Текст книги "Midnight's Kiss"

Автор книги: Thea Harrison

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“There’s some kind of hole in the ceiling. That’s the way out.” Melly’s voice shook.

She was right. As they got closer, the details became apparent. The hole was covered with a grate.

They came to stand directly underneath it. Thankfully, the light remained pale and gray. He guessed it was the light of predawn. The grate was rectangular and looked like it was made out of sturdy iron. It would be difficult, perhaps even impossible, for a human to move it without a crowbar.

He handed his flashlight to Melly, reached up to grasp the grate with both hands and pushed up. It was heavy to shift even for him. With a scraping sound, it popped out of place, and he pushed it to one side until they had a hole big enough to fit through.

He turned to Melly, laced the fingers of his hands together and bent to offer them to her. “Time to step up.”

Setting the flashlight and her grocery bag aside, she placed one narrow foot in his grip and braced herself with both hands on his shoulders. Straightening, he lifted her until she could hoist herself out of the hole. Her weight left his hands. Tilting his head back, he watched her disappear.

Almost immediately her disheveled head popped into view again as she looked into the hole. Her expression had turned tense again, her gaze dark with worry. “Julian, it’s almost dawn.”

He nodded. “I know. Tell me what you can see.”

She glanced around. “We’re either in an alleyway, or a single-lane road. The area’s deserted. There are buildings all around that look like warehouses.” She bent over to peer into the hole at him again. “This spot is deep enough in shadow there won’t be direct sunlight for at least fifteen minutes, maybe more, only I’m no good at judging that sort of thing. Please come out and judge for yourself.”

“All right. Back up.” When she disappeared from sight again, he leaped up, grabbed the edge of the hole and levered himself out to crouch warily beside her.

One quick glance around told him she was right, and he relaxed marginally. Their immediate surroundings were intensely industrial. Weeds sprouted in cracks in the asphalt, and there was a run-down quality to the buildings, giving the scene an air of desolation. If it had been a thriving warehouse district, the area would be bustling by now as businesses readied for the workday, but there was no movement in sight.

He straightened to a standing position, and she joined him. “I’m not sure, but I think I know where we are, at least in a general sense,” he told her. “There’s an area in southeastern San Francisco that’s been marginalized for years. None of our attempts at revitalization have taken hold yet. If we’re where I think we are, we’re anywhere from six to ten miles away from Nob Hill.”

She wiped her face. “On the one hand, that’s not very far away. But on the other hand, that’s much too far to travel when sunlight is going to appear overhead very soon now.”

He turned to face her. “You can travel it. Direct daylight won’t stop you.”

At the first word out of his mouth, she started shaking her head. “No. I’m not going to leave you.”

“You might not have a choice,” he said. “If you go, you can at least get someone to come back with protective clothing, along with a vehicle that has tinted glass.”

All the fragility and grief came to the surface in the look she gave him. “And leave you to do what?” she asked, her voice raw with exhaustion. “Climb back into that hellhole to wait for me?”

“I have more options than just the hellhole,” he said, gesturing to the nearby buildings.

As she opened her mouth to reply, a quick movement of air brushed against the bare skin of his back.

It was all the warning he got.

Instinct made him spin on his heel. Even as he did, he felt a piercing pain in his lower back. It went very deep.

Arching, he grabbed at the pain while punching out with his other hand. He had no time to see his attacker or take aim. Instead, he struck out blindly. As his questing fingers curled around something short and hard that protruded from his lower back, he landed a glancing blow on something solid.

A gasped curse sounded in his ear. He yanked out the protrusion and glanced down at it. It was a knife. He’d been stabbed.

His attacker struck out again. This time, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye as a black blur, he had just enough time to leap back. Fire bloomed along the surface of his abdomen. He had been cut again, but this time it was a surface wound and the damage was minimal.

Another fighter might have continued to dance back so that he could parry while taking a minimum amount of damage. In another fight, he might have done the same.

But not this fight. He lunged toward his attacker, as hard and as fast as he possibly could. He connected in a body slam, sending them both to the ground.

Visual impressions came to him in almost instantaneous snapshots. His attacker wore all black from head to toe. The black hood and outfit were sun-protective clothing, and physically, she was shorter and slighter of build than he. But she was every bit as fast, and in his current weakened state, she was quite a bit stronger.

