Second Nature (When Seconds Count) (7 page)

“She has a cut along her ribs, too.” Grant shrugged when Thalia glared at him, reaching for the button on her shorts.

“The shirt will need to go as well, then.” Salina whirled around and deposited the bowl full of surgical tools at the head of the table. She paused a moment, taking Thalia in as if she were inspecting a slab of beef. “You have two minutes while I ready the IV line, then I’m cutting them off you.” She turned and reached into another cabinet. “Not that I would be very attached to that fashion statement.”

Total bitch.
Thalia couldn’t stop her wince of pain or the rush of heat to her face and chest as Grant crowded around her, helping slide her shorts over the gash on her thigh. This time he didn’t even try to look away from her. She didn’t know why she was so embarrassed. This was nothing compared to him listening to her pee. He’d already seen her naked and beat to hell. She slapped his hand away as he reached for the hem of her shirt, biting her lip to keep from calling him another colorful name.
Be nice. He’s just trying to help.

Grant braced his arms on the table, caging her in, the scruff of his almost full beard tickling her cheek as he spoke in
to her ear. “I have to transfer my stuff and ditch the car. Don’t give her a hard time.” He paused, his soft lips sliding gently along her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Thalia watched him
tuck his gun into the back of his cargo pants as he disappeared down the hall, a sickening uneasiness building in her stomach.
What if he doesn’t come back?
She flinched when she turned to see Salina standing in front of her with a long needle pointed right at her.

“No!” Thalia shook her head. “No drugs. Just some antibiotics.”

“It’s only a topical to numb the area so I can clean it out.”
Salina pressed forward and Thalia grabbed her wrist, keeping the needle on lockdown.

“I said no.” No way in hell was she letting this bitch inject her with God knows what.

“Fine.” Salina’s eyes narrowed as Thalia let her go. She watched as the woman rolled up her sleeve and injected the needle into her own flesh. Thalia winced as the woman pushed the plunger in ever so slightly. “You people are all the same,” she said, pulling the needle out and rubbing her fingers over the injection site. “There, see? I am not dead. This is only a numbing agent.”

Thalia screamed
when Salina reached out and grabbed her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Son of a bitch! Okay! Numbing agent! Numbing agent! Ahh!”
Please!
Tears clouded her vision as Salina turned and threaded another needle into the syringe.

As quiet as a rock, Salina worked to clean out the cut on Thalia’s leg and repair some of the patchwork Grant had done. For what seemed like hours she sat in what could only be described as hell, nothing but her thoughts of Grant to keep the pain at bay.
Shouldn’t he be back by now?

“He will be back soon enough.” Thalia turned her head away from the hallway where Grant had disappeared.

“I know I didn’t say that out loud.” Either the woman had lied and given her the good shit—which totally sucked for all the good it was doing—or the bitch was a mind reader.

Salina giggled and wiped at the stitches on her side
, applying a gooey ointment before moving to the next abrasion. “No, you did not have to. Staring at the door will not make him walk through it.”

Thalia relaxed a bit, hoping
the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach with every minute that ticked by was caused by her fever. She watched as Salina worked above her, wondering if she and Grant had ever been an item. She was pretty enough. Auburn hair that curled around her shoulders, deep brown eyes and pouty French lips. She was also petite. Like elven tiny. Thalia hadn’t always appreciated her height. Though being five foot ten had its advantages when it came to dealing with some of the people she’d come up against the past few months. But being tall next to an elf made her feel like a freak.

“What did you mean earlier?”
she finally asked, hoping to pry a little information out of Tinker Bell. “We are all the same?”

Sa
lina opened a brown bottle and poured more alcohol onto a fresh cotton swab. “CIA, Mossad, ISI, whoever you work for. You all have understandable trust issues, but it makes my job impossible to do at times.”

Operative
? Holy shit! Is that what he is?
“How do you know him?

One of her shoulders raised in a casual shrug. “He saved my brother’s life a few years ago.” Salina glanced up at her through her lashes, quickly dabbing away the sting that sent Thalia’s last breath hissing through her teeth. “He did not live long enough to repay his debt, but I will always honor it. I have done some of my best work on your man.” Another moan escaped as Thalia’s chest filled with a weird sense of pride.
My man?
She winced again as a sharp, stinging pain pinched the inside of her arm.
Dammit, that hurts!

Salina chuckled again and sighed. “I have never seen him
so attentive as he is with you. Of course,” she shrugged, “I have never seen him with anyone at all before today, so what do I know? He is all bark and growl, and then gone. Until the next time. And he pays well so I do not complain.”

