If the guys said anything to her, she couldn’t hear it, the ringing in her ears still sounding like the sedan’s tires.
They halted her at the front of the Charger, both men cursing. She blinked and fought for clarity, and the ringing in her ears faded, fog clearing from her skull. She tilted toward the car, desperate for the metal, but the guy holding her arm yanked her back a few feet, well away from both vehicles. He cursed again and pressed his free hand against his side, hunching as if to protect injured ribs.
“What are we gonna do now?” Trust-Fund Guy limped over to further block her access to the Charger.
“Change the friggin’ tire, you idiot.”
“How? We’re blocking the road. Someone’s gonna call the cops if we take the time to fix it. And we’ve got to get her out of here.”
“Figure it out, asshole!” The fingers around Riley’s arm tightened. Strength trickled into her biceps and shoulder, and she realized he wore two rings on that hand, the metal making contact with her skin. She scanned the rest of him for any additional metal that might feed her body.
“Move the fucking car across the street!” he yelled at the other guy, who stood scratching his head. “We’ll take her car.”
Oh, hell, no. Nick was going to be pissed enough at the damage. He’d go berserk if she let them steal his car. She stumbled, the motion swinging her around to the front of her captor, and she clutched him for balance. Her fingers closed over his belt buckle. A slight bit of energy filled her, and when his partner turned to see what was happening, she lashed out with a rear kick to the side of his knee.
He shouted and fell. Riley dropped, pulling the other guy down with her by his belt. He flailed, letting go of her and removing contact with the rings, but she had momentum on her side and a few of the tricks John had taught her. She swung her legs up and back, pushing him over her head. He landed in a heap on the ground, unhurt but vulnerable when she scrambled to her feet and spun to kick him. The glancing blow to his skull only had her normal strength behind it, but he curled onto his side and didn’t move.
Riley hurried to the passenger door of the Charger and clambered in, throwing herself over the gearshift to the driver’s seat. The damaged car was still running but groaned when she put it in gear and tried to pull away from the sedan that had T-boned it. She had to steer right, along the shoulder, and then swing left to go around the wreck and the man shouting at her. He limped after her as she fled while his friend still lay on the ground.
Riley forced the tension out of her hands and shoulders, loosening her grip on the wheel and shifting to get more comfortable in her seat. She was okay. She was only ten minutes from help, and those guys couldn’t follow her now.
But her energy level drained rapidly. She could barely see the white line on the shoulder. The sun reflecting off the barrier between lanes bleached out everything around her. The GPS instructions came from far away, and she risked letting go of the wheel to bump up the volume dial on the side. Twice she took a left instead of a right and had to backtrack. Her mouth was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof, and her lips burned as if chapped raw. She could feel herself fading toward unconsciousness and had to force herself to concentrate.
And then there it was ahead of her, at the end of a sandy lane, a cottage on stilts right on the beach. She pulled into the driveway, idling up along the side of the house. Brake to a stop. Put it in park. Shut off the engine. Open the door. She put one leg out and fell the rest of the way onto the ground.
The last thing she saw before it all went black was Sam. She was safe.
Chapter Fourteen
Our centuries-old purpose is funded by and founded on trust. The men who dedicated their lives to forming the Protectorate ensured our mission would never be compromised due to a lack of sufficient income. It is our duty to ensure the integrity of the Protectorate remains as strong.
—The Protectorate, Mission Manual
Riley woke, lying on her side, in a dark room. Awareness came slowly, her brain sluggish and sore. Her last memory was falling out of the car after the near-abduction on the highway. She looked around, moving just her eyes. The dark room was a bedroom. Soft bed, velvety quilt under her, light and homey scent in the room. Like vanilla and icing, not perfume. No place she’d ever been before.
The closed door muffled loud voices. Riley couldn’t hear any words but recognized Sam, Quinn, and Nick yelling at each other. She must be at Chloe’s. A switch clicked behind her. The room dimmed, and Riley rolled onto her back to see an older woman emerge from an en suite bathroom. She smiled at Riley and raised the window shade next to the bed. Sunshine didn’t pour directly in but filled the room with light.
