Passionate Vengeance (4 page)

Breaking into the clinic had been almost embarrassingly easy, they had slipped in through the open door like it was the most natural thing ever. The two orderlies listened to the footy game on a small radio, arguing and smoking, their backs to the building while they were absorbed in their discussion.

Walking as if they owned the place, they moved down a corridor. Lucas followed Tristan, taking care to be discreet as he checked the rooms they passed. The two nurses sat at the table, both cupping hot drinks. Neither nurse gave them a second glance as they walked by the closet-sized space evidently used as a tea room.

The corridor opened out into the main station area. Lucas lifted the three clipboards and scanned the patient records while Tristan inserted the USB of the portable hard drive into the desktop computer on the nurse’s desk.

“She’s in bed two,” Lucas said softly.

Tristan nodded and checked the monitor of the computer.

“Says here it will take two minutes to download the relevant files,” he replied. “You secure Abigail and meet me back here. They might not have paid attention to us coming in, but with her in tow we might have a far harder time getting out.”

Lucas watched as Tristan pulled his gun from out of his waistband and placed it on the desk beside him.

“You should get yours out too,” Tristan insisted.

Lucas shook his head.

“Not until I have her. If I turn up with a gun I might freak her out.”

“Suit yourself.” Tristan shrugged. “But don’t leave it for long. It will be no use to you hidden away if you need it.”

Lucas nodded and put the clipboard back before heading into the adjoining room. He found a small waiting area, presumably for friends and family. Passing through an open door he found three small, locked doors with ‘Room 1’, ‘Room 2’ and ‘Room 3’ stencilled on each of them. Hazarding a guess, he looked through the window into Room 2, unsurprised to see Abigail lying in the bed.

Disgusted to find her forcibly tied down onto the thin hospital mattress, he barged inside without any warning. She jerked her head up, fright widening her eyes.

“Who are you? What are you doing? No! Don’t come near me! Please, you can’t inject me again. I’ve been good, please!”

Her voice sounded hoarse. Lucas could tell she wanted to scream and plead, to make a ruckus, but her throat was raw. Her words made little sound despite her obvious intentions otherwise.

“Shhh,” he cautioned her, his heart bleeding for this poor woman. He hated the thought of her harming herself further. “You’re safe now, I promise. My name is Lucas. I’m here to get you out of here.”

Quickly, he unbuckled the straps restraining her left hand. Abigail watched him silently, but he saw the pulse in her neck beating a rapid staccato. He didn’t blame her for being scared, but if she continued to yell out it would attract unwanted attention, which they could ill afford. Despite the softness of her tone, if she spoke long enough someone would notice. Anger beat at him again. He noticed the red, raw chafing on her wrists. Temper spiked, he had to work to keep it under control and not scare her further.

Those pitiless arseholes,
he mentally swore. Part of Lucas wanted to stop what he was doing, go back out to those nurses and orderlies and beat them all senseless. Holding himself in check was difficult, but Abigail’s big eyes helped him collect his wild emotions.

Focus on the big picture here, Lucas
, he reminded himself.
Free Abigail, vengeance can come later.

“Abigail, I need you to listen to me. My partner is out there, downloading what information we can about Dr Harper. We need you to answer a lot of questions later, but I have to know if you’re able to get out of here unassisted?”

“Questions?” she repeated, clearly confused. “I’ve only seen Dr Harper a few times, for my iron shots, what could you possibly… What on earth am I saying, of course! I’ll answer anything you want, just get me the hell out of here, please.”

He began working on her other restraint. Lucas would assist her out of this hellhole regardless of her guilt or innocence. Abigail grunted impatiently, finally pulling the strap free herself as if she could no longer bear to have the leather encasing her abused wrist.

“Thank you,” she said on an exhaled breath. “I can’t possibly thank you enough for that.”

“My pleasure,” he replied. “Can you stand?”

“To get out of this place, I would try to fly if I needed to.”

Abigail turned sideways, the back of her white hospital gown gaping slightly as she scooted her legs over the side of the bed and edged her way to ease down onto the cool tile floor.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” he joked.

