Billionbear and Pair of Bears Boxed Set: BBW and Menage Bear Shifter Romance (12 page)

He was in a huge room lined with built-in cabinets, like a bank vault full of safe deposit boxes. Thickly glassed windows looked into more storage rooms, and also a number of laboratories. Some contained medical equipment, while others looked more like chemistry labs.

Eli paced around the room, peering through each window. He found two rooms that were obviously used for testing military equipment, with targets set up, but the equipment itself was nowhere in sight.

Then he found what he was looking for. Eli didn’t blink at pools of blood or mangled bodies, but he flinched at the sight of the room with an array of guns and a bunch of shot-up crash test dummies wearing those fucking vests. The way some were tumbled, he could see how the bullets had pierced the vests and gone out the other side.

He stared through the window, blood hammering in his ears. All he needed to do was go in, grab as many vests as he could carry, and he’d have his proof. No one else would ever have to die like Ryan had died, trusting in armor that might as well have been made of glass.

Eli opened the door and hurried toward the dummies. He knelt beside the first one and started to undo the buckle. Something sharp pricked his fingertip, drawing a bead of blood.

Talk about made of glass
, he thought. Then he saw the tiny, spring-loaded needle that his touch had released.

“Fuck!”

Eli tried to leap to his feet, but his legs didn’t support him. He fell to the floor with a crash. The room was spinning around him. He’d gotten so excited, he hadn’t looked for traps. Now he’d been hit by a tranquilizer dart, just like the ones he’d used on the guards.

He snatched desperately for the earbud in his pocket. He had to warn Paisley and Jackson, though he knew he’d never have time to get it in before he passed out. Eli’s fingers were clumsy and numb. The earbud slipped from his fingers and rolled across the floor.

If he’d been hit by a tranquilizer dart, he’d be unconscious by now. He was awake, but he felt cold and sick. His body wouldn’t move right. He couldn’t breathe.

Not a tranquilizer,
he realized.
Poison.

Paisley

––––––––

“P
aisley! Jackson!”

It took Paisley a second to recognize the voice over her earbud as Eli’s. He was gasping, his words slurred and hard to understand.

“You’re hurt!” Paisley exclaimed.

“Poisoned,” Eli managed.

“
Poisoned?
” Jackson echoed, horrified. “Where are you?”

“R&D.”

Jackson jumped up. “I’m on my way.”

Paisley could hear the effort it was taking Eli to speak as he demanded, “Wait! Have you got all the data?”

“Not all of it, but—” Jackson began.

“Get it all.”

“Shut up, Eli. Can you walk?”

“No.”

“Then I’m coming to get you.”

“No! Jackson—” Eli’s voice cut off as if he’d been choked. His ragged breathing echoed in Paisley’s ear as if he was lying beside her. He sounded like he was
dying
. But he cared more about protecting his fellow soldiers than being saved himself.

A hot feeling rose up in Paisley, made of desperation and determination and maybe even love. Eli was in danger. She had to help him, but she wasn’t sure what she could do. She didn’t know much about computers, so she couldn’t take over the hacking while Jackson rescued Eli. And there was no way she was strong enough to carry a big guy like him to safety.

She had nothing to give him but empty, useless words. But since they were all she had, she said, “It’s okay, Eli. We’ll get the data,
and
we’ll save you. You don’t have to choose. ”

“Oh. All right. Thanks.” Eli sounded like he’d taken some comfort from her words. Maybe they weren’t so useless, after all.

Jackson began typing frantically, tension radiating from every line of his body. “Hang in there, Eli. I’ll look up what hit you— Look up the antidote and get it to you—”

“It’s booby-trapped!” Eli gasped. “Look up the
traps
. Don’t get caught!”

Jackson’s dark eyes flickered back and forth as he read through scrolling pages of information faster than Paisley would have thought possible. “You’re right. There’s other traps too. Someone’s been expecting us— or someone like us.”

Paisley glanced around uneasily. “Do they know we’re here?”

“I doubt it. We’d have been busted way before we got to download any of their precious data.” Jackson continued typing as he spoke. Then his shoulders sagged in relief. “Eli, the poison they used on you has an antidote, and I’ve found where it is. If we can get it to you within thirty minutes, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll go,” Paisley offered. “Jackson can stay and keep downloading.”

