Page 68 of Soulmates
I figure it’s safe enough to let David out. The cage door is locked—of course—but it doesn’t take much effort to bend the bars enough for me to open the door.
I step in. David’s head is tipped back, his eyes swollen shut. I’m about to speak when, with a growl, something hits me from behind. Another wolf, the biggest one yet, uses my body as a springboard to get to David’s throat.
And with a solid thud, a bullet takes it out.
Connor’s standing on one leg just inside the circle of light, pistol in his hand. He’s unsteady, but before he tips over, the vampire leader offers him help. Someone finds the overhead lights, and I’m still blinking away the glare when another agent finds him a chair.
“When things started exploding, I couldn’t just sit in the car.” Connor’s speaking to me, even though there’s activity all around us. I nod, silently promising I’ll tend to him in a moment. Behind me, David groans.
“Anybody got metal cutters?” I ask the group at large and drop to my knees. One of the elves comes over with a small snipper, and I get rid of David’s bindings. Moving carefully, I lift him from the chair.
“It doesn’t matter,” shouts the guy who’d been too stupid to kill me when he had the chance. “He’ll die anyway. He’s not pack anymore.”
I step out of the cage with David in my arms, coming to a stop beside Connor. “Too bad his father’s not going to let you live long enough to find out how wrong you are, you twit.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
WE MOVE TO a different hotel. Randolph Collins insists on sending a physician to examine David, and I agree only on the condition that the doc meets me somewhere and I drive him in blindfolded. Him, not me. I don’t want Randolph, or anyone else from the pack, to know where we’re staying.
Besides, I figure someone should look at Connor’s knee too, though he’ll argue me to death if I try to make him the center of attention.
Our hotel room has two king-size beds. Connor’s in one with an ice pack on his knee and a glass of bourbon on his nightstand. David’s in the other, and he’s still out.
I’m still not sure how I feel about Connor. I mean, I know how I used to feel about him, before I thought he was dead. But if getting back with Connor means leaving David, I’m not sure I can do it. One’s my past, the other’s my present, and hell only knows what the future holds.
Despite the blankets and pillows I’ve packed around David, he’s shivering. I brush my fingertips across his forehead. Hot. Really hot. Without giving in to an internal debate, I shed my shirt and climb into bed with him, spooning him against my chest. It’s like holding on to a fiery coal, but maybe I can cool him off some.
“I’m glad…” Connor stops and clears his throat. “I’m glad you have him.”
He sounds so lost. I gulp down the urge to comfort him. He made his choices, and now he has to live with them. He had promised to explain, though, and this is as good a time as any.
“So why did you leave?”
I shut my eyes, my nose buried in David’s hair. He needs a bath, some expensive hair product, and knowing him, he’ll want some manscaping, but his earthy scent is comforting. There’s a pause, as if Connor’s taking a sip from his bourbon. We could have asked for separate rooms, but I like having us all together.
And not just in case there are more rogue wolves coming for David.
“I’ve been part of the Securitas for ten years, a member of the Elite for most of that time.” His voice is scratchy, and he pauses for another sip. “I was based in LA, which is big enough and busy enough that there was little talk of assigning me anywhere else.” He lets the silence echo. “Until there was.”
“Until there was.”
He shifts in the bed, and I hope the doctor brings him some real drugs for his knee.
“I worked a variety of cases, tracking raging incubi, cleaning out an infestation of zombies. That kind of thing.” He sighs. “When you and I met, telling you I worked in security gave me enough of a cover. I could explain the hours and the occasional blood.”
“Blood,” I scoff.
“I am sorry, moshiorghrá.” He clears his throat and continues. “Then about three years ago, a fae princess went missing. I made a poor choice, and my identity became known to certain unsavory characters. My handlers decided I should disappear completely, and that as an extra precaution, you needed to believe I was dead.”
David squirms, and I realize I’m holding him so tight, he probably can’t breathe. I relax, pressing a kiss against his head. “So you faked your own death—and kudos for that, man. You’re a helluva good actor—and disappeared.” My words are sarcastic, bitter, but it’s like he’s lanced a boil and now all the shit’s coming out.
“Yes. I’ve been in Europe on loan to the French government for most of the last two years.” His grimaced as if his knee had just sent off a spasm of pain. “There were rumors of an alliance, a group who wanted to destabilize the supernatural community. When Jacques offered you as David’s bodyguard, that pinged for some people. I got tagged to come to LA to keep an eye on things since I knew the players.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I insisted on taking the case, but I had no idea how hard it would be to see you again.”
I cradle David closer. Seems even the Elites thought David and I had been set up. “That makes…some sense.”
Connor exhales hard, as if he’s been holding his breath until he heard my response. “I think we need to stay out of sight until Randolph Collins gets his house in order.”
“And we should probably get out of here as soon as David can travel.”