Justine had come to locate her errant assistant.

His existence narrowed until he had just one objective – grabbing hold of her and not letting go.

It was a vicious scramble. She flipped them both bodily, until he slammed into the pavement underneath their combined weights. He fought to get the chance to use the knife she had lost when she had stabbed him in the kidney, but he didn’t dare loosen his hold long enough to accomplish a strike.

She feinted with her other knife, and he checked it with one shoulder. The blade bit deep, slicing through muscle to scrape the bone. He headbutted her and heard cartilage crunch.

The entire struggle, he knew, would have been nothing more than a confusing blur to Melly.

Telepathically, he shouted at her, We can’t risk her getting hold of you, or she’ll use you against me again. RUN!

Twelve

Melly knew Julian was right, so she whirled and ran. Leaving him was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

If Justine slipped out of Julian’s hold and came after her, the Vampyre could move so much faster, she could catch Melly in a matter of moments. Melly tucked in her chin and sprinted as hard as she could.

Her delicate ballet shoes had never been meant for the kind of treatment she had put them through, and they offered almost no protection now. Stones and uneven pavement bruised the soles of her feet. She forced herself to ignore the pain.

Meanwhile the sky continued to lighten with brilliant, deadly streaks of sunshine. She had thought nothing could ever be as bad as her nightmarish run through the tunnels, chased by ferals, but she was wrong. With every second that passed, she expected to feel Justine’s hands slam down onto her shoulders.

What was happening between Julian and Justine? The attack had occurred so fast, but Melly was almost positive she had seen Justine stab Julian at least once. Please gods, don’t let her kill him.

Still surrounded by silent buildings, she came to a T-section, turned right and kept running.

Then another intersection. Right again. Keep track of your turns, Melly.

Ahead, a rocky hillside rose up, strewn with bits of trash, signaling the end of the warehouses. As she reached the end of the buildings, she paused only long enough to glance both ways.

When she saw what looked like the shoulder of a real road to her left, she bolted toward it.

Her breathing came hard now, and she was forced to strike a balance between pacing herself while still running as fast as she possibly could. When she reached the road, she looked around. Small houses dotted the unkempt landscape. Several of the houses had boarded-up windows.

Three blocks away, a glaring blue neon light shone at the front of a shabby one-story building.

The illuminated letters read:

ROADHOUSE OPE.

No N.

Even though dawn was breaking, at least a dozen motorcycles were parked underneath the sign.

Motorcycles. Not a single car was anywhere to be seen. Damn it.

She raced toward the building, slammed through the front door and didn’t come to a stop until she was several feet into the main room of a bar.

Judas Priest rocked over the speakers. Bikers dotted the room. Some slouched at the bar, while a few played pool. Several were deep into some kind of card game that involved a pile of cash sitting in the middle of a table.

Most of the bikers were human, but there were a few ghouls as well. As she glanced around, she saw beards and black leather jackets everywhere.

Heads lifted at her precipitous entrance. As they all turned to face her, silence fell over the room. The bartender reached under the bar, and the song cut off.

“Well, damn,” somebody said. “That’s unusual.”

She could only guess what she looked like. She was wearing at least three days’ worth of grime and blood. Her trouser outfit, originally a stylish cream color, had turned gray and was covered with streaks of brownish red. The bruises on her arms and throat had bloomed into full Technicolor, her cuts and scratches were covered in dark scabs, and while she had finger combed her hair, her attempt at keeping it tidy had only served to make each individual curl spiral out in every direction.

Chairs scraped as everyone in the room stood. Eyes wide, they began to advance on her.

She retreated a couple of steps, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath.

She said, “I’m Melisande Aindris, and I’ve been kidnapped. I’ll pay someone thirty thousand dollars for a bike with gas in the tank, along with a jacket and a helmet, and a cell phone…” She had to pause to suck more air. “And does anybody have a gun?”

There was a concerted rush toward her. The bartender leaped over the bar, joining the rest as they jostled and shoved each other. Disoriented and overwhelmed, Melly backed up.

When all the movement finally stopped, Melly found herself pressing back against a wall, and every biker in the place extended a gun toward her, handgrip forward. Two were sawed-off shotguns. As she stared at them, a bearded fellow extended his other hand, offering a switchblade as well.

One of them said, “I realize this might not be a good time, but sometime when you’re having a better day, can I get your autograph?”