“Lasers,” Eli warned her.

“Yeah, they came back on,” Jackson said. “I just started running the program to turn them off again. But Paisley can crawl through the ventilation shafts. She’d have to anyway. The antidote’s in a room that’s booby-trapped to hell and back. The only safe entrance I see is an air shaft about eight inches wide.”

“I’m a very small cat,” Paisley said, hope rising within her. “Practically a kitten.”

“Is it safe?” Eli demanded. “Don’t risk—”

“Eli, stop talking,” Paisley said. As he continued protesting, she added loudly, “Sorry, can’t understand you. Your voice is really slurred. Jackson, show me the way. And hurry.”

Jackson pulled up the route on the computer. Paisley memorized it, then hurriedly undressed and crammed her clothes into his backpack.

Fur, claws, twitching whiskers...

Paisley shifted and leaped up on to Jackson’s shoulder.

Jackson took a Swiss Army knife from his pocket, then stood on a chair to remove the tiny screws from the screen over the opening of a small ventilation duct high in the wall. He took out the bottom two screws, then gave the screen an impatient shove. It swung out like a cat door, allowing Paisley to jump through, then swung shut behind her.

Her claws clicked against metal as she squeezed through shafts so pitch black that even her cat eyes could see nothing. She relied on her whiskers and her memory of Jackson’s map to guide her, as she wriggled through ever-narrower tunnels.

Paisley came up short at a wire screen. She had to unscrew the bolts with her teeth, wincing at the metal taste and the nails-on-a-chalkboard sensation. It was hard to do, and it made her jaw hurt. Finally, the last bolt came free and clinked to the floor.

She leaped out of the duct and glanced around the sterile, empty lab. Paisley focused on human things— her fear for Eli, Jackson’s confidence in her, Eli’s sky-blue eyes, Jackson’s warm hands—and became a woman.

She strode barefoot and nude to the refrigerator, found the labeled syringe with the antidote, and gingerly set it between her teeth. The plastic was cold against her lips. She shifted, holding the syringe tight as her jaw changed around it, and jumped back into the ventilation shaft.

Paisley squirmed through another set of narrow ducts, her heart pounding, until she came to another screwed-in wire screen. In the dim light, she could see dummies scattered on the floor. Among them lay a living man, nearly as still. The sound of his labored breathing filled the room.

She didn’t want him to spend one second longer lying there and wondering when she’d come. Paisley set down the syringe and meowed.

It took her a moment to recognize the sound Eli made as a strangled chuckle.

She again unscrewed the tiny bolts with her teeth, frantic with the thought that she was taking too long, that she’d be too late. Every twist she took, she expected the sound of Eli’s breathing to stop. By the time she could shove the screen out, grab the syringe in her teeth, and leap to the floor, she was near panic.

Paisley shifted as fast as she had in the hotel room when she’d first met Eli and Jackson, as driven by fear for another as she’d been driven then by fear for herself.  She took the syringe from her mouth as she knelt by Eli’s side.

“Paisley,” he whispered, then stopped to draw in a difficult breath. “You got here safe.”

“Shut up.” She pushed up his shirt sleeve and jammed the needle into the bulging muscle of his upper arm. “I told you not to talk.”

Eli managed a faint smile. He was pale and sweating, his chest heaving with the effort it was taking him just to breathe, let alone talk. His right hand clutched a pistol, his knuckles whitened by his grip.

“You can stop now,” he mumbled. “Paisley’s got me.”

It took Paisley a second to realize that he was speaking to Jackson.

“Was Jackson talking to you this whole time?” she asked.

Eli nodded. His ragged breathing sounded louder than ever in the silence that fell as she crouched beside him in the chilly room. To Paisley’s surprise, he reached up to his ear, and clumsily dragged out his earbud. It fell to the floor with a tiny click.

Eli followed her gaze. “Don’t want him to hear. Too hard for him.”

“Hear what?”

His eyes met hers, his meaning plain on his face:
Don’t pretend you don’t know
.

Paisley bit her lip. She did know what he’d meant. He didn’t want Jackson listening in, desperate to help and unable to do a thing, if Eli died.

