Page 8
Blink
“FBI. Drop your weapons!”
Blink
“I’m riding in the ambulance with her,” Zak growled.
“The only ride you’re taking is to the police station. You kidnapped a federal agent, Vlaschenko.”
“I’m. Riding. With. Her.”
Blink
“For God’s sake, give her something for pain.”
“Stay out of their way, Zak, or I’ll put you back in handcuffs.”
“I apologize, Agent Biggs. And thank you for everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t completely gotten you off the hook.”
“You will.”
There was nothing else.
Only absolute silence.
Steady beeping that matched the beat of my heart was the next thing I heard. The incessant noise made it so sleep was no longer a viable option. My vision was blurry at first, slowly clearing to reveal plain white walls. There was a trace of antiseptic tickling my nose, giving away my location. Hospital.
“You’re awake,” Zak’s smooth tenor voice sounded from my left. “Are you in pain? Thirsty? Hungry?”
I inhaled, deep and slow, through my nose, taking stock of my body. Did I have pain? God yes, though nowhere anywhere near the level of intensity it had been in the warehouse. It was more of a muted throb beneath my skin.
“Prudence, talk to me. Tell me what you need.”
Before I could respond, a soft chuckle filled the room.
“Give her a chance to answer you, brother.”
Makari?
Until that moment, I had assumed we were alone. The four kings rarely did anything separately, moving as a singular unit regarding business decisions. I shouldn’t have presumed a rescue would be any different.
“I’m”—my voice was raw and scratchy—“okay.”
“You’re not.” My boss’s hand encircled mine, providing me with a sense of safety I hadn’t felt in a long time. If ever. “But you will be.”
My eyelids grew heavy and my mind foggy as warmth flooded my veins.
Just before sleep claimed me again, I heard Kasimir scolding his best friend. “It’s called patient controlled analgesia for a reason, Zak. The patient is supposed to decide when they want a dose of morphine, not the patient’s psychotic whatever you are.”
“Fuck off, asshole. She was obviously in pain.”
I was still groggy hours later, and in the midst of a heated stare down with my controlling boss, who refused to wait in the hallway while the nurse changed the bandage on my leg, when the door to my room suddenly swung open, slamming into the wall. Before I could utter a word, four black handguns were drawn and aimed at the seething brunette standing in the doorway. I hadn’t been expecting her, though in hindsight, I should’ve known better.
My sister’s hazel eyes narrowed on the man at my bedside, completely dismissing the Glock in his hand. “Who the hell are you?”
“Zakhar Vlaschenko. Who the hell are you?” He snarled back, unfazed by her piss-poor attitude.
