Secret Worlds (523 page)

Staggering across the room, Holbrook managed to right my chair along with me in it, and after fishing the keys to the cuffs out of the pocket of one of the Goon Twins, released me. Rubbing the irritated skin of my wrists, I scowled at Santos where he was leaning heavily on his desk, pushing mussed hair back from his red face.

Clearly still disoriented he mashed the intercom button on his phone and growled, “Marge, where the hell is Johnson?”

“Johnson, Sir? He left five minutes ago,” Marge’s voice said through the phone, full of confusion.

“What? Lock down the building! I want him found.”

“I told you that asshole tried to kill me,” I sniffed, pissed that I was too tired and sore to enjoy my moment of validation.

THE NEXT SEVERAL minutes were a cluster fuck of activity as agents swarmed over every inch of the building searching for Johnson. Unsurprisingly, he was already long gone, having slipped out before the alarm had even been raised. I soon grew bored listening to Santos bark orders into his phone and at the bewildered agents crowding into his office. I decided to go in search of Holbrook, who had edged out of the room shortly after the building was locked down.

I found him alone in the small break room, sweat beading on his forehead as he eased his swollen hand into a large bowl of water. His breath whistled between clenched teeth as the water flowed over his skin, tendrils of pink swirling throughout. I noticed the open canister of salt sitting close by but didn’t ask for an explanation.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled as he shook his head, dark hair falling over his glistening brow.

“How bad is it?”

His voice was thick and rough when he answered, “It’s fine. I’m dandy.”

Peering into the bowl I saw the blisters covering his hand erupting, tainting the water with pus and blood.

Sure doesn’t look fine to me
, I thought, deciding to keep my mouth shut. He didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk about it. Wrinkling my nose at the putrid smell emanating from the bowl, I took a couple steps back to lean against the edge of the counter.

“The building is still on lock down, but they’re pretty sure Johnson is in the wind,” I said to fill the silence, needing to say something to distract myself from the pained sounds he was making. For some reason, I couldn’t stand seeing him in pain.

He didn’t say anything, opting instead to merely grunt in acknowledgement.

“So…turns out Johnson’s totally whack-a-doodle,” I said, inspecting a hang nail on my right thumb.

“Looks that way,” Holbrook responded stiffly between sharp breaths.

Looking over, I gagged at the sight of him removing his hand from the bowl, bloody water dripping from his raw fingers. The surface layer of skin was completely gone in places, the rest of it riddled with open blisters that oozed and gave off a smell akin to raw meat left too long in the sun.

“Ugh, gross,” I murmured, wrinkling my nose at the foul odor.

“Wanna help?” Holbrook asked, holding his dripping hand over the bowl.

Raising my eyes from his hand to see if he was serious, my stomach clenched when it looked as if he was. “Er, sure.”

“First aid kit is under the sink.”

I moved over to the sink, crouching down to fish the first aid kit out of the cabinet, ignoring the way my ribs felt like they were grating against one another. After a few moments of digging around amongst the clutter, I fished out a white plastic box that looked like one of the old lunch boxes I’d had as a kid. Of course, my lunch box had been pink and plastered with My Little Pony stickers rather than a large red plus sign. The layer of dust on the top gave me the impression it hadn’t seen much action. Then again, I supposed that working in an office, even if it was with the FBI, didn’t pose many hazards beyond the occasional paper cut.

“What now?” I asked, setting the first aid kit down on the counter.

“I’m gonna need some gauze, antiseptic, and bandages.”

Popping the kit open I riffled through its contents before pulling out a box of bandages, a couple packs of sterile gauze pads, and a small spray bottle of antiseptic. “All right. Now what?”

“Wow, you really are sheltered, huh?”

“Bite me, asshole,” I grumbled. “You know, before you came along, my life was blessedly devoid of dead bodies, psychotic FBI agents, and whatever this is,” I added sourly, tilting my chin at his hand.

“Somehow I have a feeling that trouble doesn’t have a problem finding you all on its own. Now, are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there like a princess?”

“I’m
not
a princess,” I replied, choosing not to acknowledge the amused curve of his lips.

