I paused, and Kalif heard the hesitation. “Just get out of there, Jory. He’ll be fine.”
“Probably,” I said. He was breathing, but his breaths seemed shallower. Slower than they had been before.
Crap.
Maybe I had given him too much.
“Jory,” Kalif said. “Come on.”
“He can’t move,” I said. I climbed up into the window well. “I’m outside the window now. I’ll be able to escape long before he can get to me.”
I heard footsteps in the grass and looked up to see Kalif standing above me. We checked hands.
The man on the bed still wasn’t moving. I couldn’t be sure if I’d got the dosage exactly right. He could wake up in the next few minutes, or never. If his breathing stopped, what would I do? CPR? Call an ambulance and split?
Kalif hung up the phone. “I still think we should go,” he said above me.
He was probably right. A shifter whose cover is compromised can be more dangerous than a cornered bear. And a guy who thought he had muscles that big probably had the body density to back it up.
But even a body builder would take a while to break through the bed and get out of those cuffs. I was already through the window. We had a car right behind me. I had plenty of time to run.
When I didn’t move or respond, Kalif sighed. “You think he’s going to talk to us, after you did that to him?”
He wasn’t likely to be forthcoming, that was for sure. But I’d only tied him to the bed; it was Mel who probably shot this guy in the knee. Maybe he’d be willing to team up against him. Maybe we’d finally have someone else who’d work on our side, besides Kalif and me.
And all logic aside, I wanted to talk to this guy.
Stupid as it might be, I was curious.
“I’ve got to find out who he is,” I said.
Kalif gave another belabored sigh. “I’m starting the car,” he said. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
It took five more agonizing minutes before the man stirred. His good leg kicked in the air, tossing off more of his blanket, revealing his boxers beneath. He sighed and deflated again, and I was worried he might just go back to sleep.
But he pulled his arm toward his face, and met resistance from the cuffs.
And his eyes popped open.
Sixteen
The man in the bed squinted at the window. And though it was senseless—he was chained to the bed, for goodness’ sake—I still felt like climbing out of the window well and running.
“Hi,” I said. “I, um, know this looks bad. But I swear I’m not here to hurt you.”
The guy on the bed looked confused, and then he pulled harder on his arms. The definition of his muscles stayed the same, and there was a grace to his movements that I wouldn’t have expected from someone that buff. His eyes were dark to match his hair, and even confused, he sort of smoldered.
This guy wasn’t just ripped. He was seriously hot.
And he might have been disoriented, but not confused enough to shift right in front of me. When the cuffs didn’t give way, his eyes widened. I could tell he was trying to get out of them by adjusting the size of his wrists—a detail so subtle a normal person would have missed it—but to no avail. Then he looked down at the cylinder of sedation drugs, still resting on the edge of the bed.
His voice was thick with sleep. “If you wanted to hurt me,” he said. “I’d already be dead.”
That was the truth.
Then the guy on the bed did something I didn’t see coming.
He cracked a smile. “So,” he said. “Is this your personal fantasy, or are we waiting for someone else?”
Fantasy? My cheeks burned. “Um, no,” I said. “It’s not like that.”
His smile faded slightly. “Aw. You sure know how to disappoint a guy.”
I bit the inside of my lips. The seductive commentary smacked a little of Mel. If I hadn’t been absolutely sure I’d rendered this guy unconscious, it would have terrified me.
I caught a glimpse of movement above me and looked to find Kalif pressed against the wall, out of the guy’s eye line. I could still hear the car running behind me, but Kalif had no doubt had enough of waiting. I couldn’t blame him for that, but the timing was unfortunate. One glance at the sour look on his face told me he’d heard exactly what the guy had said to me.
I couldn’t blame him for being pissed, either. Not only was the guy propositioning me—a bold move for a shifter who was already handcuffed to a bed—but a move like that echoed all the things Kalif hated about his father.
I turned my focus back to my captive. Now that he was awake, it was time to question him. But if he was going to start friendly, I was going to follow his lead.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He actually looked amused. “You chained me to a bed to ask me my name? Ever try a knock on the door?”
He kicked the rest of the blanket off the bed, lying back in just his boxers. If I hadn’t been certain he was unconscious before, I wouldn’t have believed his physique could be real. His muscles were perfectly sculpted beneath his bronze skin.
I didn’t even know it was possible for a self-image to be that exaggerated.
He rolled his shoulders and lay back on the pillow, relaxing like he was keeping his arms up over his head by choice. His posture screamed casual so loudly that it had to be forced. No one was that comfortable while meeting a stranger mostly naked and chained to a bed.
Plus, by getting rid of the blanket, he’d freed up his legs for kicking if anyone came close enough. Which I wouldn’t.
I relaxed back against the window well, trying to match him, though it turned out to be somewhat more difficult to look comfortable while crouched inside a window well than while lying on a bed, handcuffs or no.
“Maybe I’ll try the knock next time,” I said. “But here we are.”
“Tell me your name and I’ll give you mine,” he said.
Kalif leaned over the window well as far as he dared without coming into view of the bed.