“What’s going on?” Riley croaked as she sat up. Her head throbbed, and clusters of muscles in her neck and back spasmed. She moaned and put her hand to the back of her head.
“To convey the obvious, Nick’s in the stratosphere over his car. Sam thinks the way you arrived means someone’s after you, and he wants everyone out of here ten minutes ago. He alternates that with threatening Nick if he threatens you. Quinn’s a little riled after the transfer, so she’s irritated at both of them and yelling at them to chill. And I’m Chloe. It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled and held out a hand.
Riley shook it, wincing both at what she’d been told and at the pain of moving. “How long was I out?”
“Just a few minutes. I did a diagnostic, but I didn’t try to heal you yet. That’s another thing they’re fighting over. Quinn wanted to do it, but Nick refuses to let her, and Sam says Quinn can make her own decisions. Which,” she added, leaning forward conspiratorially, “is being contrary, because Quinn’s definitely not up to it yet, but Sam’s in a right state about your condition.”
“Okay. Um…” Riley wasn’t sure where to start. The transfer seemed a good place. “It worked, then? You’re whole?”
Fine lines in the corners of Chloe’s eyes crinkled, and they shone with enthusiasm. “Oh, yeah. I’m ready to take on the world. I’m fresh, and basic healing was always one of my abilities.” Her expression turned earnest. “But all I’ve had time to do so far is toss a few muffins.” She mimed throwing a baseball. “I feel normal, but I have no idea what will happen when I try to use it. So I wasn’t going to do anything without your permission.”
Riley needed to assess her own condition first. She swung her legs around, bending her knees to avoid kicking Chloe where she squatted next to the bed, and gasped at the pain stabbing through her low back and right hip. She’d never hurt so much in so many places. “You said you did a diagnostic. How bad am I?”
“Slight concussion. Muscle strain in the neck, thoracic spine, and right hip,” Chloe catalogued. “A few scrapes—elbows, one hand. The wrist injuries that are a couple of days old seem mostly healed, but there are newer, similar-looking burns on the heel of one hand.”
Riley glanced down at it, now registering the sting. She hadn’t channeled energy for as long as she had with the chains, but the massive amount on that final push against the car had done its damage, too.
“I’d send you to a chiropractor,” Chloe finished, “but I can slide the spine into alignment, too, and ease those muscles faster.”
Riley nodded, as curious about the process as she was eager to get rid of the pain. This was a bigger task than when Quinn healed her forearm burns, the majority of her injuries untreatable except by time. “Go ahead. And thank you.”
Chloe closed her eyes and put her hand on top of Riley’s head. After a few seconds, the throbbing slowed, then eased, and her brain stopped crowding the inside of her skull. Chloe moved her hand to the back of Riley’s neck, then slid it slowly down her spine. As she did, the aches and sharp pains disappeared, and Riley would have sworn she even felt her vertebrae clicking into place. The skin at her elbows, wrists, and palm tickled, and when Riley checked, the flesh there was smooth and undamaged. There were still faint marks from the chains, but the healing was far more complete than what Q
uinn did the other day.
“Wow.” Riley stood. The only remnant of the “incident” was a dragging fatigue. She reached for the iron scrollwork of the headboard but froze, having to push past the instinctive fear before she touched it. It wasn’t hot—it wouldn’t hurt her unless she let it. Sure enough, when she made contact, the metal was cool and comforting. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, drinking in the refreshing energy. When she released the scrollwork, the energy settled into her. The fatigue wasn’t gone, but her body had absorbed enough to keep her going for a little while.
“Thank you.” She sank back down onto the bed. The fight still raged in the other room, and she wanted to talk to Chloe before she joined it. “How are Quinn and Sam doing after the transfer?” She deliberately named Quinn first, but Chloe gave her a knowing look.
“Not so good. Quinn’s suffering, you can tell, though she claims she felt better after it was over than she had before. She’s doing okay. Sam…” Her gray eyes darkened with concern.