Another man snapped, “Seriously, George. Not appropriate right now.”

The first one whispered, “I know, I know, just – when am I ever gonna get the chance to ask?”

Blinking rapidly, she told the man named George, “Sure. You can have my autograph later.” Focusing at random on a semiautomatic pistol, she grabbed for it. As the owner relinquished his hold on the weapon, she asked, “How many rounds?”

He said, “Twenty. It’s fully loaded.”

She asked, “Do you have a PayPal account?”

He nodded, his dark eyes intent.

She met his gaze. “I have no time right now. My friend is in big trouble, and I have to go help him. As soon as I know he’s all right, I’ll transfer the money into your account. Okay?”

Rolling one big shoulder in a laconic shrug, he reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out another gun. “I’ll come with you. Gotta protect my investment.”

Big and dangerous as he looked, he was still human. If he came up against Justine, he would be dead meat, but she wasn’t about to waste precious moments arguing with him, not when Julian’s life might be in danger.

She told him, “Fine, but we’ve got to go now.”

As they strode out the door, they were followed by a stampede of the other bikers, including the bartender. Her biker led her to a late-model Harley. He tossed a helmet at her, and she jammed it on her head, while he mounted the bike, started it and revved the motor.

“Climb on,” he said.

She leaped on behind him and grabbed handfuls of his jacket. “What are the others doing?”

He sent an amused glance over his shoulder. “Famous blond bombshell walks into a bar and mentions a shitload of money, guns and trouble all in the same breath. They would die before they stayed behind. Where are we going?”

Tucking in her chin, she told him. With a mechanical roar, he pulled onto the street, followed by the rest.

With transportation, it took only a few minutes to retrace her steps. When they neared the tunnel entrance, she looked around frantically. She knew it was the right place. She recognized it. The heavy iron grate was still pushed out of place, but neither Julian nor Justine were anywhere in sight.

Her biker pulled to a smooth stop several feet away from the hole. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the growl of all the motorcycles. “You sure this is it?”

“Yes,” she snapped. Dismounting, she tore off the helmet and ran over to the tunnel entrance.

Inside, part of her screamed, no, no, no. Desperately, she searched the ground as several of the bikers joined her.

Would she be able to tell if Justine had staked Julian, and he had turned to dust? Had he been carrying anything metal on him?

With a quick glance upward, she noticed the bright, hot line of sunshine that bisected the nearby warehouse. When she had left, the wall had been entirely in shadow.

Taking in a deep breath, she shouted, “Julian!”

One agonized heartbeat. Two.

As the noise from the motorcycles died down, Julian’s gravelly reply sounded clearly. “Here.”

His voice came from below, down the open mouth of the tunnel. The relief that washed over her was inexpressible. Melly lunged toward the hole and leaped into it, ignoring the alarmed exclamations that followed her. She landed with a thud that jarred her teeth.

After being outside for so long, the shadows in the tunnel seemed impenetrable. Despite that, she stumbled forward blindly, until with a small click, Julian turned on the flashlight to light her way.

He sat several feet away from the daylight streaming in through the open hole, his long legs stretched in front of him. She fell to her knees at his side, and he hooked one arm around her neck, snatching her close. After hugging him, she sat back and ran her anxious gaze over his torso.

“What happened? I saw her knife you. How badly are you hurt?”

“I’ll live,” he said. “I broke both of her collarbones and tore up her clothes. She wasn’t able to get any strength behind her blows, and without adequate sun protection, she decided she had an urgent appointment elsewhere.” He looked behind her and coughed out a laugh. “I see you brought back reinforcements.”

She glanced behind her in time to see her biker, along with two other men, drop into the hole. With the addition of three large males, the already tight quarters grew even more cramped. Julian’s arm tensed, but he didn’t move. She knew if he had been uninjured, at the very least, he would have placed himself between her and the other men. That alone told her how bad off he was. He certainly wouldn’t have remained sitting.

Her biker took in an audible breath. He said to her, “When you said you had a friend in trouble, you didn’t mention he was the Nightkind King.”

She told him, “I was in a hurry.”

Without preamble, Julian said, “I need blood. Are you, or any of your men, willing to donate? I’ll pay.”

Her biker came forward to kneel on one knee. “You’re on the hunt for those responsible for killing all those people, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Julian watched the other man with a guarded expression.

