Page 70 of Oath
Wait. No. She was standing on the chair, wearing next to nothing.
“It’s not safe,” I warned her and then tried to blink the sweat and blood from my eyes to look past her. Why was she here alone? Where the fuck were the guys? Reality trickled into the cracks left behind from the last “interrogation.”
“Shh.” Without any sign of rejection, she whispered a kiss to my bruised and bloodied cheek. I was filthy, she shouldn’t have to —
Before I could pull away, she touched my face gently with a cool, soft hand like I wasn’t swinging half-conscious in this basement hell.
“You’re lucky I like you,” she said on a soft sigh that carried some notes of impatience and… worry? “Or I’d have to let you rot in this damn museum.”
Museum?
It was a museum?
I was still chewing on that nugget when she said, “Yes, I found him. He’s a mess, but in one piece.” A pause. “Mostly.” More worry. The sadness drenching that last word had me trying to shift. “I don’t know why they cut out, I’m just glad they’re back on.”
“Keys,” a masculine voice called and then Grace twisted to catch the keys that sailed through the air. Not Alphabet.
Nor Lunchbox.
Adrenaline spiked in my system as she reached above me with the keys rattling against the shackles holding me in place.
“Who?” The word came out raw, rough, and I coughed. Flecks of blood hit the smooth skin of her shoulder and I scowled.
“Hang on, Boney Boy,” she half-hummed the words. “I’m almost there.” A little snap. “Fuck.” I blinked, the sweat stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. “No, I’m fine, I just broke a nail,” she muttered.
“Want me to help?” The masculine voice was back—not Voodoo either.
The man circled her and then I shifted, wrapping my hands on the chains even if I could barely feel my fingers. Then I locked my legs around the guy who was too close to her and jerked him off his feet.
“No! No!” Grace said, the keys falling as she caught my face in her hands. “It’s O’Rourke—he’s with us…”
What? O’Rourke?
Hell—
“Bones,” Alphabet was suddenly there, his voice clear and crisp. Grace had pressed an ear comm in. “Listen to me. Echo echo one two one. Goblin doesn’t need any scattered bones right now.”
It was an old code but still a viable one. Somewhat nonsensical, but tied together with a warning that said while it wasn’t all clear, we weren’t under live fire.
O’Rourke wasn’t a friend.
But right now, he wasn’t an enemy either.
“We’ll talk about that later,” I managed to push the words out as I shoved O’Rourke away. The man stumbled, one hand at his throat as he coughed. I could have choked him unconscious.
I could have snapped his neck.
The boys better be right about this.
“Especially why he’s here with Grace.” The fact Grace was here at all was actively scraping over me like a cheese grater.
“You’ll get a full debriefafterwe’re out,” Grace said, her fingers still achingly soft where she touched my cheek and at the same time her grip was steel. She didn’t let me look away. “Are you with us again?”
Alphabet didn’t comment. Probably wise. Anger fueled my adrenaline as I tracked O’Rourke’s stumbling steps. The man straightened, his hair mussed and his expression a grimace.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered.
“Shut up,” Grace said, and I felt the absence of her touch far too keenly. She’d retrieved the keys and she was rattling them around my wrists.
