Out of the Shadows (Tangled Ivy #3) (12 page)

“Duck.”

I obeyed immediately, feeling the rush of air above my head and hearing the crunch of bone on bone as Devon’s fist shot out, taking the man by surprise. It knocked him backward and he stumbled, losing his footing, and crashed down the stairs. He slid to a stop on the landing, but didn’t get up.

Devon pulled me up and into his arms, the door swinging shut behind me. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head, too out of breath and wheezing to actually speak.

“Devon!”

We both turned at the call from down the hallway. It was Vega, standing maybe fifty feet away, pointing a gun at us.

Everything froze in that moment. She had a clear shot at us both. Devon’s arms were around me, helping to keep me upright when my legs felt like Jell-O. I felt Devon’s entire body stiffen and curve around me, as though to protect me from a blow. But nothing happened. Vega didn’t pull the trigger as we stood, waiting for the hammer to fall. She stared at Devon, unblinking, with an expression on her face I couldn’t decipher.

Then the moment was over and Devon was shoving me through the stairwell doorway and half carrying me down the stairs. We stepped over the man, still unconscious, and faster than I could’ve gone myself, we were into the lobby and striding across the marble entry. Well, Devon was striding. My feet barely touched the floor as he carried most of my weight.

I clung to him the best I could, saw him nod at the doorman, and he didn’t even break stride as John pulled to a halt in the SUV right in front of us. He had the back door open, stuffed me inside, and followed me before the vehicle had come to a complete halt.

“Go!”

He pulled the door shut as John stepped on the gas and I heard the sound of the tires squealing on the pavement.

“Just breathe, darling,” Devon said, pulling me across his lap. “Look at me, and just breathe.”

I focused on his eyes, so clear a blue they rivaled the sky on a midsummer’s day. My lungs felt constricted, as though I wore a band wrapped around my middle. Air strangled in my throat.

Devon smoothed my hair back from my forehead and the touch of his skin against mine helped to calm me.

“Shh,” he said softly. “Just breathe. In . . . and out.”

It took a few minutes of desperate focus, but finally I was able to catch my breath. It was a relief not to be gasping for air any longer.

“Is she all right?” John asked from the front seat.

“I think so,” Devon replied.

“Help me up,” I said, struggling to sit up from his lap.

“Take it easy.” But he helped me anyway, until I sat with my back against the seat. I felt as though I’d run a marathon.

“I’m okay,” I said, my voice a weak rasp in my chest. “What happened? How did you know they were there?”

“I saw Wesley go into the stairwell,” he said.

“You saw who?”

“Wesley,” Devon repeated. “He’s a Shadow agent. Rather new, actually. I saw him and knew Vega had to be here. I was heading for the stairs to get to you when you so opportunistically showed up.”

“I was lucky enough to see them arrive,” I said. “But that still doesn’t explain how they found us.”

Devon’s face clouded. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

I was shaky and weak from the unexpected run for my life. The adrenaline was all used up, leaving me a wreck in its aftermath. My hands shook and I didn’t want to talk anymore, still focusing on breathing in and out and how close of a call we’d just had.

John drove us to another hotel, and I was glad to be able to lie down again. Devon joined me in one of the two beds, pulling me into his arms. His expression was hard to read, but the way he
touched me was infinitely gentle.

John took the other bed and was out in minutes. I could feel when
Devon’s body relaxed into slumber, too, though I remained awake, trying to figure out how Vega had known exactly where to find me.

Devon had an internal alarm clock that would wake him up at whatever time he chose. It was an amazing ability and it didn’t fail no matter how tired he was. Tonight, he woke at ten o’clock, rousing me as well, as he stirred and sat up.

John was still snoring and I tugged at Devon’s shirt with a slight pout. I didn’t want to wake up and face the horrible reality. It was preferable to remain asleep, locked in his arms. But Devon didn’t acquiesce. He took my hand, kissed the knuckles, and stood before heading into the bathroom.

I felt better and could breathe easier, but the headache still throbbed. I heard the shower start and glanced at John, still snoring like there was no tomorrow. Sliding out of bed, I went to the bathroom and eased the door open. Devon was already in the shower so I went inside the bathroom and quietly shut the door.

