take her, and she wanted to be with me. I'm sorry if you have a problem with that, but it's a done deal."
Instinctively, he knew she was telling the truth. He could see it in her eyes. Clenching his jaw, he looked away, focusing on one of Ema's mechanical extensions above him. "Why'd you bring me here?"
"If I had taken you to a regular hospital, there would have been questions, inquiries, an investigation…"
She didn't finish, but he could see where that would lead. He nodded, and they both fell silent while Stone mulled over his current situation. Leaving was his only option. He'd wanted to stick around until Regan was safe, but it was way past time for him to give the kid up. He wanted no part of what Mea had in mind for him, but his avenue of escape was getting narrower and narrower.
Survival was not a choice—it was a way of life for him. Never giving up the fight for freedom was how he had survived fifteen years in the hole. He'd known others who'd folded and got sucked into the institution so far that freedom was no longer a dream for them—it was a nightmare. He'd refused to be one of them and had come out the other side, into a cage of a different kind.
He was afraid that he was starting to like this cage.
"You know, it occurs to me," Mea murmured in a tone that sent a stab of alarm through him, "that you owe me another life. And I don't think a promise is going to be enough this time."
Heavy lidded and smoky, her eyes traveled down the length of him. Instantly he was on fire, all the muscles in his body going rigid.
"A kiss isn't too much of a price to pay, is it?" Her eyes met his again, and his blood boiled through his veins like lava at the smile that curved her lips.
"Mea," he muttered through clenched teeth and wasn't sure if he was warning or pleading.
She leaned over him, bracing herself with one hand next to his head and ran a finger feather-light down the side of his face. Her silky hair drifted down to surround him in a dark, sweet smelling curtain. She filled his vision and his senses, and he thought if he couldn't touch her, he'd go crazy.
"I know you," she sighed as she touched sparks on his skin. "You'll curse me for taking advantage of you later, so I'll give you an out. All you have to do is tell me—no. Stop. Don't."
With each word she eased closer until the last was whispered against his lips. Just that easily she shredded his self-control. With a groan like a man lost, he lifted his head and took her mouth with his, thoughts of escape disappearing like smoke in the wind. He was filled with her taste and smell—she was heaven, and the purring sound she made in the back of her throat made him mindless with the need to be inside her.
He kissed her with a savagery that she returned in spades, nails digging like goads in the back of his neck. His heart was thudding so heavily in his chest that his whole body vibrated with it, and he knew that if he couldn't touch her he was going to explode.
"Stop! You have to stop. His heart rate and blood pressure are at dangerous levels. Get off him, Mea!"
He barely understood the AI, only knowing that Mea was pulling away from him, and he groaned miserably.
"God, I'm sorry!" she gasped and shoved away from the table.
"Mea," he muttered, knowing this time he was pleading. Begging. His eyes tried to track her, but she was gone, the infirmary door closing behind her. He struggled to follow, muscles bunching against the force that held him down. Torture would have been fun next to this.
"Let me up!" he growled, but Ema didn't respond. He didn't feel the prick of the needle, but the anesthetic that she gave him was almost instantaneous, yanking him ruthlessly down into darkness.
Chapter 17
Stone woke up alone the next time. Ema's golden light was still dim, but low lights had been turned on in the rest of the room, and he flinched away from them, shading his eyes with one hand before he realized that he could move it. The thought that he'd been released goaded him into trying to sit up quickly, only to stop as shooting pain stabbed through his chest and abdomen.
"Take it easy," Ema said in an expressionless voice. "Your clothes and goggles are at the end of the table."
Moving with more caution, he sat up and paused to take stock in his condition. He felt weak, with a dull throbbing in his chest and stomach. His left arm ached deeply around the elbow, and his hands were stiff. With slow movements, he slid off the table and began to dress, his memory of the previous night slowly crystallizing. When he remembered Mea's kiss, he had to lean against the table for a moment, snarling silently at the empty room.
He was just as angry at his own weakness as he was at her actions. He could have said no. Stop. Don't. He finished dressing roughly to hide the shaking of his hands. Just as he was putting on his goggles, the door slid open and Regan swung in, followed by Mea and Conley.
"Stone!" the kid yelled and charged across the room to collide with him painfully, thin arms squeezing his aching middle.
He grimaced but didn't move away.
"Regan! Don't break him. We just got him fixed."
"Oh, sorry! Sorry. You okay?" she asked him anxiously, patting the air over his chest like that would make it better.
He spoke around the bands of pain wrapping his chest and abdomen, "I'll live."
"Ema can give you another pain killer."
Mea's voice made the muscles tighten at the back of his neck. "I'm fine!" he snarled with open hostility, and Regan took a large step back, eyebrows raised.
"He's a little cranky, Mom."
"I see that, babe."
They eyed him with identical expressions of cool speculation, and Stone ground his teeth, ready to strangle someone. Conley volunteered.
"About last night, Stone—"
Stone took a slow step towards the older man, letting his muscles loosen in readiness. In his condition, he knew the older hunter would probably put him on the floor, but at this point he didn't care. Conley was a fighter, though, and could read his body la
nguage—he took a step back, holding up one hand.
"Look, when you're better I'll let you hit me a few times, but right now you're not up to it. I just came here to apologize for my hunters."
Stone took another step forward. Conley took another back.
"They're all on suspension, and I've got them going through a brutal reconditioning program right now."
Another step.
"Damn it, man, I need to talk to you about—"
Stone kept coming.
"Stubborn son-of-a-bitch. Okay, he's all yours, Mea."
Conley left to Stone's keen disappointment. He turned his head to see that Mea had activated another table and she and the kid were both sitting on it, watching him like he was some kind of show. Both looked tolerantly amused. It didn't help his mood any.
"Feel better?" Mea asked cheerfully, and Regan snickered.
"Poor Grandpa."
Stone felt like an animal with his foot caught in a trap and began pacing stiffly back and forth.
"Apparently not. Regan, honey, will you go get him something to eat?"
"Mom, why don't you just ask me to leave so you guys can talk?"
"Regan, honey, would you leave so we can talk?"
"'Kay."
They both grinned, and Stone felt his skin tighten at the obvious affection between them. Regan slid off the table and started for the door, but paused just inside it.
"You're not going to run off while I'm gone getting food again, are you?"
He continued pacing without answering, and she left.
"All right, you can start shouting now."
Stone stopped pacing at Ema's table and placed his hands flat on the surface, leaning on them and staring down at the table blindly. Here he was, in a room alone with her again. Shouting would be a bad idea. That meant losing control, and he knew where that was going to lead. What the hell was he still doing here? He needed to leave. Now. Pushing away from the table, he swung around—only to find that Mea had placed herself in front of the door. She shook her head at him.
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