Riley twisted her fingers together and tried to smooth her expression. “What happened?”
Chloe shook her head. “It made him really sick. I think he’s still a mess, but he won’t let either of us get near him, especially since he’s so worried about you.”
She’d better get out there. “Those guys who were after me—I don’t know what they want, and they might find me again. They weren’t too far away. Sam’s right, we need to leave.”
Chloe stood. “Any idea who they were?”
Riley wasn’t sure how much they should tell others about Numina, at least not until they knew more themselves. Especially since at least one of the protectors had been compromised somehow. But she also didn’t know what Chloe knew already. She’d play it coy.
“Not really.” She moved past Chloe and opened the bedroom door into a cozy living room filled with rattan furniture. The airy, pastel décor flowed into the dining room and a kitchen separated by a breakfast bar. Sam, Quinn, and Nick stood in a triangle at the junction where all the rooms came together.
Riley might as well have fired Nick’s pearl-handled pistol, the shouting cut off that abruptly when she opened the door. All three turned to stare at her. A heartbeat later, Sam had her in a hug.
Riley hadn’t realized how much she’d needed that. He surrounded her, and a completely different kind of warmth and strength suffused her. She closed her eyes and inhaled, pressing her head to his firm chest covered in a soft, long-sleeved T-shirt, and pressing her hands against his back so she could touch as much of him as possible. This had become her go-to move when she needed comfort.
“Are you okay?” His voice rumbled through her. She suppressed a shiver of desire, faint but threatening to grow.
“I’m fine. Chloe took care of me.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “Oh, Sam,” she whispered, raising her hands to the sides of his face. He looked so haggard. Red rimmed his eyes. The hollows of his cheeks were deep, sharpening his cheekbones, and under his dark hair, his pallor had a definite sickly element. “How bad is it?” She kept her voice low so the others couldn’t hear, as close as they were.
He didn’t answer, but shook his head slightly. Riley wished she knew how to heal, or at least to see what was going on inside him. She reluctantly turned back to Chloe. “Are you up to—”
“We need to get out of here,” Sam cut her off. He stepped back to include Nick and Quinn but held onto Riley’s hand. “Where’s Tom? What happened? Was it Vern again?”
“No. Not this time.” She cut her eyes toward Chloe, and Sam understood.
“Do you have somewhere you can go?” he asked her. “I don’t think they’ll be after you, but it’s better if you’re not here if they figure out where Riley went.”
Chloe shrugged. “I’ll go shopping for a couple of hours. Then I’m meeting someone for dinner.” She blushed.
“What?” Sam gaped at her. “After we planned this for today? You didn’t know if it would work, or what the aftereffects would be! Who is this guy?”
The pink rose higher on her cheeks. “Who says it’s a guy?”
Quinn rolled her eyes and stepped closer. “It’s a guy. Anyone we know?”
“No.” She met Quinn’s gaze steadily, her embarrassment already gone. “He’s the first guy I’ve dated since I was leeched. I’ve thoroughly vetted him. We only meet in public places, and he knows what I am and what I’ve been through. I’m comfortable seeing him tonight, and we can set up some kind of system so I know if it’s safe to come home, with or without him.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got some stuff in the trunk.” He glared at Riley, but it didn’t have much heat. “Assuming it’s not smashed.”
“I’m sorry—” she started, but he held up a hand.
“Not your fault. It’s just a car.” But he half choked on the last part.
“Let’s get it set up.” Sam went out the front door with Nick.
Quinn motioned to Chloe. “Let’s pack you a bag in case it’s not safe for you to come back right away.” The other woman nodded, and they disappeared into the back room.
Riley hurried after the guys down the back steps to the overgrown driveway. “Nick!” she called after him.
He looked up from the trunk where he was handing what looked like a camera bag to Sam. “What?”
“Tom was part of it. I think.” She folded her arms tightly around her middle. “I’m second-guessing myself now, but I don’t know how they could have found us otherwise.” She briefly described what had made her suspicious.
