Page 7 of One More Chance

“Maybe she does good, and there’s no reason to rock the boat.”

“I guess I’m gonna find out.”

“Call me back after.”

“Sure thing, Maze.” Kenna climbed out of her car, bringing her cold coffee with her. Heat hung in the air, surrounding her, making her want to seek out the nearest cold pool so she could soak away all the aches she had. No longer just the injuries to the tendons and muscle in her forearms, this was deeper. And bad enough that she barely even thought about her forearms now because her entire body made her want to curl up on the floor and do nothing. Take a nap. Maybe cry a little.

If this was what chronic illness felt like…itsucked.

Kenna needed to find out what was going on with her body. Okay, fine. She needed to find out whatDominatushad doneto her when they held her captive two months ago. Smart money had been that they’d impregnated her with one of their genetically modified embryos. Considering she was one of those herself, she couldn’t really hold it against the child if that happened.

But there had been nothing.

At least, not so far. Which made it more and more unlikely every day.

All the wild theories her mind wanted to come up with as to what they’d done to her raced through her thoughts. She could be patient zero in a deadly pandemic. A test subject for some new research project they had going on. Or she’d been genetically altered somehow.

Whatever the answer, it put her future with Jax in serious jeopardy.

When she figured out what they’d done to her—and who was responsible—heads were going to roll.

When she was two steps from the front door of the medical center, the window to her right shattered, and two people flew out in a tangle of limbs. A plus-size woman in a pair of dusty overalls hit the ground in a spray of glass with Kenna’s associate Bruce on top of her. The former CIA agent wrestled with the woman like he was fighting for his life.

Kenna reached toward the small of her back for her gun, but neither Bruce or that woman had a weapon. She didn’t draw hers. “Bruce.”

He glanced at her, holding the woman’s wrists with one hand, his forearm across her collarbones. “Kenna, good to see you.”

The woman wriggled one hand free and punched Bruce in the side of his head. He slumped over, and she shoved him off.

Kenna held up her hands. “Not so fast.”

The woman scrambled up, agile in a way that meant she was a serious threat.

Why hadn’t she brought a stun gun? “Let’s just take a sec and?—”

The woman ran at her, crazed and screaming.

Kenna had no time to do anything but turn and present her shoulder to the woman. She slammed into Kenna and nearly knocked her flat on her behind, but Kenna kept her feet planted. The woman’s cry cut off, and she clutched her chest, fell back, and hit the ground.

Out cold.

Chapter Three

Bruce blinked, his focus settling on her. “Hey.”

She walked over to him and almost held her hand out but caught herself before she did. Just a reflex, the intent to help him up versus the reality of her forearms. “I see you found yourself a case.”

“Open and shut. Only took me five minutes.” His tone was easy, but the look on his face when he moved reminded her of how recently he’d been shot and left for dead.

The past few months, he’d been recovering, bouncing back but not as fast as he wanted. He probably wasn’t completely back to fighting fit. Even if he’d just tried to prove differently to the world—or to himself.

The front door of the medical center flung open, and a nurse in black scrubs, her dark hair in pigtails, rushed out.

“Should I call the cops?” She glanced between Kenna and Bruce as if unsure who the perpetrator here was.

“No.”

At the same time Bruce said that, Kenna said, “Maybe.”

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