The biker held out his wrist. “I’ve given blood to a Vampyre before. No need to pay me. Ms. Aindris will be compensating me very well already. But if you need more than I can give, you might have to pay the others.”

Julian took his wrist. “Do you take drugs? Don’t bother lying. I’ll know if you do.”

The biker shook his head. “Never. I did indulge in too much Southern Comfort last night. Is that a problem?”

Julian gave him a faint smile. “Not at all.”

Melly startled as one of the other men touched her shoulder. “Ms. Aindris, why don’t you come outside now? It’ll give us a little more room to maneuver down here.”

He was one of the older bikers, with long gray hair pulled back into a ponytail. His simple kindness brought a flood of moisture to her eyes. Uncertainly, she turned back to Julian, who said in her head, Go on, baby. I’ll be out as soon as I can.

Sniffing, she nodded and rose to her feet. After such a massive dump of adrenaline into her bloodstream, she felt suddenly bereft of energy and direction, and she stumbled. Taking her gently by the elbow, the gray-haired biker steadied her as they walked back to the tunnel opening.

Several faces peered down at them. “She’s coming up,” said the gray-haired man. “Help her out.”

Two men reached down. She took their offered hands, and they hoisted her up. As her feet left the tunnel floor, she said, “I need my bag.”

“Is it a purse?” The gray-haired man looked around.

“No, it’s a grocery bag.” Her voice wobbled.

“I’ll hand it up to you,” he promised.

Outside, she managed to stay mobile until she could collapse in a heap against the warehouse wall. Somebody handed her the grocery bag. Somebody else tucked a leather jacket around her shoulders. The interior lining was still warm from being worn, and she huddled into it gratefully, shivering while she dug into the bag for the two remaining bottles of water. She drank until she couldn’t hold any more liquid.

Now that the most urgent of the drama had eased, the bikers gave her plenty of personal space. They grouped together nearby, looking her way often, several of them smoking cigarettes as they talked in low voices. A few left. Others climbed down into the tunnel to donate blood to Julian.

Melly searched the cloudless sky overhead. It was going to be a bright sunny day. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

A shadow fell, and her biker squatted beside her. He asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m taking a moment.”

He dropped something in her lap. She looked down. It was a smartphone. He told her, “It’s unlocked and the bill’s paid until the end of the month. No contract, unlimited phone and text. I think there’s about half a gigabyte left on the web.”

“Thank you.” Her fingers closed over it too tightly. When her hand started to shake, she forced her grip to ease. The phone wasn’t going to vanish into thin air.

His dark gaze lingered on her white-knuckled grip. He heaved a sigh. “Leonard is trying to convince me that I have a conscience.”

Looking in the direction of his gesture, her gaze connected with that of the gray-haired man, who gave her a nod while he drew on a cigarette.

She asked her biker, “How’s that working out for you?”

“It’s inconvenient.” He rubbed his face. “Look, I know you were in a bad way and desperate to find help. You don’t have to pay me the thirty grand you promised.”

She nodded and looked up at the sky again. After a moment, she said, “I made a deal with you, and I’m willing to stick by it. After all, you’ve lived up to your end of the bargain. I do have a phone and a loaded gun.”

“You’re also wearing my jacket,” he pointed out.

She pulled the collar close. “It’s my jacket now, right?”

“I guess it is.” He exhaled in a silent snort and nodded toward the Harley. The helmet she had borrowed was perched on the saddle. “You know, at a generous estimate it’s worth maybe fifteen grand. I’ve used it hard, but I’ve also kept it well maintained.”

“Good to know. How much gas does it have?”

“Three quarters of a tank.”

That was more than enough fuel. Riding the bike, she and Julian could be at his house in Nob Hill in twenty minutes or so, depending on traffic.

If it weren’t for the cloudless, sunny morning.

She looked up at the sky again. “How about twenty instead of thirty? You’ll still be making a good profit.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“What’s your PayPal address?”

When he told her, she used the phone to log on to her PayPal account and went through the steps to pay him. His email address was simple and no-nonsense – his first and last name. She said, “Done. Thank you, Keenan.”

He dropped the keys to the Harley into her lap and shook her hand. “It’s yours. I’ll sign the title over to you and messenger it to… Where do you want me to send it?”

“If you deliver it to Julian’s house in San Francisco, he’ll see that I get it.”