“This is useless,” he whispered. “Let’s go.”
But I was just getting started. First I reached for a name. “Alice,” I said. Dang it. The “A" theme was definitely a habit. My dad would be so disappointed.
“Call me Damon.” He gave me a smile that looked both practiced and seductive. I was glad Kalif couldn’t see that.
I didn’t have to look up to feel Kalif glaring at me. There was value in playing Damon’s game, but he was right to be worried. The longer I let him toy with me, the more time I gave him to turn the situation to his advantage.
“Damon,” I said. “I’m sure that’s not your real name, but at least I know that’s your real face.”
Damon’s smile faltered and his eyes darted back to the container of anesthetic. “Yeah,” he said. “About that. Leaves a guy to wonder why he hasn’t been gagged and thrown into the back of a van.”
I swallowed. That’s exactly what the Carmines had done to my parents.
But then, it was probably what a lot of kidnappers did. His bringing it up was a coincidence.
“I just want to talk,” I said.
Damon shook his head at me. “Tell Wendy Carmine I don’t care how many of her goons she sends after me. I wouldn’t join her before, and I won’t join her now. Throw me in a van if you wish. Nothing is going to change.”
My eyes widened. Damon knew the Carmines? And he didn’t want to work with them? If he’d already refused them once, he must be on the run, like us. “I don’t work for Wendy Carmine either,” I said.
Damon smiled. “Are you sure? She’s got other names and faces. Did you knock her out?”
I’d known Aida long before Wendy, and Kalif knew them both. I might be cooperating with Aida, but that wasn’t the same as working for the Carmines.
“I don’t work for them,” I said again. “You’re running from them, too?”
Damon rolled his eyes. “Obviously not very well. This has Carmine writt
en all over it.” Damon looked at me, his face guarded. He’d probably always felt that way, but now he was showing it.
One of us had to drop the act, or we were never going to get anywhere. And since I was the one who’d chained him to a bed, the onus was on me.
I had to share something, but nothing that he could use to get at me, Kalif, or my mom.
“I would never work for the Carmines,” I said. “They killed my father.”
Damon chuckled. “Prepare to die.”
My heart skipped a beat. I started to stand, but he waved his fingers at me. “Sorry. The Princess Bride? Ever seen it?” He hesitated, and then his smile faded. “Never mind. It wasn’t a threat. Though you drugged me while I was asleep, which means if it was, you’d have deserved it. Am I right?” He waited for me to respond, and when I didn’t, he sighed. “The joke would have been funnier if you were lying about your old man.”
I crouched back down, and then stuck my legs back inside the window and sat on the sill. Damon couldn’t reach me from here, but hopefully I looked friendlier.
Damon’s face grew serious. “If you’re not working for them, what are you doing here?”
Valid question. “I was looking for someone else, and I found you, instead.”
He nodded, openly studying me now. At least we were moving past the pretenses. “You followed me from the doctor’s office.”
“I did.”
He swore. “I knew that was going to come back to bite me.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “But that was the point, wasn’t it? You jack up my knee and then you use it to trace me. Did you give me the infection, too? Some kind of contaminated bullet?”
I stared at him. So we were right about Mel. I wondered if Mel had engineered a way to infect Damon with the antibiotic resistant bacteria, or if that had just been a stroke of good luck. It seemed like the friction from the gun would destroy anything that could breed inside the wound, but I was no expert.
I looked down at Damon’s bandaged knee. It relaxed against the mattress, but I bet even with the infection he could kick me in the face. A shifter didn’t have to work out to look like they had muscles like that, but they sure did if they wanted their body to think they had them, and if they wanted to build enough muscle density to make them more than a facade. “I know who did that to you,” I said. “But it wasn’t me.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “Right. And next you’ll tell me that’s your real face.”
“Of course it isn’t,” I said. “And if you think I’m going to get close enough to you to get drugged to prove it to you then you must be new at this.”
Damon’s smile returned. He cocked his head at me. “Aw, come on? Pretty please?”
I considered him. The teasing was probably a ploy to put me at ease. I’d already seen his home body, so he couldn’t use his persona to fool me into thinking he didn’t look dangerous, so he was going to do it through demeanor instead. He was trying to play me in a way that I hadn’t even begun to play him. I’d drugged the guy, and he was still one up on me.
On the other hand, anyone who pictured themselves with that much muscle was probably chronically overconfident. Maybe I could use that against him.
“Why are you running from the Carmines?” I asked. “You look like you could take them.”
Damon rolled his shoulders back, displaying his chest. I was extra glad Kalif was staying out of sight. “Why?” His body shifted slightly, in a way that would have been imperceptible to a person who didn’t know what they were looking for. “You like what you see?”
Ugh. Kalif might not be able to see, but he could hear. He shifted impatiently above me, but he didn’t hiss at me to leave again. Maybe he saw where I was going with this, or maybe he was just waiting to yell at me later.
Either way, I had to make this count.
“You’d better hope you can take them,” I said. “Because if I can follow you, others will, too.”