Shucking my clothes, I pulled back the curtain and stepped in behind Devon. He turned his head, water dripping from his hair into his eyes, and his gaze pierced me.

He’d been thinking about me, I could tell. His eyes were somewhat bloodshot and for this brief moment, naked pain was written on his face.

I stepped forward, my hand resting on his shoulder. He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me into him. Skin against skin, we stood there under the warm spray of water. I rested my head against his chest and listened to the beat of his heart. The feel of his arms surrounding me gave me the strength to breathe deep and relax. If my time was as limited as I believed it was, then this was exactly where I wanted to be.

We didn’t speak, but then again, we didn’t have to. Devon wasn’t a man who said a lot of flowery things. He was much more a man of action. So I wasn’t waiting for declarations of love or devotion. It was enough to feel the tight way he held me, his breath against my skin, and the touch of his lips to my forehead.

Naked bodies sliding together is sure to elicit a response from any man, and Devon was no exception. His erection pressed against my stomach, prompting heat to bloom between my legs. I lifted my face toward his, an unspoken request for a kiss. He obliged, his lips sweetly brushing mine.

I deepened the kiss, moving even closer. I needed to feel the way only Devon could make me feel: wanted and alive. Reaching down, I grasped the hard length of him.

“No,” he murmured, brushing my hand aside. “You’re ill.”

Grabbing his hand, I spread my legs and pressed his palm to the heat between my thighs. “I’m fine at the moment, and I need you.”

He needed no further encouragement to slip his fingers between my folds. My body was hotter than the water sluicing over us and he groaned, sliding a thick finger inside me. I clung to him, our mouths colliding in a fierce hunger that I felt down to my toes.

Suddenly he was gone. My eyes flew open to see he’d dropped to his knees in front of me, the spray from the water hitting his back. I had the brief thought that the hard surface of the tub could not possibly feel good on his knees, but then his mouth was between my legs and my brain shut down.

His hands palmed my ass, pulling me closer and helping hold me upright as my knees weakened. The hot slide of his tongue made me gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He played with my clit, lightly stroking the flesh before sucking it into his mouth.

I bit my lip to keep from groaning aloud, viscerally aware that we weren’t alone in the hotel room. Then he added a finger inside me and I gave up trying to be quiet.

Devon knew my body better than I did and he took me to the brink and kept me there until I was begging him in gasps and pleas. He sucked hard at my clit, his finger curved inside me, pressing, and I came in a blinding rush of spasms that left me boneless. My heart was pounding as I finally pried open my eyes, aftershocks still washing over me.

He slowly lifted me off my feet. I arched against him, sighing when his cock pushed inside, stretching and filling me. My legs went around his waist and my back pressed against the wall. I squeaked as the cold tile touched my skin.

He froze. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, slightly anxious.

“No,” I said with a little laugh. “It’s just cold.”

He relaxed. “Ah, the complexities of making love in the shower,” he said, his lips curving in a soft smile. “I’d take you to bed, but I doubt you’d enjoy an audience.”

“Not really, no,” I said. “It’s fine. Just don’t slip.”

His lips met mine. “No worries, darling,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The water had steamed and heated the room to such an extent that although none of the spray reached me, I wasn’t shivering. And with Devon pressed against me, I was plenty warm.

His arms supported my weight easily as he began to move. We kissed, lips and tongues meeting in a wet heat, then he pulled back and gazed into my eyes. Devon liked to watch me when he made love to me, his eyes seemed to see right through to my soul. His body claimed mine, possessing me completely.

The friction of his cock had my body coiling inside for another release. I threaded my fingers through his hair, curving my hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down to kiss me. His fingers bit into my flesh, but I didn’t care. Cries erupted from the back of my throat as my orgasm overtook me. Devon’s body rocked hard into mine, his cock emptying inside me as I held on, my legs locked around him.

Devon pulled back slightly as he sucked in air. His forehead rested against mine and the warmth of his breath brushed my cheek. Our hearts beat nearly in sync and I stretched up to hold him as close as I possibly could. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away, determined not to ruin this moment.

He took a step, separating his body from mine, and I mourned the loss. My legs felt rubbery when I put my feet on the floor, but other than that, I felt pretty darn good.