Following his directions I pulled on a pair of latex gloves and liberally sprayed antiseptic over his hand, trying not to gag every time I breathed in another lungful of the putrid smell of his decimated skin.

“Oh, that’s just nasty.”

“Seriously? You regularly kill and eat rabbits and deer, and
this
grosses you out?”

“That’s different,” I sniffed, slapping a gauze pad on his hand with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry,” I said, adding another layer of gauze with a bit more care.

“Uh huh,” was all he said.

We remained silent as I finished dressing his hand, wrapping it in several layers of bandages until he resembled a cheesy old Hollywood mummy. He wasn’t going to be using that hand for a while, and I couldn’t help feeling guilty that he’d been injured protecting me. The fact that it was all part and parcel of his job didn’t make me feel any less responsible for his injuries. The only small mercy was that he’d injured his left hand and would still be able to fire his gun if the need arose.

More like
when
the need arises
, I thought, all too aware that I was now in the crosshairs of two raving lunatics. Pushing that thought from my mind, I took advantage of our brief moment alone to push a stray lock of damp hair back from his forehead.

Surprised, his eyes rose to meet mine and the weight of his gaze crashed into me with a physical force, causing my heart to thump in my chest. The wolf stirred, flexing and stretching in a way she hadn’t since before Johnson’s attack. It was thrilling to feel her aware again, my excitement bubbling over into other, more primal feelings.

Holbrook’s breath was soft and warm when I brushed my lips over his, ignoring the sting of my split lip in favor of brushing the tip of my tongue along the seam of his mouth. With a shuddering sigh he parted his lips, filling me with the minty sweetness of his breath.

“What was that for?” he asked, breathless and his cheeks full of color when I broke the kiss several moments later. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added with a quirk of his lips.

“Just wanted to say thanks,” I replied with a grin and a shrug.

“You thank everyone who puts their life in danger for you this way? ’Cause you know, that might require a lot of kissing.”

“Just the smart-assed ones.”

“Agent Holbrook?” a fresh faced man-child asked from the doorway, a harried expression on his flushed face.

“Yes?” Holbrook replied, all traces of amusement disappearing from his face in a heartbeat, though I was happy to see that he didn’t remove his hand from the curve of my hip.

“Sorry to…interrupt you…” the young man floundered, blushing an even darker shade of crimson, his eyes dropping to the highly polished toes of his shoes.

“Did you need something, Davis?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“Oh! Umm Agent Santos…er…I mean, Division Chief Santos, wanted to see you, Sir.”

Biting my lip, I turned my head into the curve of Holbrook’s shoulder, trying to hide my laughter. The poor boy was so flustered it was beyond funny. From his reaction, you would’ve thought he was the one who’d been caught making out in the break room like a randy teenager.

“Thanks, Davis,” Holbrook replied, having far more luck keeping his laughter at bay though his efforts warmed the edges of his voice.

Once Davis had retreated, Holbrook caught the edge of my chin with a finger, the faint sizzle of energy bleeding through his touch setting my teeth on edge. Turning my face up to his he leaned in slowly, his lips hovering mere inches from mine when he said, “You, Ms. Cray, are nothing but trouble.”

“Yes, but I’m the best kind of trouble,” I replied before reaching up to close the space between us again.

***

When we entered Santos’s office, I was instantly sobered at the expression on his face. He was not a happy camper.

“Given recent…developments…” Santos began to say, shooting me an irritated glance when I snorted at his politically correct wording. “As I was saying, given recent
developments,
I’m going to have to insist that you return to protective custody right away.”

“You must be high if you think I’m going back to the hotel,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest in a stance of outright defiance.

“This isn’t a game, Ms. Cray,” he said, glowering at me.

“Oh yes, because I can barely contain my excitement.”

“You’re in protective custody. You have to be where we can protect you.”

“Protect me? Because you’ve done such a bang up job of that so far?” I asked. “Fat chance. I’m going home.”

I was already turning towards the door when Santos slammed his hand down on the desktop and said, “I can’t allow that.”