“Son of a bitch.” Nick hefted equipment out of the trunk and headed for the house again. “We need to get these cameras set up. Tell us everything. I mean every detail.”
After Chloe left the house, Riley explained everything that had happened when they reached Rhode Island and what she’d done to Tom.
“The car didn’t stop for him?” Quinn asked from her spot on the wicker loveseat. She watched Sam hand tools to Nick, who stood on a chair installing a camera in a fake plant on top of a pine hutch. “And the guys who tried to take you didn’t mention him?”
“No. You think I was wrong?” Riley asked miserably. “That I panicked?”
“Don’t know.” Nick dropped to the floor and put the chair back under the dining room table. “We’ll find out. Did you tell Tom where you were going? I mean, the address?”
“I don’t think so. But John could have.”
Rage roiled off Sam. “I want to know who the hell Numina is and how they’ve infiltrated us. And then—”
“Whoa, slow your roll, cupcake.” Nick took Quinn’s leather duffel from the sofa and helped her to her feet. “We’re not assuming anything yet. Let’s get moving before they find us here.”
They all headed outside and down the stairs.
“Where are we going?” Sam pulled open the car door to get in.
“I know a place up the road a few miles, a summer unit my dad’s family shares. No one should know about it.” Nick helped Quinn into the front seat, though to Riley’s eyes, his fiancée was in much better shape than the last time she’d seen her and was only letting him help because it made him feel better.
“Wait.” Riley dug her heels into the gravel a few feet away. She needed to be with Sam, to make sure he wasn’t alone if the aftereffects of the transfer worsened again as they had the other night. But her conscience wouldn’t let her go with them without at least trying to do the right thing. The other right thing.
“I shouldn’t go with you. I shouldn’t have even come here, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Nothing beyond getting to people who made her feel safe.
Sam spun on her. “Fuck that.”
“Listen.” She held up a hand. “If Tom didn’t call them, they’re tracking me some other way. I should lead them away so you aren’t in danger.”
“Because we’re so weak and vulnerable,” Nick snarked, and Quinn laughed. When Riley and the guys looked at her, she rolled her eyes.
&nb
sp; “Oh, please. I know this whole thing has cut me down some, but I’m not helpless. You’re not leaving,” she told Riley. “Except to come with us.”
“We’ll watch Chloe’s place tonight and deal with anyone who shows up. Then we’ll head to Tanda’s.” Nick made an impatient motion. “Get in the car.”
Well, at least she’d tried. Their reactions made her feel less guilty. She got into the back seat with Sam and sat sideways, watching through the rear window as they drove up the shoreline road.
Nick and Quinn talked quietly, personal murmurs Riley couldn’t hear without concentrating, which would be rude. Beside her in the back seat, Sam jittered his left leg up and down and beat his thumb and fingers against his thigh in an agitated rhythm.
She tilted closer until his ear was only a couple of inches away. “You okay?”
“Fine.” His head fell back against the seat, his eyes closed. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the kind of swallow you make when you’re trying not to throw up. Riley stroked her hand through his hair, fingers rubbing over his scalp. His expression eased, and he leaned into her palm. She laid her other hand on his, and he threaded their fingers, holding tight. She kept half her attention on him and the other half on the road.
A few minutes later, Nick asked, “Spot any tails?”
Riley whipped her head around. She half-expected Nick to be picking on her, but his eyes in the rearview mirror were serious.
“No,” she told him. “The few cars I saw turned off already. I checked the side streets, too,” she added. “I’m pretty sure no one is watching us. Not unless it’s from a distance.”
“Cool.” He spun the wheel to make a sudden left turn, following it with enough lefts and rights to make Riley carsick. After a couple of minutes, they roared up a long, open driveway to a humungous house on a bluff overlooking the sea.
Nick jumped out of the car to punch a code into a box next to one of the three-bay garage doors. Quinn climbed over to drive the car in next to a—Riley’s eyes bugged at the Rolls Royce beside them.
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