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“It’s not that.” I turned away from him as spots blurred the edges of my vision. My stomach roiled. I bent over and vomited against the brick wall.
Probably a concussion. Fuck me.
“Come on, Red,” TJ’s friend said.
I wondered why he called me that. A reference to my hair, obviously. But why hadn’t TJ told him my name? I didn’t verbalize my curiosity because I was weak and unstable and didn’t have energy to waste on unimportant questions.
“Next stop is the hospital,” my rescuer said.
Shutting down that dangerous plan was important enough to exert some of my limited strength. “No hospital! There could be more of them there.”
He furrowed his brow. “Carbonados?”
So TJ had at least told him that much. I nodded, but the movement made my contusion throb.
“You need a doctor,” he said.
“I am a doctor.” If TJ had trusted his friend with information about Carbonados, I couldn’t fathom why he hadn’t told the man more about me. But I’d worry about that later. “Just get me to HEAT HQ and I’ll be fine.”
“HEAT? What the—” He stopped speaking.
I wobbled on my Louboutin stilettos. The earth shifted on its axis. I had a split second to anticipate what was happening. I aimed for my rescuer’s arms. He caught me and pulled me tightly to his hard chest. And then the world went black.