Devon washed my body with leisurely ease, massaging my shoulders and back, and caressing every inch of me. It was one of those things—actions, not words—that told me what he was feeling. It was in the gentleness of his touch, the care he took with every movement. He even washed my hair, his hands sifting through the now-shortened strands.

Finally, we emerged from the bathroom. I was wrapped in a towel and another was tied around Devon’s hips. He shook John awake.

“Time to get up, mate.”

John was immediately alert, which struck me as odd until I remembered he was an ER doctor. They notoriously had to sleep while on the run, then be up at a moment’s notice for a life-and-death situation. He got up and disappeared into the bathroom without a word.

I took the opportunity to get dressed. Devon and I didn’t speak. The pall over us was almost tangible.

“John may find something that will help,” I said. “Scott could be wrong.” It was a long shot, but I felt like I had to hold on to some kind of hope.

“Perhaps,” was all Devon said.

Both Devon and John dressed in scrubs and I didn’t ask where they’d gotten them. It was after midnight when we went out to the car.

“It’ll be easier to sneak in for what we need at this hour,” John explained. “Radiology should be deserted.”

“Why do we need to go to radiology?” I asked. “Why is an MRI so important? The virus is in my blood.”

“The nosebleeds worry me,” John said. “There’s not a lot of reasons your nose would bleed, and none of them are good.”

Devon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and I winced at John’s bluntness. But I’d rather know the truth than have it sugar-coated for me. And there was only one way to know the truth.

M
iami was a busy city no matter the time of day or night and the hospital was no exception, though the type of patients we saw as we passed through the ER were perhaps a bit more unusual than what I’d seen in Kansas. I saw a man dressed as a woman, and not doing a very convincing job of it; two men sitting side by side, each nursing bruised and bloodied faces; a woman with a baby and a toddler, the toddler running around the room while the mom just looked tired and resigned. There were more people there, but Devon and John walked through the waiting room pretty quickly, and I didn’t make eye contact with any of the prospective patients.

“This way,” John said, sliding through a swinging doorway that led into the bowels of the hospital. In minutes, we’d left most of the crowd behind and the hallways grew emptier. We were following the signs to Radiology.

I was tense, wondering how this was going to go down. In a hospital this size, I imagined someone would still be working in the department even at this hour. And I was right.

John drew to a halt a few yards away from an open doorway. I could hear someone moving about inside the room and the quiet whir of machines.

“You promised no casualties,” John said, in an undertone to Devon.

“I know what I said,” Devon replied. “Though I didn’t promise. I don’t make promises I may not be able to keep.”

John’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “We’re here to help Ivy. Killing the radiologist would be a bad idea.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Devon’s dry reply had a ghost of a smile flit across my lips.

“Give me thirty seconds,” he said to John before walking down the hall and into the room.

John and I stood, silent and tense, waiting. He glanced down at me.

“Thirty seconds? Really?” he asked me. “He seems pretty confident.” He was teasing, and I could tell he wanted to ease my fear and worry. It didn’t work, but I appreciated the effort.

“He won’t hurt them,” I assured him. “Not permanently anyway.”

John acknowledged that with a nod. “Okay. Let’s go.”

I followed him into the room, unsurprised to see a woman sitting in a chair in the corner. Her expression was grim, but she appeared unhurt. John didn’t say anything to her. Instead he immediately set me up on the MRI table.

“Are you claustrophobic?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.” I’d never had an MRI before, but knew the procedure. Lay on the table—they slide you into a tube and could magically see inside. It sounded pretty straightforward.

“Once you’re inside, you’ll be able to hear me talk to you,” he said. “So if you should become uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll move you out.”

“Okay.”

“You want to come with me?” he asked Devon, who shook his head.

“I’ll stay with Ivy.”

I flashed him a wan smile. He took my hand and held it. The table was narrow and hard and I could feel nausea churning in my stomach.

John disappeared behind another door that took him into the control room. I tried to concentrate on my breathing as I waited, my thoughts going back to what he’d said about things that could cause a nosebleed. My imagination was going crazy thinking of what those things could be, and I was terrified in the way you get when the inevitable is something too awful to consider.

