Page 16 of Consume Me

I drew a deep breath before answering. I was about to betray a confidence—and it was a secret that could get someone killed. “Norris.”

Chapter 6

An obnoxious beeping filtered into the darkness. It ricocheted around his brain like a bullet. Blinking his eyes, Norris stared up at a white-tiled ceiling. The word hospital processed in his sluggish mind, but when he went to move, he couldn’t. Straining to see, he discovered two thick leather belts buckled around his wrists. He couldn’t feel his legs to know if they were similarly bound or worse. Instinct took over and he pulled against the straps as his last few memories filtered back to him.

He’d been at a party. Something had happened.

Mary, Alexander’s grandmother had collapsed. He was asked to take the Queen home.

The rest of the night came in scattered pieces.

Clara worried but holding herself together.

Sarah sitting mute and shocked in the backseat.

Moonlight catching the hood of the Range Rover and reflecting something odd.

Then searing pain near his left kidney and Clara’s stricken face giving way to blackness.

“Blue.”

Clara.

Norris could only hope that he’d managed to catch her attention. He hoped she’d understood what he was trying to say. The Range Rover wasn’t theirs. The royal family used exclusively black models. The car that had arrived was blue. Was it enough of a warning? Maybe she’d had time to scream or run. He was in a hospital. Whoever had tried to silence him—or more likely, kill him—failed.

None of that explained why he was tied to the bed.

In Norris’s experience, which was considerable, it was never a good thing to wake up in a strange hospital room strapped down.

It took longer than it should have for him to process what that meant. No doubt he’d been under sedation. If he was here, he’d failed. Clara hadn’t gotten help. There was no other accounting for the bindings. But what had happened to her?

Taking a moment, he relaxed as best he could and tried not to think about why he couldn’t feel his legs. He needed to get his hands free first and foremost. Then, he would worry about his feet. Getting out of leather restraints was tricky, but not impossible. It was a skill he’d picked up before he came to work for Alexander’s family. But it had been years since Norris was a special operative and even longer since he’d found himself in this position.

And he didn’t have time to waste. He’d have to do it the hard way. The trick was to break the bones fast enough that he could unbuckle the second restraint before swelling made it too difficult.

Breaking bones wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either. Twisting his wrist hard, he jammed it against the leather as hard as he could. It was faster with metal handcuffs.

He needed more leverage, but when he tried to move his torso, white-hot lighting shot through his side. A cold sweat broke over his brow and he fell back panting. It was a stab wound, judging by his memory and the way it hurt now, and it wasn’t going to make life any easier. This was no time to feel sorry for himself, though. Not while his family was in danger. Resuming his efforts, he was finally rewarded with a splintering crack.

Only a few more and he’d be able to slip his hand free. Next to him a monitor spiked and he cursed. He hadn’t been considering his heart rate. Willing it down, he watched it fall a few beats per minute while he continued his manipulations of the cuff.

But it was too late.

A woman in a white lab coat rushed into the room. “Mr. Norris, please control yourself. You’re injured.”

Norris stilled and considered his position. She didn’t know that he’d nearly freed one hand, but the longer she talked, the more swelling would occur and he’d be in worse shape if he had a broken, swollen hand ballooning against the leather.

Still, he needed to gather info. “Undo these and I won’t need to struggle. Doctor?”

She didn’t correct him. Instead, she made her way to the monitors, her eyes beady as she took in the numbers. She was younger than him, but not by much. There was no hospital insignia on her lab coat and under it she wore street clothes.

A private physician of some sort. The fact that she didn’t give her name was also telling.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible given the circumstances. You’ve been deemed a flight risk,” she informed him, remaining interested in the machines and refusing to speak directly to him.

Norris wasn’t entirely certain what to make of her, but his gut feeling wasn’t good. Nothing added up here, particularly her.

But why keep him alive? Unless…