Authors: Kylie Wolfe
Fighting to stay conscious, he wobbled to one knee, trying to gain his feet as the room swam before his eyes. Desperate to locate Tru, he blinked to clear his vision while struggling with uncharacteristic clumsiness to reach his knife. It slipped, his blood-covered hand making it difficult to hold.
From what seemed like a great distance, he heard shouts as uniformed men burst into the room and forced Geir to the ground, ordering him to stay down and put his hands behind his head. Chaos reigned as Anto was removed, screaming he had to kill Tru at the top of his lungs.
The knife clattered to the ground, let loose by his nerveless fingers, when Nick realized help had arrived and his strength gave out. He managed to grab Tru’s hand and held it to keep her near, while medical personnel swarmed over him and stripped off his outerwear to expose his wound. Faces swam in and out of focus, and he bit back curses as hands explored his injuries. A groan wrenched through his tightly clenched lips when pressure was applied to his bleeding shoulder. The world went gray and sound receded to a distorted echo in his head as he endured this new assault pushing him to the edge of his control.
Nick sagged with relief when he was given something to shut off the waves of agony pounding his abused body. Marginally aware of what was going on around him, he clung to the small, warm hand anchoring him to the world. He refused to let go even when he was lifted onto a MedTransport to be taken to the medical facility.
Drifting in a pleasant haze, he closed his eyes and felt a goofy smile spread across his face. He couldn’t seem to control it and felt laughter bubble just below the surface. He tried to open his eyes to share this problem with Tru, but they refused to cooperate and it suddenly seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
He gave in and accepted the swirling multicolored world behind his closed eyelids and decided to let someone else worry about the drug-induced smile, which wouldn’t go away.
Chapter 18
The astringent smell universal to all medical facilities tickled Nick’s nose and irritated his dry throat. He licked dry lips, aware of a raging thirst making it difficult to swallow. His thoughts were sluggish as he debated with himself if it was enough to make him want to leave the half-dream world he currently inhabited to ask for water or if he should just let himself drift away again. His body felt heavy, the effort to move impossible to contemplate. The drugs given to him earlier were keeping him pain free, but experience warned him any sudden movement would bring the waves of pain crashing back without mercy, so he lay still.
Thinking took too much effort, and he could grow to appreciate the medicinal smell surrounding him. It meant he could keep the world at bay for a while longer, so he drifted off, seeking the dark cocoon of sleep to give him its comfort. Time had no meaning there, dreams didn’t harry him with regrets and despair, and Anto Geir was no longer a threat.
Anto Geir.
Nick frowned and his mouth tightened, stopping him from fully sinking into the welcome oblivion he sought. There was something he needed to do, something about the name swimming in his thoughts, causing his heartbeat to increase and making him shift uneasily in his bed. Pain lanced through his shoulder. He stifled a groan.
The soothing darkness behind his closed eyes began to lighten and swirl with gray, gradually resolving itself into colors. Lashes, which felt glued together, parted reluctantly and the blinding light revealed through barely cracked eyelids shot shards of pain through his brain and shocked him back to full lucidity with cruel suddenness.
“Sonofabitch,” Nick croaked. He squinted against the brightness and tried to focus. The sound of his voice, weak and barely a whisper, was an unpleasant surprise.
At the rustling of fabric to his left, he turned his head in time to watch Tru launch herself out of her chair to reach his bed. She looked disheveled. Her curls were a riotous halo surrounding her head and her eyes large and bruised-looking in her worried face. Raising his hand off the bedcovers took tremendous effort, but it was worth it when she slipped her hand into his and held on tight. She knelt beside his bed and pressed her forehead against the back of his hand. The wetness of unchecked tears dashed against his bruised knuckles. He raised his other hand to let his fingers slide through her hair before tracing down her wet cheek and lifting her chin so he could see her face.
“Hey,” he whispered. “No tears, okay?”
Tru nodded as he wiped away the wetness with his thumb. Mouth quivering, she gave him a shaky smile and nuzzled her cheek against his palm. The effort to hold his hand against her face proved too difficult and he allowed it to sink weakly to his side.
“Hey, yourself,” she replied, her voice raspy. “How are you feeling?”
Rising from her knees, she perched on the edge of the bed beside his hip. She turned her palm against the hand she held and linked her fingers through his. Nick was surprised by the comfort her ordinary gesture gave him and squeezed her hand in return. She looked him over carefully, and he suspected she was searching his injuries, cataloging each and every one of them. He tried not to squirm, but it was making him uncomfortable.
He grimaced, feeling the pull of bruised and torn flesh. “I’ve felt better,” he replied without a trace of self-pity. “I probably look worse than I feel.”
“I hear you are going to make a complete recovery and nothing vital was hit,” she said. “You might be left with a small scar on your chin and one on your shoulder, but I’m told they can be taken care of later if you want.” Tracing the old crescent scar near his eye with a finger, she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “If you ask me, I think another scar will just add to your rakish good looks.”
Nick snorted and then immediately regretted it when his shoulder began to throb. Careful to keep his discomfort off his face, he attempted a wry grin. “I’ve never been accused of having good looks, so I don’t think one more scar is going to do much damage, do you?”
“I thought you were one of the most handsome men I’d ever met when I first saw you. Nothing has happened since to change my opinion, nor will it.”
She leaned forward to brush her mouth across his, a move that seemed to surprise her as much as him. She started to draw back but he was having none of that. He released her hand, and reached up cupping the back of her head. Her face was inches from his, the gentle pressure preventing her from moving away. By the look in her eyes when she met his gaze, he knew she was unsure. For one timeless moment they regarded each other. Then, as he pulled her mouth to his and nibbled along her lips in a series of feathery kisses, her eyelids drifted closed.