The table began slowly moving me into the tube. Devon held my hand for as long as he could, then I felt his palm on my thigh, then my calf before I stopped moving. I stared up at the inside of the tube, unprepared for exactly how small it was. No wonder John had asked if I was claustrophobic. I’d never considered myself such, but as I lay there, I could feel a creeping unease. I tried to relax.

“You all right?” I heard John’s voice over a tinny speaker.

“Yes.”

“Just relax and lie very still. This won’t take long.”

The table hummed, then the sudden sound of jackhammers nearly startled a squeak from me.
I tried not to think about how I was in a tiny metal cylinder and couldn’t get out. The metal above me was scant inches from my nose and I stared at it. I thought I should close my eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to. The nausea and panic notched upward and I broke out in a cold sweat.

I felt Devon squeeze my leg. “It’s all right, my darling. You’re doing beautifully.”

His voice and touch soothed me and I took another deep breath. Then another. I wasn’t going to panic and screw this up. It wasn’t like we had much time or that we’d get a second chance.

After what felt like an eternity, John said, “Great job, Ivy. We’re all done.”

Immediately, the table began sliding out of the machine. Cooler air touched my skin and the hard knot in my chest eased as I was finally out. Devon helped me sit up as John emerged from the control room.

“How are you doing?” he asked me. “Feel okay?”

I nodded. “I’m tired and have a headache, but that’s all.”

“Good. I’m going to nicely ask the radiologist over there to help me go over your scan.”

“I’m not going to help you,” the woman said stiffly, speaking for the first time. “You’re not authorized to be here or use this equipment. Not to mention threatening me.”

“I apologize for my friend,” John said. “I am a doctor and circumstances required us to be a little . . . creative in accessing the imaging equipment.” He indicated me. “This woman is very ill. Deathly ill. I need some help in correctly diagnosing her scan. Please. Will you help us?”

The woman’s gaze swerved to me. She was a petite lady of Asian descent, maybe in her mid-forties. The ID tag attached to her clothing read “Sonya.” I waited, unblinking and unflinching as she surveyed me.

“Fine,” she said at last, the word curt. “But I will be reporting all of this to the police.”

“We aren’t asking you not to,” John said, using what I was sure was his “doctor voice.” The calm, reasoned, and reassuring tone that all doctors at some point or another had to cultivate, especially for delivering bad news. “Just take a look at the scans.”

Sonya glanced warily at Devon, who remained quiet, though that didn’t lessen the edge to him that anyone with half a brain could instinctively sense. She got up and John let her precede him into the control room. He closed the door behind them.

Devon slid his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him, waiting. It took the better part of ten minutes, but then John and Sonya emerged.

Surprisingly, it was Sonya who approached me rather than John.

“Your scan was inconclusive,” she said. “You don’t have a tumor, but neither did I see a cause for your nosebleeds or headaches.”

Devon’s hand squeezed my shoulder tight, and I was grateful he was helping to keep me upright. My knees were shaking.

“We’d need to do more tests to determine the cause. Starting with blood tests in the lab.”

Blood tests. But they couldn’t have my blood. They’d know something was different. Would they lock me up again if they knew about the virus?

“It’s come on very quickly, correct?” she asked. “And gotten worse?”

I nodded. “Just in the last few days.”

“Then we really don’t have much time,” she said. “You need to be admitted right away.”

I didn’t know what to say and a heavy silence fell.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and the compassion in her voice and pity in her eyes nearly broke me.

“Thank you,” I managed to get out. I looked up at Devon. “I want to leave now.”

“Of course, darling.” He turned to John. “Is there anything you can do for her?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go. Thank you, Sonya.”

“Wait,” she said, holding up a hand and stepping in front of me. “You can’t just leave and take her. She needs to be admitted. She needs more tests.”

“I’ll do what I can,” John said.

Sonya’s jaw tightened and she straightened her spine to her full five feet. “You’re not removing her from this facility. She obviously needs care and a physician who can diagnose her symptoms. I won’t let you take her.”

I stared at her in awed surprise. She was a stranger to me, standing in front of two men—one of whom had already threatened her and who she had to know was extremely dangerous—yet she was demanding I stay, putting her own safety on the line for a woman she didn’t even know.

“You don’t have a choice,” Devon said, and his tone was such that there was no arguing.

