Page 28 of Cooper's Command

CHAPTER 8

Get your ass inside…

Nova blinked, groaning as the scenery swam across her vision—her stomach roiled in protest. She tried to move her head — catch a glimpse of whoever had spoken — only to give up when pain strummed through her temples then into her chest, stealing what little breath she’d gasped in.

She let herself fade, that red-hot pain pulsing in the background until another voice echoed in the darkness. Mocking. Cruel. The hard edge impossible to miss.

You won’t get far…

Was she dreaming, or was there a viable threat in the room? She blinked, again and managed to pry her eyelids apart enough to make out a chair off to her right before everything went black and dragged her back into that numbing haze.

I’ll have every cop on the island hunting you...

Nova jolted awake, groaning against the pull across her chest and down her side. What felt like stitches and tape — maybe the slide of blood against her skin. It made the room spin a bit, and she considered drifting off, again, until she heard muffled voices in the distance. Nothing concrete, but she definitely wasn’t alone.

She tried to shuffle her memories — pinpoint where she was. But they were a jumbled mess of gunfire, explosions and blood. Realizing she wasn’t handcuffed or bound was a good sign. Not that it meant she was safe. Especially when all her weapons were missing. Nothing but her belt looped over the chair.

Was the fact her clothes were missing important? She felt like they could be? A tangible link to those elusive memories hovering out of reach. Like a lifeline back to before it had all gone to shit.

She glanced around the room, wishing it would stabilize long enough she could focus on anything that might give her some clues — judge the level of crap she was in. Was the door locked? Were they watching with hidden cameras? Would they bust in as soon as they realized she was conscious?

Nova didn’t know, and she couldn’t afford to wait to find out. Even if the voices weren’t a threat, she had a nagging sensation she needed to hide. That simply being there was a risk. And in her condition, she couldn’t afford a confrontation.

Not that moving was going to be easy, especially with her head foggy — her limbs barely getting any signals. She rolled to her side, groaning against the instant stab of pain and placed her palm on the cushions. It took several tries but she finally managed to lever herself up — grab the side of the couch. Nearly falling off the edge cleared her head a bit. Not enough she remembered what the hell had happened, but it allowed her to focus without the floor shifting.

Until she swung her legs over and placed her feet on the wood and thought about standing. That had the room tilting in every direction, back and forth until she thought she’d puke. Having it finally settle on a slight angle wasn’t ideal, but she’d muscled through worse.

At least, she hoped she had because she wasn’t sure she could do more than balance for a few moments before she crumpled.

You’re dead, Martin.

That voice again. Threatening her. Only it wasn’t just the one guy. There had been more. All those snippets of the guns and explosions and blood racing around inside her head. Not just her blood. Someone else. Someone… important. The reason she was sitting there, willing her legs to move so she could stumble out the door. Maybe steal a car and take off. Because despite the emptiness where her memories should be, she knew, without a doubt, that if she didn’t keep moving, they’d find her.

She had no idea who “they” were but based on how much she hurt — how hard it was to find a way to stand — they were obviously dangerous.

Nova clenched her jaw then pushed off, nearly tripping onto the floor when her legs threatened to buckle. She managed to stumble a step forward — grab the top of that chair. It rocked backwards but didn’t tip, allowing her to catch her breath before attempting the five steps it would take to reach the door. Two felt as if it would be pushing her limits, but she’d try. Go down fighting if nothing else.

Nova grabbed the belt off the back of the chair. The only form of defense at her disposal. Not that she was strong enough to use it — strangle some hired thug if they challenged her — but it soothed the part of her brain that was screaming at her. Warning her this would only turn out badly.

She wrapped one end around her hand, giving it a tug. And if that one motion hadn’t drained half her strength, she might have felt empowered. Instead, it highlighted how weak she was and that if she didn’t get extremely lucky, she’d end up back in this room.

Or worse…

Motivation to suck it up and get moving.

A prayer and a shove and she inched one foot forward — was able to take that first step. A tentative lean, and she tripped herway to the wall. The first lucky break she’d had since Tate had been murdered.

Tate was dead?

Pain shot through her head at the thought, and she braced her weight against the wall to keep from sliding down it. Had she remembered that right?

She tried to deny it, but the truth settled in her chest, making it hard to breathe. To focus on moving. He’d been the only family she’d ever had.

Cooper.

His name materialized out of the fog, soothing the jumpy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The answer to all the questions swirling around in her mind. All she needed to do was find Cooper.

Which meant getting her ass in a car.

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