“Fair enough.” With a shrug, he stood and walked toward the other bikers.

Watching him walk away, she considered his laconic attitude and reluctant decency, and she thought she might be crushing on him just a little.

Two more men emerged from the tunnel, drawing her attention. Then Julian appeared in a catlike leap. He was every bit as filthy as she was and entirely healed, and he moved with an extraordinary, predatory grace. Aside from the sheer power of his physicality, he had a massive, forceful presence that made all the other men pale in comparison.

Watching him, she thought, so much for my little crush.

What she felt for Julian eclipsed everything else. Everything.

A pity her feelings couldn’t tell her what she should do about them.

As she watched, he looked around the scene warily. The area where she sat was still in deep shadow, so he approached to crouch at her side.

“I bought a bike,” she told him. Her voice was unsteady again. “And a helmet, and a jacket. But I didn’t think about gloves, and your neck would be exposed. I think we’re going to have to wait for a car after all, and there’s no way I’m going to leave you again, so we’re going to have to break into one of the buildings to either wait out the day or wait for a ride, because Julian, I cannot go back down into that hole or I will go insane.”

Midway through her speech, he gripped her arms.

“Melly, stop.” He pulled her against his chest, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, huddling against him. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and said into her hair, “You don’t have to try to fix everything, damn it. You can rely on me. I’ll handle this. And no, we’re not going to wait for a ride or for daylight to fade. We have too much to do.”

Too much to do. Hmm.

She’d been hoping for a croissant, and a cup of coffee with cream and sugar.

Resting her cheek against his pectoral, she nodded as if she knew what he was talking about. A part of her concentrated fiercely on soaking up the sensation of his closeness.

After a moment he eased away. He told her, “I’ll be right back.”

As he approached the other men, she took note of how they reacted to him. They had been so much more generous than she could have expected. They had fed Julian and brought him back to health, but when he neared, several of them also took a step back. They were rough men, all of them, ready and able to commit violence, but they all recognized the dominant predator in their midst.

After exchanging a few sentences, one of them handed a pair of black gloves over to him, while another shrugged out of a flannel shirt he had been wearing over a Metallica T-shirt. Julian shook their hands, pivoted and came back to her. Tearing the thick flannel material into strips, he wrapped it around his neck and donned the gloves.

She stood to shrug off the jacket and hand it to him. After slipping it on, he zipped it and turned the collar up. His gaze met hers. One corner of his mouth notched up. “It’s not elegant, but I’ve gone most of my life not being elegant. It’ll do.”

“As long as you’re sure.” She fussed over him, pulling the flannel material as high as she could under his chin.

“I’m sure.” He flattened a hand at the small of her back and pulled her forward to give her a hard kiss. “Do you know how to ride a Harley?”

She slapped the keys into the palm of his hand. “Nope, and this is not my morning to learn. Have at it, soldier.”

His smile widened. Taking her hand, he hoisted her to her feet. “Ready to go?”

“Almost. Hold on a sec.” It was her turn to walk over to the bikers. She met each man’s gaze. “Thank you so much for everything. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Several of them ducked their heads. For scary, rough-looking dudes, some of them were quite adorable. Keenan offered her a faint smile.

Leonard said, “You’re welcome. Go kick some ass.”

Julian had followed her. He told them, “That’s the plan.”

She asked the group, “I have one more question for you. Does anybody have a pen?”

After a moment of surprise, they dug into their pockets, until one of them offered a blue ballpoint pen. Crooking her finger at the guy who had asked for her autograph, she gestured for him to roll up his sleeve. Then she signed Melisande on his forearm.

Staring at the signature, he breathed, “I’m never going to wash my arm again.”

Leonard snorted. “That ain’t much of a stretch. You don’t wash much anyway.”

“Wait, I can’t sweat. I need a tattoo parlor, stat.”

“Come on,” Julian said. He led her to the bike, pausing just long enough to slip on the helmet. “It goes against all my instincts to wear this helmet while you don’t have one.”

She told him, “You’ll live, which is the point. And you won’t let us crash.”

The dark faceplate of the helmet was blank, yet she got the impression he was frowning at her. He mounted the bike while she slipped her new phone into her pocket and tucked the gun into her waistband.

“If I have anything to say about it, we sure as hell won’t crash. But I need you to be ready, just in case something happens. Is your gun loaded?”