A dry but very real laugh escaped her. She looked at him, then did a quick double-take, frowning thoughtfully. The hand she had begun to hold out to him for assistance snatched back when she cringed away from him.

His heart pounded with worry. Had she been more deeply affected by the strain of the situation than he had realised?

“Abby, what is it?”

“How do you know my name?” she stammered. “I’ve seen you before. Have we met? How do I know you? You’re a part of this, aren’t you? What’s really going on?”

The tone of her voice rose, taking on a harsh edge. Fear and perhaps paranoia, or maybe faint panic, were clear from her face and higher pitch. Lucas swallowed his momentary annoyance. He strove for patience and a semblance of calm.

“I’ve never met you before, I swear,” he replied quickly, feeling the pressure of each second they lingered. “I know your name because a person who used to work in my company helped fund Dr Harper’s research. We only just a few days ago discovered this and have been trying to help those affected. Your name was one of nine on a list. Abigail, I swear to you I’m not a part of the problem here, I am trying to help you.”

She lifted her legs up and hugged them to her. She studied him with large green eyes for a few more precious seconds—seconds he feared they could not waste. Just as he debated picking her up and carrying her, she swivelled her legs to the edge of the bed and held her hand out for assistance.

Lucas wondered if she did indeed have some form of mental problem.

“The dream,” she murmured.

Lucas took her hand and helped her off the high bed. She stood, clasping the back of her gown closed with her free fingers.

“Excuse me?” he replied, only half paying attention. He led her across the room, then indicated she should pause a moment. As he ducked his head out and checked to see if the passage was still free, she spoke again, more clearly this time.

“I had a dream last night, a nightmare really, due to the fever I was running. You were in it, that’s why I felt I recognised you.”

Not certain where to even begin with something like that, Lucas remained silent, took her hand again and led her back out.

“I’m really not crazy,” she insisted.

Lucas turned to cast a quick look over his shoulder at her. Her eyes were clear, her beautiful hair falling down her back. Even though she was in evident pain, scared and a total wreck, this woman was stunning to him. Lucas felt a fierce protectiveness towards her, but also a strong kick of lust. She was far more beautiful in real life than her licence picture could ever do justice to.

“I believe you,” he replied. “Though maybe let’s wait to discuss that dream until it’s just the two of us, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“You realise we’re not supposed to be breaking you out of here, right?” he asked as he pulled his gun out.

Abigail’s eyes widened, fear flickering in them for a moment. She seemed to pull herself together quickly.

“They’re very speedy with a syringe,” she whispered, clearly worried but seeming happy to go along with him, for now at least. “But I haven’t seen any indication that they have weapons or will use that kind of force.”

“I’m not willing to take chances,” Lucas replied.

She swallowed but nodded.

“My partner, Tristan, is out here. He’s with us, okay?”

 She nodded again and he kept their hands linked as he led her.

“You done, mate?” Lucas called softly.

“Ready when you are,” Tristan replied. He came to the other side of Abigail.

Tristan smiled down at the woman. For a moment, jealousy surged within Lucas. He controlled the pang, forcing himself to remember this was his partner and friend, and he acted more out of kindness than interest. Pushing it aside, surprised by the strength of the horrid emotion, he focused on the job at hand.

“I’ll take point,” Tristan said.

Lucas tilted his head, agreeing. He understood what Tristan was doing. Besides, Lucas was loath to release Abigail’s hand and if it came to a shootout he might need to drag or carry her. It made sense for Tristan to go a pace ahead of them both.

Tristan led them back the exact same way they had come. By Lucas’ watch it had been less than five minutes since they’d entered. The nurses in the tea room were rinsing their cups and gaped as they saw them.

“Hey!” the older of the two called out when she saw they had Abigail.

Immediately both Tristan and Lucas lifted their guns and pointed them at the two middle-aged women.

“Don’t,” Lucas said simply. “We’re more than prepared to return the favour and restrain you both as you contained this young lady. Either sit down and shut up or we will happily oblige you both.”