Bark and growl.
“That’s my Grant,” she mumbled, her lips feeling a bit tingly.

Salina
’s hand stopped moving, her focus fixed on Thalia’s arm. A small grin pulled at the corner of her lips. “Grant?” She nodded. “I like that name much better than Silas. He never looked like a Silas to me.”

“Grant,
smant.” Thalia waived her hands through the air, wondering why her fingers looked like fuzzy caterpillars. “I don’t care what his name is. That man knoooows how to—ouch!” Thalia jumped when the woman poked at a spot near the top of her arm. Her head spun a little as she tried to focus on the trickle of blood running towards her elbow.

“Sorry.” Salina prodded at the seeping hole.
“This one is going to hurt a bit.”

“It
wasn’t bleeding like that before.” The room spun as she turned her head toward a loud thump which sounded from the darkened hallway. When she turned back, Salina was scowling as she dug into her arm with what looked like a wicked ice pick. She couldn’t feel it, but it certainly looked like it should hurt. “What did you give me?”

“We have to go!” Grant’s voice sounded hollow against the sudden ringing in her ears. “What’s wrong?”

“Gr…Grant?” She tried to focus on his face but all she could see was a swirling mass of black creeping into the edges of the room.
Grant. I can’t... I need…

“She has
a tracking chip in her arm. I can’t….” Salina grunted as she made one last try for it. “There!” A thin metal sliver fell from the tweezers into her other hand.

“Fuck! That’s why the place is crawling with
shitbags!” Grant bent to gather Thalia into his arms. “What the hell did you give her?”

Salina threw open a set of closet doors and grabbed a handful of clothes, pushing them at Grant. “Put those on her. I gave her
a shot of ketamine. I needed her sedated once I realized what I was dealing with.” After pulling off her latex gloves she paused, brushing her hands over her face. “What the hell have you gotten me into?”

Grant ignored her, frantically pulling Thalia’s arms through the dark blue scrub top. “Grab what you can. You’ve got two minutes if you want to come with us.”

Salina grabbed a wad of gauze and taped it over the hole in Thalia’s arm as Grant pulled her shirt into place. “I will meet you outside in one minute.”

“No. We leave through the tunnels.” Salina nodded and sprinted down the hall.
“Hold on, fossa. I’ve got you.” Grant hoisted her over his shoulder and marched over to the row of cabinets, throwing the doors open one by one. When he found the antibiotics he dumped the trash and raked them and a handful of other various bottles into the bag.

There was no warning before a blast rocked the building. Chunks of concrete and dust rained down onto Grant’s back as he ducked and ran from the room, Thalia completely unconscious over his shoulder. Bright flashes of light lit the hallway as gunfire erupted near the front of the structure. Grant followed his mental map, familiar with every turn through the maze of doors and hallways, until he reached the cellar door. It was still locked so he knew Salina hadn’t made it. With no time to search for her, he kicked in the door. Gun in hand he rushed down the stairs, stopping only to throw a steel bar across the door. He carried Thalia to the back of the small, dank room and carefully set her down against the wall.

Working in near total darkness, his hands found the edge of the hidden panel with flawless precision.
With a grunt, he slid the heavy metal slab away and grabbed for Thalia, pulling her through the low opening and hauling her back over his shoulder.

As he knew it would, the short,
dark tunnel led him into a maze of underground rabbit holes and eventually into the building across the street from Salina’s. When he’d heard the commotion in the street and saw the group of heavily armed men signaling to another driver, it didn’t take long to figure out who they were looking for. He’d quietly stashed his things into another
borrowed
vehicle and parked it behind an abandoned dumpster on the backside of the other building.

Now that the tracking device was crushed under
a pile of rubble, he felt fairly certain they wouldn’t be followed, but he wasn’t taking any chances. After buckling Thalia into the front seat of the truck he’d procured, he reached into the back and unlocked his storage trunk, taking out his sat phone and an extra firearm. It was time to call in a chip or two.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cold air swirled round Thalia, the
womp, womp, womp
sound of an industrial sized fan rattling her bones. She tried to raise her head, to push herself up from the pallet of blood stained blankets, the stench of urine and feces assaulting her senses. Heavy. She felt so heavy.

A
scream filled her ears and she opened her eyes, holding her breath and wishing she could disappear. Light flooded the dim room as a door opened at the far end. A man with a gun shoved a small girl into the room ahead of him. The same man who had forced her into the room the day before.