She swung onto the bike behind him, and because this time it was Julian, she nestled close against his body, spooning him.

“I double-checked. It has a full clip. Why? You’re not expecting trouble, are you?” She tensed at the thought.

“I don’t know what to expect. Soon after Justine ran away, I heard the sound of a chopper nearby. It may have been unrelated, or she may have help, like we discussed.”

“I didn’t even notice,” she said. Working as she did in LA, the sound of traffic helicopters was so frequent, she tended to block out the sound.

“We’re not going to get complacent.” Starting the bike, he told her telepathically, Hold on tight. This is going to be a fast, rough ride.

She tightened her arms around his waist. Briefly he squeezed her hand, and they took off.

Julian wasn’t exaggerating. It was a wild ride. He drove aggressively, and on open stretches of road, their speed shot up until the world became a blur. Squinting, she peeked once over his shoulder at the speedometer, and saw they had hit over a hundred miles an hour.

The wind screamed in her ears, and it whipped her hair around. Tears streamed from her eyes so that she couldn’t see. She didn’t dare loosen her hold to wipe her face. Instead, she let go of everything – any worry that enemies might be tracking them, any fear at their high speed – and buried her face in Julian’s back, putting all her trust in him. After being confined in the dark for so long and living in serious fear for her life, the release she felt at their speed was exhilarating.

As aggressive as he was, he was still forced to slow when they reached the congested city streets near Nob Hill. A couple of times, he avoided coming to a standstill by driving up onto the sidewalks, scattering pedestrians.

The sound of sirens wailed behind them.

She looked behind them, peering through her crazy mess of tangled hair. A police cruiser tried to follow in pursuit but was forced to plunge to a halt behind traffic blocking the street.

I’m rethinking our destination, Julian said. If Justine has gotten help, it could get more dangerous the closer we get to my property.

How likely is that? she asked.

His reply was grim. I don’t know. When she came to the tunnels, she wasn’t expecting us to be free, but by this point, she’s also had time to regroup and strategize, so anything’s possible. Every time we’ve had an exchange, she’s escalated. And I don’t like how vulnerable and exposed you are.

She had been so focused on finally reaching comfort and sanctuary, his comments shook her. After a brief internal struggle, she said, The mansion’s guarded, and you’ve been missing since yesterday, so they must be on high alert and watching the immediate vicinity. Screw it. Julian, just go for it.

He hesitated only for a moment. Then the Harley leaped forward again, hurtling around street corners and racing the final blocks. Finally the mansion came into view. They fishtailed to a halt by the intercom box in front of the gates.

Warily studying their surroundings, Melly drew her gun and braced the heel of her hand against Julian’s shoulder, while he punched a button and snapped, “Gregoire, open the damned gate.”

The wrought iron whirred into motion immediately. As soon as a gap several feet wide appeared, Julian revved the engine and they shot through.

Hang on, he told her.

She clamped on him, clinging to his waist with all her strength.

Instead of slowing to a stop in the drive near the front doors, he sent the Harley rocketing up the front steps and onto the spacious portico.

“Whoa!” she shouted.

The front door opened as they plunged to a stop. Julian blurred into motion, sweeping her off the bike and into shelter before her feet had a chance to touch the ground.

As Gregoire slammed the door shut, Julian set her down. After such an intense finish to the ride, she was shaking wildly. He kept one arm tight around her while he pulled off the helmet.

Dropping the helmet, he brushed her long, tangled hair back from her face. His sharp gaze roamed her features.

“We made it,” he said. “That’s it. We’re here. You’re safe.”

“Understood,” she managed between gritted teeth. If he had let go of her, she would have fallen.

“Melly.” He cupped the back of her head as he clenched her to him. She tried to clutch at his leather jacket, but her fingers wouldn’t work properly.

“What can I do?” Gregoire asked in a quiet voice.

Vaguely she was aware of Julian plucking the gun out of her shaking grip and handing it over to the other man. “Increase security around the perimeter. Contact Xavier and Yolanthe. Tell them we’re here and to expect a briefing shortly. Get hot tea and food up to my rooms. I need a new phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m o-okay,” Melly told Julian.

“I know you are.” His gaze was concerned.

Her teeth started to chatter. “I’m j-just reacting.”

“Hell, I am too.” Scooping her into his arms, he jogged up the main stairs.