Page 23 of Gemini Wicked

Zara swings round and scopes out the sitch. Her panicky worry for Dez vanishes in an eyeblink as she grasps what’s gone down. Her face fires with awareness. “Oh, hell to the no. No way. Not me!”

Of course, my girl’s not down with getting whisked out of play herself.

For shit’s sake. I’m already pissed. Now my aggravation ratchets way up. That’s bad news for the big trooper who barrels into me from the side. His body mass sends me flying. I tuck and roll into the impact, then come up from the deck snarling. He’s right on top of me, but my booted foot snaps out sideways to hammer that asshole into next week. Bone cracks under the force of my side kick. The guy flies back and drops like an anvil.

I let out a satisfied growl and spin back toward the fray—

That’s when the shock stick slams into my chest.

From that other bloke I never saw coming.

The hit delivers an electric jolt that fries every cell of my body. That jolt of juice rattles my wits like peanuts rattling in a jar.

My pores crawl. A sensation like stinging bees swarms through my skin. Pretty sure smoke’s rising from my ears.

When my brain stops sizzling, I’m sprawled flat, face down on deck, limbs limp and heavy as a load of wet laundry. Basically, I’m in no state to avoid the steel-toed boot that slams into my ribs like a baseball bat.

I absorb the sickening impact with a groan.

Through blurred vision, I can just make out Xiao’s sneering face looming over me. With the fucking shock stick that hit me still swinging from his fist.

“Not such a badass now, are you, Pendragon?” he gloats down at me. “His Royal Hotness doesn’t look so hot when he’s drooling.”

Fuck, am I? My face is way too numb and tingly to tell. I’d like to sweep that asshole’s legs out from under him. But my body’s not responding.

My circuits are fried.

My bleary gaze drifts through a sea of running legs to catch a fractured glimpse of Zara kicking some royal ass. I know she’s afraid to hurl lightning in this crowd, but she’s a spinning fury of fists and knees and elbows—even in her stilettos. She’s single-handedly fending off three AIB assholes.

She trained for this shit, but she can’t hold them off forever.

Especially with those shock sticks in play.

“Racetrack,” I groan.

My housemate’s the only ally in sight. She’s got to get Zara the fuck out.

Now.

I can just make out RT, still standing on the bar, scowling and kicking some fool in the face with her shitkicker boot.

Xiao’s foot slams into my diaphragm. My sternum ignites in a red blaze of pain.

I curl into the blow with an oof! Try to clear my head. Order my limbs to function.

No joy. I’m limp as a clubbed fish.

“You’d better… fucking… run,” I grind out, with my chest on fire, “before I… fucking… kill you.”

“Wow, Adam. I’m really scared.” Xiao sneers at my rubber-lipped threat.

“Not me, RT!” Zara’s gritty yell spirals through the buzz in my brain. “You got anything left, you help Neo! Then Ronin!”

That gets my heavy head off the deck in a hurry.

Blast.

There’s my sweet Red, handcuffed and struggling, getting perp-walked (more like dragged) between two grim-faced coppers toward the cabin. His white tuxedo jacket’s all sooty, his glasses are knocked askew, and his horrified gaze is locked on me.

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