Turning to face him again, I matched his angry glare with one of my own and felt the wolf bleed into my voice and eyes. “Allow it?” Maybe he didn’t deserve my anger, but he was going to get it. “You put me in the custody of a wolf-hating, wife-murdering, asshat and told me I would be safe. What do we do for an encore? Perhaps you have some confused and armed sex offenders on the payroll?”

From the soundless working of his mouth I could see that my natural charm was in full effect. Before he could respond, I said, “Besides, I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

“Can I suggest an alternative?” Holbrook asked.

“No!” Santos and I growled in unison.

Huffing in irritation Holbrook gave us both a look that clearly said he thought we were being childish.

“Go ahead, Holbrook,” Santos said, running a hand back and forth across the lines in his forehead, the sight of his missing fingers giving me the willies.

“We can put a protective detail on my house. Riley can stay there for a couple days until we figure out something else.”

“Fine,” Santos and I grumbled, though it was obvious that neither one of us was happy with the idea.

IN THE TIME that it took to gather up a team of agents and make the drive back across town to Holbrook’s house, my anger had cooled from a raging inferno to a mild case of heartburn, which left me short tempered but unlikely to spontaneously rip someone’s head off. The stone-faced entourage of agents ushered me into the safety of the house in a diamond formation, surrounding me with dark sunglasses and too much hair gel. I rolled my eyes and let them carry me along in their wake.

Having skipped out on breakfast that morning, my first priority was fixing myself something to eat while Holbrook and the rest of the agents toured the property’s perimeter, devising the best vantage points to set up surveillance. I wished that I could have taken comfort in the knowledge that they were watching my back, but after the cock-up of the last few days, I didn’t put much stock in their abilities. In an attempt to distract myself from my less than charitable thoughts, I dug a pack of Muenster cheese and some thick slabs of bacon out of Holbrook’s fridge and snagged the bag of thick-cut bread on the counter.

After I’d set a couple slices of bacon to cook in a pan, Loki appeared out of nowhere, twining around my ankles and meowing persistently. I tore off a couple pieces of cheese and tossed them to him, shaking my head when he barely let them hit the floor. I fed him the occasional nuggets of cheese as I finished assembling my grilled cheese and bacon sandwich, adding a thick slice of tomato before cutting it in half and putting it on a plate. Lifting one half of the sandwich I took the first hot and gooey bite as I walked over to the table, Loki trailing along behind me like a hungry shadow.

I’d already demolished half of the sandwich and was making short work of the other half, when Holbrook came in from outside, his cheeks and the end of his nose pink from the cold.

“Something smells good. Any of it left for me?”

Stopping mid-chew, I looked up at him and smiled guiltily. “Um... I only made one,” I mumbled around hot cheese and crispy bacon. At my feet Loki grunted as he devoured a chunk of bacon. Washing down my mouthful with a large gulp of milk, I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth before flashing Holbrook a sheepish smile.

“I just kinda helped myself, sorry,” I said, brushing crumbs off the front of my shirt. “I can’t remember the last time I had something to eat.”

Plucking what was left of my sandwich out of my fingers he said “No worries” before popping it into his mouth.

“So what am I supposed to do while we’re camped out here? Even with my endurance I don’t think I’m quite up for marathon sex sessions yet,” I said, wiping the crumbs off my fingers and grinning at the rush of color in his cheeks.

“This isn’t a vacation,” he replied, his voice a little gruff.

“No shit. If it was, I’d be lying half-naked on a beach somewhere with a bronzed Adonis serving me an endless supply of Mai Tais.”

“What would you be doing if you were at home?”

“Working, running. Any number of things I’m not
allowed
to do now,” I replied, daring him to come up with a witty comeback.

Rubbing a hand across his face, his fingers rasping over the stubble on his cheeks, he let out a heavy sigh before turning weary eyes on me. The mood was quickly shifting away from affectionate humor to irritated weariness. I’d been so wrapped up in my own shit storm of emotions that I hadn’t realized how taxing the whole situation must be for him too.

“Cut me some slack, will you? I’m doing the best I can, Riley. I kept you from having to go back to the hotel, didn’t I? Don’t I get a little credit?”