Disappointment crossed Damon’s face, and he scowled down at his leg. “Yeah. Whose fault is that?”
“The man I’m hunting,” I said. “I’m guessing you tried to track him yourself, after he shot you?”
Damon winked at me. “Of course,” he said. “Unlock the cuffs, and I’ll show you everything.”
I rolled my eyes. If every shifter had one strength, this guy’s would be innuendo.
Trouble was, there was no way to be sure that he only had one.
“Tell me where to find him,” I said.
Damon flexed his arm muscles, which bulged against the headboard, though I noticed he was leaving his wrists slim. “Honey,” he said. “If I knew where to find him, do you think there’d be anything left of him to find?”
I was pretty sure he was shifting his muscles to be even bigger than his subconscious built them, but I got the point. Either he didn’t have any information for me, or he was being evasive.
Two could play at that game. “Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks anyway. Good luck getting out of those cuffs.”
I stood up and began to climb out of the window well.
“Wait!” he called.
I smiled, and crouched back down. “Remember something?”
Damon gave me an earnest look. “I have an address. But he hasn’t been there in weeks.”
I pretended to consider that. “Hmm. I don’t think it’s enough to get you out of those cuffs.”
Damon gave an exaggerated shrug. Or maybe it really took that much effort, with his arms chained over his head. “That’s what I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” I said. “And I’ll call you an ambulance once we’re gone. You can figure out how to explain the sedative.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell them some crazy girl drugged and chained me. It’s close enough to the truth.”
“What makes you think I’m a girl?” I asked.
Damon smirked. “What makes you think it matters?”
My cheeks turned pink, and above me Kalif gave another exaggerated sigh. We could all shift our genders, of course. So literally, it didn’t matter. But those first years of life when we couldn’t shift gave us basic gender identities.
That mattered a lot. To some of us, at least.
“Give me the address now,” I said. “Or this crazy girl is going to leave you here to rot.”
Damon smiled. “I don’t have it memorized. It’s in my phone.” He gestured toward the floor with his good foot. “Black jeans. Back pocket.”
His phone. I should have searched for and taken that while he was still unconscious. I looked down at the black jeans. They were tucked under the edge of the bed—if I wanted to reach them with my hands, I’d have to come within range of his feet.
Damon smiled at my hesitation.
“What?” he asked. “Scared of me?”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Wouldn’t you be?”
He feigned innocence. “I’m entirely at your mercy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Where’d you get the ego?”
Damon’s smile widened. “What ego?”
I shook my head. “Look at you. You’re built like a Greek god. What’s up with that?”
Damon looked down at his body, and I swear his muscles got even bigger. “I appreciate the admiration.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t appreciate it too much. I could be a fifty-year-old man, for all you know.”
He laughed. “Like I said. What makes you think it would matter?”
Above me, Kalif basically growled.
I sighed. This was getting me nowhere, except in deep trouble.
“How do I know your phone is even in those pants?” I asked. “It’s probably a ploy so you can kick me in the face.”
Damon shook his bad leg. “Hey, I’m wounded. An invalid, even.”
I snorted. He was far from it. “I saw you walking around earlier, even with your festering wound.”
He grunted. “It’s not festering. You make me sound repulsive.”
This
had moved past strategy. I couldn’t help baiting this guy. He practically begged for it. “Infected then. That’s just as bad.”
“Hey,” Damon said. “Not my fault you attacked me before my knee healed. But, hey. Whatever you’re into.”
“I’m into not getting kicked in the face.”
Damon laughed. “Honey, I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t mess up a face like yours.”
I smirked. “You already know it isn’t my real face.”
Damon pretended to consider that. “You’re right. If your real face is half as attractive as that one you’re wearing, I will never let you go.”
“Come on,” Kalif whispered. “Let’s go.” He was getting louder, like he cared less and less if Damon heard. But I didn’t dare look up at him. I still didn’t want Damon to know he was there, in case things got complicated and we needed to take him by surprise.
If he did hear, Damon didn’t let on. “Hey, if you want the address, come on in. It’s not like I can do much to you—I’m sure you’ve got a cell phone full of pictures of my home face that you’re just waiting to shove at me when it suits you. They’ve got to be backed up in six places by now, am I right? Available to all the people you work with. So come on in and get what you came for.”
I hesitated. Pictures of his face was another precaution I’d missed. “I can take the lead and go. Unless—"
I could see Kalif shooting me dagger eyes in the corner of my vision.
He wasn’t going to like this next part, but Damon was looking at me with what might be interest.
“Unless you’re looking to team up against the Carmines.”
Kalif slumped against the side of the building, like he was giving up on trying to whisper sense into me.
That was probably good, all things considered.
Damon gave a loud laugh. It didn’t sound bitter or rehearsed, so he was either a really good actor, or he actually found that funny. “Girl,” he said. “If you think you can beat them, you’re welcome to try. But now that you’ve found me I think I’ll watch the train wreck from the Caribbean.”
“I thought you were worried about them tracking you down.”
A Million Shadows Page 14