“Thank you,” I said to her. “I’ll be okay.” A blatant lie, but what else could I say?

Sonya watched us leave and I wanted to reassure her further, but I couldn’t find the words. My thoughts were a bit preoccupied, to say the least.

“I want to put Ivy in a room,” John said. “That’ll draw less attention, then I can get her some medication.”

“What kind of medication?” Devon asked.

“Stimulants. Steroids. Things that will help her body fight back and keep going. It won’t cure her, but can’t hurt either. I’ve seen it help terminal patients.”

Terminal
. The word gave me a jolt. Was I terminal? The MRI showed no tumor, but it was almost worse not knowing the reason for the headaches and nosebleeds.

John again looked like he knew exactly where he was going, leading me to an empty exam room.

“Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Should we let him go on his own?” I asked Devon as John left us alone in the room. “Don’t you think he’ll escape or something?”

“He’s not going to try and escape,” Devon said. “I doubt he even views himself as a prisoner anymore.”

We waited—Devon with a relaxed patience, and me barely able to sit still. I was acutely conscious of our vulnerability here inside the hospital.

The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness, until even Devon began to show signs of tensing, then John suddenly burst back into the room.

“Give me your arm, Ivy,” he said. He was carrying a needle and he reached for me, yanking the cap off the syringe with his teeth and spitting it out onto the floor.

Before I could reply, he’d pushed the needle into my upper arm and injected me. I hissed—the medicine burned something fierce—then he was repeating the procedure with another syringe.

“These are extremely expensive injections,” he said as he finished. “And I think I just outed us when I took them. So we should really haul ass now.”

I had no idea what he’d given me, but I felt an immediate reaction. A surge of warmth in my veins with a pleasing numbness spreading in its wake. The pain became muted, dulled, and my muscles relaxed.

“Wow, that’s some amazing stuff,” I said.

“Watch out,” he said to Devon. “Its effects are almost like getting high. She may be prone to paranoia or feelings of indestructibility. And you should probably get rid of those scrubs.”

Devon hurriedly complied, stowing the scrubs in the trash bin. Underneath, he wore jeans and a white button-down shirt, complete with holster and gun. Only now he’d added an official-looking badge hanging from the front pocket of his jeans.

“Where’d you get that?” I asked.

“Our recce last night. Thought it might come in handy.”

Taking my hand, we followed John out into the hallway. Moving his grip to my elbow, he propelled me forward.

“You’re my prisoner,” he said. “Do come quietly.”

John led us into the ER and we began wading through the people. Three uniformed policemen were gathered around the admitting desk. The nurse was talking to them animatedly, gesticulating with her hands.

“. . . Sonya said they’re still here,” she said. “Random people who threatened her and used the radiology equipment. And she said the girl may be kidnapped.”

One of the cops glanced at us as we walked by, and his gaze dropped to the badge hanging from Devon’s pocket. He frowned and a sense of foreboding crept in to my chest.

“Hey, hold up,” he said, jogging up to us. We’d been feet from the door and I stared longingly at it, the darkness outside beckoning.

We had no choice but to halt.

“Who’re you?” the cop asked Devon. “What are you doing?”

“I’m Detective Clay, MPD, Vice Squad,” Devon said, British accent nowhere in evidence. “This woman is an informant, and I’m taking her into protective custody.”

“Informant for what?”

“That’s not your jurisdiction, officer,” Devon said coolly. “Now, let us pass.” He moved us around the cop.

“Wait a second,” the man said, blocking our path again. “We’ve got a situation here and I can’t just let people come and go—I don’t care who she is or who you are.”

John stepped in. “I’m her attending physician and I say she needs to leave for her own health. If you keep her here, you’ll be responsible should anything happen to her.” He paused, then added, “How’s your professional liability insurance, officer? All paid up on your premiums?”

The belligerent look on the man’s face changed to one of uncertainty, then resignation. “Fine,” he said. “No need to be an asshole about it. Go.”

Devon steered me forward and I looked back at John. He and Devon exchanged glances.

“What about John?” I asked.

“He has to stay for our cover,” he replied, hustling me out the exit. “It would look suspicious if he came along, too, and they’re watching everyone.”

“We can’t leave without him,” I said once he had me inside the SUV.