Her hand flattened on the bed kept her balanced above his prone body. He absorbed the delight of having her mouth pressed against his and knew the instant her lips softened to allow more. The burn of desire kindled, racing through his system and the fire consumed him. The pain of his injuries receded, his whole focus on Tru. Taking command, he explored the warm depths of her mouth.
His heart hammered in his chest, driving the last remnants of the drugs in his system away. He kissed her as a man kisses the woman he wants above all else, his mouth claiming, taking everything, giving no quarter and then demanding more. He swept his tongue into the dark recesses of her mouth, enthralled by her taste, mindless to his surroundings, blind to everything but the woman he was kissing as if his very life depended on it.
The sound of a throat cleared jerked him back to reality and broke their kiss as effectively as being physically pried apart. Nick rested his forehead against hers for a moment and suppressed a groan, his heart beating a painful rhythm against his cracked ribs. As he dragged air into his starved lungs, he dropped his hand from the back of her head and released her.
Tru scuttled back, her cheeks reddening. He regretted her obvious discomfort at being discovered in a compromising position, but didn’t regret what had just happened, only that it hadn’t happened sooner and was over far too soon. She touched her fingertips to her swollen mouth and dropped her hand to her side. She straightened, shot him an undecipherable look and turned to face whoever had come into the room.
“I see the medic wasn’t exaggerating your rate of recovery,” the head of security said. “Glad to see he was correct.” Amusement crinkled the corners of the man’s eyes as he broke the uncomfortable silence. Not waiting for a reply, he stepped fully into the room to stand at the foot of Nick’s bed. “I doubt you remember me, Captain Rayven, since the capture of Anto Geir and his men was fairly chaotic, so let me introduce myself. I’m Sharpe, the head of security here in Killjoy.”
“Sorry, I don’t remember you. I was a little preoccupied at the time,” Nick answered while he raised the head of his bed to an upright position. He didn’t intend to have a discussion with this man while lying flat on his back.
Sharpe chuckled. Rocking back on his heels, he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Fair enough.”
“How can I help you?” Nick asked after he settled. He reached out to clasp Tru’s hand.
“I want to personally thank you and your crew mate, Siren, for the warning about Crowder and his men. They’re wanted in a number of unresolved crimes spanning several of our planets and it is quite a coup they’re in our custody. It is too bad we didn’t know sooner so we could have avoided what happened to you.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t make their acquaintance until we were trapped in that hallway,” Nick said. “Until then I’d no idea they even existed and couldn’t have cared less they were known criminals.”
The humor slid away from Sharpe’s face. “I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but you are extremely lucky. Crowder is a violent offender and never leaves witnesses to his activities. It has made him extremely difficult to capture and the fact you both are alive is nothing short of a miracle.”
“Trust me, I know exactly how lucky we are,” Nick replied, squeezing Tru’s hand.
“This is the first break we have had, and your statements should guarantee he does a long stretch on Purgatory.” Sharpe’s gaze moved between Tru and Nick. He removed his hands from his pockets and let them drop to his sides. “I’ve been informed you will be spending at least another day in the med facility while you recover, but it has been cleared we can record your testimony for the courts when you feel up to it.”
Nick was tired, the medication no longer keeping the pain away. He wanted to rub his temples to ease the headache beginning to pound behind his eyes, but stubbornly refused to show any weakness. It seemed especially important with Tru in the room and Sharpe standing at the foot of his bed exuding a disgusting amount of virility. “I don’t plan to be on this rock any longer than I have to,” Nick said. “Why don’t I come by tomorrow, as soon as I’m released, and we can take care of it then?”
“Excellent. I promise not to take up any more of your time than necessary. In the meantime, is there anything you need?”
Nick smiled slowly, gaze locked on Tru. “Nope, I’m good. I think I’ve everything I need right here.”
“I can see that,” Sharpe replied. “If you will excuse me then, I will leave you to get some rest.”
“Before you go, can you tell me what you have done with Anto Geir?” Tru asked.
“He’ll be transported to Paladin Minor with a security detail when it can be arranged. There is a facility there, Harrowsgate House. It specializes in drug withdrawal and is secure enough to hold the criminally insane,” he said, his voice kind. He smiled at her.
“Oh.” She pushed a stray curl behind her ear and bit her bottom lip. “What will happen to him?”
Sharpe exchanged a look with Nick, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “To be honest with you,” he said, with the barest hesitation, “the odds of him surviving withdrawal from this drug are minimal. It is particularly nasty, and once addicted, few are able to stop using. Harrowsgate has had some success with its patients, but those who survive are usually brain damaged.”
“If he survives, what then?”
“I have no easy answer for you, I’m afraid. The authorities on Paladin Minor are coordinating with the Unified Alliance of Planets. They will try to gain as much information as they can about the cartel he worked for so they can stop this threat. I doubt they will get much information out of Geir though, but every little thing will help. They already moved to shut down his operation on Lodestone. Your grandfather has been instrumental in cutting off that avenue of shipments, from what I hear.” Sharpe scratched his chin and drew his brows together in a slight frown. “My best guess is Geir will be incarcerated the rest of his life. Primarily for his own protection. You can be sure the cartel doesn’t want him around in case he reveals too much. He’ll be no further threat to you.”
“Thank you. I just needed to be sure he’s taken care of and won’t be coming after me again.” She let out a deep sigh.