The one who had said nothing sat down in her chair immediately, looking cowed and shaking slightly. The one who had called out seemed to debate for only a few seconds before joining her friend.

“Go,” Tristan said to them softly, holding his body still but moving his eyes around alertly.

Lucas kept his gun raised and tugged Abigail towards the exit, making sure to keep his body between the two nurses and his charge. Abigail was breathing hard as they passed through the room and headed to the door.

“You okay?” Lucas asked again as Tristan followed a pace behind, making certain they were not followed or ambushed.

“This is a lot scarier than I thought it would be back in the room,” she confessed. She pushed a few strands of hair out of her face and stood taller. “I’m fine.” She seemed to reassure herself as much as them. “I’m fine. We can do this.”

“Damn right we can,” Tristan confirmed. “You’ve got plenty of pluck, Abigail. And it will all be easy from here on in.”

Lucas pressed a finger to his lips to indicate silence as they reached the still-wedged-open door. Once again Tristan squeezed past them both. His gun was drawn, though aimed at the ground. Looking up and down, he checked out their route. He paused in the doorway, making a clear target of himself but protecting them both in case something went wrong. He stayed there only a second to judge their surroundings then jerked his head to indicate they should follow him.

Reluctantly letting go of Abigail’s fingers, Lucas nudged her to follow Tristan and he brought up the rear. Unable to help himself, Lucas kept one palm splayed flat on the base of her spine while he kept his gun steady in his other hand. Tristan walked quickly across the car park, keeping to the edge of the building and the shadows as much as possible. Abigail had to jog to keep pace. She didn’t complain at the quick stride, though her breaths became more rapid.

All too soon it became evident why they were hurrying. An alarm sounded from deep within the clinic, a red light on the outside wall started flashing.

“Run!” Tristan shouted at them and immediately they all sprinted.

The two orderlies shouted from behind them and the sound of heavy footsteps slapped over the asphalt. No gunshots rang out, so Lucas jammed his gun into his waistband near the base of his spine and once again took Abigail’s hand in his.

“You drive,” Lucas panted at Tristan, “we’ll take the backseat. I’ll cover our arses.”

Tristan nodded wordlessly as they rounded a corner. He put on a burst of speed, racing ahead of them both to get to the car.

“The blue one,” Lucas indicated to Abigail, who hobbled slightly in her bare feet, clenching her gown closed as they ran.

Tristan had beeped the doors open and already slid into the driver’s seat. Lucas glanced over his shoulder. He grimaced. The orderlies were catching up to them.

Not caring about anything except the need to get away, Lucas scooped Abigail up into his arms and almost flew the last two car lengths. Tristan had already leaned over and had opened the back door for them. Lucas heard the engine start up smoothly, the car rumbling with barely restrained power. Lucas bundled Abby into the car and dove in after her.

The moment Lucas made it inside the car, Tristan burned rubber, pulling away from the kerb. Lucas twisted to pull the door shut as they raced down the street, turning corner after corner seemingly at random. Lucas laughed, hardly able to believe they had really done it, and without needing to fire a single shot.

He replaced his gun back into the waistband of his trousers and sat up on the seat. He reached down and tenderly brushed Abigail’s hair back. Just as he had imagined, the strands were baby soft and silky smooth. She looked up to him, her green eyes large and vivid against her pale, porcelain-like skin.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured.

She took a deep breath then nodded.

He cupped his hands around her shoulders and assisted her up so she could sit on the seat.

“I want to go home, please,” she said in a small voice.

Lucas looked to Tristan, catching his gaze in the rear-view mirror.

Tristan shook his head once, apologising silently with his eyes.

Lucas sighed and glanced back to Abigail.

She frowned at him, seeming to have caught the exchange between the two men.

“I don’t believe this, I trusted you!”

“Abby, please,” he pleaded. “We have a lot of questions, and you need to be checked out by a doctor—we have medics on staff. We can’t just let you go, surely you understand that? Even if the police had found you wrongfully imprisoned you’d have had to go to the station, make a statement, answer questions and they’d need to write reports. This is no different really.”