The girl’s clothes were torn and her hair hung in tangles around her face. S
he couldn’t see her bruises or the cuts that spilled the blood running down her neck. She didn’t have to see. She knew it was no different than her own beaten flesh. She watched, hovering somewhere outside herself, as the man slapped the girl, sending her body crashing to the concrete floor. He crouched over top of her and ripped the remains of her tattered clothes from her body.

She felt her screams rip through her throa
t. She had to stop him. She couldn’t let him! She was so little. No! Her next scream died on her lips as the man stopped, his head whipping around to pin her with his evil eyes. She tried to crawl away, to huddle against the evil she saw as he stomped toward her. Light flashed against the sharp steel blade as it was wielded at her face. Her hand flew up and batted it away, but whatever they had given her made her too weak to fight.

Adrenaline pumped through
her veins and pulled Thalia from the nightmare with a jolt, her hands grasping frantically at the air around her.

“Easy, fossa.
There are a lot of buttons here you don’t want to push by accident.” Grant’s voice sounded loud in her ears, sending what felt like shards of glass ripping through her brain. Thalia ripped off the headset and cradled her throbbing head in her hands. The sudden movement, coupled with the now deafening sound of the helicopter blades and the tightening fear in her chest, caused a weird pitch and roll in her stomach, sending bile and God knows what else on a stealth flight through her esophagus straight onto the floor at her feet.

“
Oh, damn. Hopper is going to kick my ass.” Grant shifted and pulled out a tattered rag from his pocket and handed it to her. When she took it from his hand, he grabbed her headset and pushed it into her other hand. She snatched it back up and slipped it over her ears, squeezing her eyes closed against what she was sure was the worst headache she’d ever had.

Grabbing his own mic, he
motioned for her to use hers. “You have to speak into…” Grant chuckled when she flinched and cringed back against the seat. “Okay. No talking.” She nodded weakly, cradling her head again. “Just try not to throw up again. Okay?”

Ugh. I want to die.
She wiped her parched lips with the rag, but it did nothing for the vile taste in her mouth. The helicopter dipped and her stomach lurched again.
No.
She glanced at Grant.
I want to put a bullet in his knee and then die.

Grant offered her a sh
eepish grin, mouthing the word
sorry.
Crap. He was being nice again. Okay, so maybe blowing out his knee was a little harsh. Even with the worst headache on record, she knew he had probably saved her life. Again. There was that, and the fact that he was flying the helicopter. She ran her tongue over her teeth, her mouth so dry it stuck to the enamel. God, what she wouldn’t give for a glass of water. To hell with the glass. She’d drink out of a puddle of mud if he would just land this thing within a hundred yards of one.

She cleared her throat, wincing at the sound of her own voice as it echoed through the headset. “Ahh,” she coughed and tried again. “Got any water?”

Grant shook his head. “We will be landing in fourteen minutes.” She could tell he was trying to keep his voice as low as possible. He was going to kill her with kindness. Her lips curled into a somewhat involuntary smile. It was something she hadn’t had much use for lately. It felt almost strange.

She closed her eyes and sank back into the hard bucket seat, trying to organize her thoughts
. She had a million and two questions, but nothing was going to be asked or answered until they landed. She usually didn’t mind flying, but she could safely cross puking in a helicopter off her list of things to try in the future.

Grant watched her from the corner of his eye as he maneuvered the chopper into the landing zone. He hadn’t known many wome
n in his life, but the ones who came to mind resembled nothing of the tough-as-nails woman who sat quietly in the seat next to him. Other than throwing up in his friend’s multi-million dollar aircraft, she had handled waking up at thirty five hundred feet pretty well, all things considered.

She’d been surprising him from the minute she’d opened her eyes on that beach. Not many people could impress
him these days, and she’d managed to do it at nearly every turn. He kept thinking about the look in her eyes when he had issued that brilliant declaration back at Salina’s. He could have kicked himself for being so damn thoughtless.

She had been a slave,
for fuck’s sake. Most likely a sex slave. God only knew what nightmares she had lived through. He had no right or business throwing things like spanking and bondage around so casually. The look in her eyes when he’d said it was nothing if not pure need. Aside from confusing the hell out of him, her reaction to him and his thoughtless
promise
inspired an entirely different line of questioning. He was going to have to navigate these waters very, very carefully. First and foremost, he needed to find out just who the hell she was. That, he feared, was going to be one hell of a chat.

After setting the choppe
r down as close to the tree line as he could, he cut the engine and unbuckled his harness. “Stay there. I’ll come around to help you out.” He slid his headset off and hooked it into place between the seats.