Page 84 of Shadow Blind

“Jesus H. Christ.” Aiden added a long step back to the torso twist, hoping to avoid a broken nose. Cosky’s summons sailed harmlessly by. “Be careful with that thing.”

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” After a quick head-to-toe scan, Cosky frowned. “You look like shit, bro.”

“So I’ve been told.” Aiden yawned. His five-hour nap obviously hadn’t done him any favors. Time to stop by the clinic.

Still frowning, Cosky stepped back. “Get your ass into some clothes. We’ve got a location on your arms dealer. Wolf has called a briefing.” A pair of black eyebrows climbed, almost disappearing into Cosky’s hairline. “I assume you want to join us?”

Aiden didn’t waste time confirming that ridiculous question. Instead, he slammed the door in his brother-in-law’s face. The clinic would have to wait. He had a briefing to go to.

He threw on a loose t-shirt, pulled on socks and his shitkicker boots, and headed for the door. Each stride felt heavy, achy. His scalp tightened beneath the pounding inside his skull. His gut gave a small but obvious heave. Just one more annoying symptom to add to his growing list of ailments. He was hot, too. Way too hot. Fever hot.

His memory rewound to those minutes on the hills above Karaveht, to the raging, insane eyes of his brothers, to rifle fire and obliterated faces.

Could these sudden symptoms be nanobot related?

The question stopped him in his tracks. No fucking way. He was sick, that was all. A flu or a cold. Maybe food poisoning. He rarely got sick—but hell—it happened every once in a triple blue moon.

The docs had found no sign of nanobot activity inside him during their endless rounds of testing. Besides, why would the bots affect him now? It was over two weeks post-Karaveht. If he’d been infected, the signs would have shown before now. Plus, these symptoms—the shakes, the queasy gut, the headache—they weren’t the ones his teammates had shown.

Still, he scowled. He’d better swing by the clinic instead of joining the rest of the boys in the conference room. If he was contagious—with anything—he couldn’t afford to infect the entire Shadow Mountain force, sure as hell not now, when they finally had a location on Kuznetsov.

“Son of a bitch!” he snarled beneath his breath.

Frustration and disgust swelled until he felt like he was about to explode. goddammit. Things were finally moving, and he was sidelined by this shit. If he knew for certain he wouldn’t infect the entire base, he’d join the briefing, regardless of how shitty he felt.

It royally sucked being responsible.

He yanked open the door again. Cosky was gone, thank Christ. Hopefully that five second conversation hadn’t transferred the crud currently ruining Aiden’s day to his brother-in-law.

Some dude in grease-stained overalls was waiting for the elevator. Aiden took the stairs, giving the guy plenty of room to avoid infecting him. As he stomped his way down the stairs, he pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his tactical pants. Missed call after missed call lit up the call log. He thumbed the number that belonged to Wolf. His big bro answered before the second ring.

“I’m headed to the clinic. I’ve either picked up some kind of crud, or those damn nanobots are late to the party. I’m not taking the chance of infecting anyone—whether I’m carrying the flu or the bots.” He grimaced at the surge of fear that accompanied the bot part of the statement.

Don’t panic…don’t think about it…it could be nothing.

Too bad his overactive heart and adrenal system refused to listen to his brain. He hesitated, then forced himself to ask the obvious question.

“You have any of those visions? One that might concern me?” Aiden asked, trying like hell to keep his voice casual.

Wolf’s silence ate the line. And then— “There have been no visions from the Shadow Warrior. Not as of recent.”

Which must mean that no, Wolf had not seen Aiden’s imminent demise. The admission would have been reassuring, except it hadn’t been Wolf who’d dreamed of that clusterfuck above Karaveht. According to Wolf and Cosky, that lucky save had come courtesy of Benioko’s warning from the elder gods.

Maybe he should have called Benioko instead of Wolf. Nah.

One level down, two more to go. He headed down the second stairwell, his head throbbing in earnest, his boot strikes a muffled thud in his ringing ears. This line of questioning wasn’t doing his headache any favors. Time to move on. “What’s the sitrep with Kuznetsov?”

“The Taounaha has located him.”

Aiden’s eyebrows flew up. He recognized the Kalikoia title for the shaman. Perhaps he hadn’t heard correctly through his ringing ears. “Benioko? He supplied the location?”

He suspected he’d heard the name just fine, though. Dammit. Now that was a surprise. An unwelcome one. Call him suspicious, but how the hell had the old man picked up the arms dealer’s scent? Did the shaman have contacts, those not godlike? Maybe everyday ordinary spooks that provided photo evidence and GPS locations?

“Yes.” The confirmation was flat. Like big bro was expecting push back. As he should.

“How the hell did he suss that out? A vision straight from the Shadow Warrior?” Aiden winced at how antagonistic he sounded. Judging by the icy silence thickening between them, his big bro didn’t appreciate the mockery. Better dial his tone back.

On the second-floor landing, bent almost double beneath the wheezing of his lungs and cramping of his muscles, he paused to catch his breath. All this agony from walking down two flights of stairs. Stairs, for Christ’s sake.

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