“This is the armor.” Eli moved his head to the side, indicating the dummies. “The proof. If I don’t make it—”

“You’re going to be all right,” Paisley interrupted. “I gave you the antidote!”

“Yeah...” Eli’s gaze locked on hers, straightforward and calm. “But time’s up.”

He turned over his wrist, letting her see his watch. It ticked over as she watched. Forty-two minutes since Jackson had said they had thirty minutes to get Eli the antidote.

Paisley’s heart nearly stopped. She
had
been too slow. Guilt and fear and grief hit her so hard, she felt knocked off her feet. She couldn’t lose Eli now, after all this. She’d only just met him. It wasn’t fair.

Then determination rose up, washing away her panic. She
wouldn’t
lose him.

“You’re not dying!” Paisley’s voice rose in a near-shout, then she forced herself to lower it. The last thing they needed was more guards showing up. “Just hold on. You can do it.”

Eli nodded again, then winced, gritting his teeth against some sudden pain.

Paisley wished she could do something more to help him, but she had no idea what. Talking about food and his boyhood home had made Jackson feel better in the air shaft, but Jackson liked to talk. Probably any topic would have worked. Eli was different. She had the sense that the things that were important to him couldn’t be expressed in words.

Paisley eased her arm under his shoulders and pulled him into her lap, holding him close. He didn’t let go of his gun, but he reached out clumsily with his left hand to lay it over hers. His grip was weak, his fingers cold.

He’s going to die in my arms,
she thought.
And there won’t be a thing I can do to stop it.

Terror washed over her, icy as Eli’s fingers. She could feel his heart thudding against her chest, but it could stop at any second. Eli was her mate; she couldn’t deny it now. If he died, a part of her would die too.

Paisley wanted to dive into a ventilation shaft and run away from it all— from Eli, from Jackson, from death, from love.

Instead, she held him tighter, squeezed his hand, and whispered, “I’m here with you, Eli. You’re not alone. I won’t let you go.”

He didn’t reply, but his muscles relaxed against her body. And maybe it was her hopeful imagination, but his breathing sounded a little easier.

She didn’t know how long she sat like that, holding him close, rubbing his shoulders, and stroking his hair. They didn’t speak, but the intimacy between them was a bond beyond words. She could sense Eli’s will to live, just as she had sensed Jackson’s fear in the ventilation duct.

It must be because we’re mates,
she realized. She wondered what they could sense in her.

At first Paisley barely dared to hope. But the sound of Eli’s breathing slowly grew softer, and she sensed the strength gradually returning to him. There was no single moment when the tide turned. But as time passed and his body warmed against hers, she felt less like she was comforting a dying man, and more like she was holding a sleeping lover.

Eli moved to adjust his position, turning his head to a more comfortable position, then settled down again. At that, the last of Paisley’s fear melted away. No one who was dying would care if he got a crick in his neck.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Eli was breathing easily now, and the color had returned to his face. “Thanks, Paisley. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain how much that meant to me. And I know how much courage it took.”

“I just crawled through a bunch of air ducts. It wasn’t dangerous.”

“I meant after that.”

“Oh.” So he
had
sensed her fear. A hot flush rose through her body. She wasn’t sure that she liked the idea that he’d seen that deeply into her.

Eli picked up his earbud and put it in his ear. “Jackson? I’m all right.” He paused, then looked embarrassed, muttering, “Come on, man, don’t cry on my shoulder.” Then he cleared his throat and, in his most military voice, inquired, “What’s your status?”

Paisley smiled to herself, imagining what Jackson must have said.
He
didn’t have any trouble telling people how much he cared about them.

“All right,” Eli said. “We’ll wait. Eli out.”

“What’s up?”

“The lasers are back on again. Forty-one minutes before he can shut them off.” Eli took out his earbud and laid it down on a dummy.

“Next time we see Jackson, you can help me knock his head against the wall for convincing us both that you were going to drop dead in half an hour.”

“Leave his head alone. Scaring you was my fault. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m a shifter. I should have known that I could hold out longer.” Eli touched the scar over his heart. “This would have killed me if I’d been a human.” 

“I’m glad you’re not.”

“You and me both.” He glanced down at the gun he’d been clutching the whole time, seemed to consider it, and then put it down as well.