The Dragon's Wing Page 9

  “Fair enough,” I panted, breathless and not sure if it was from practically running in high heels or from his kiss, because holy wow.

  “Here,” he announced after tugging me down who knew how many different corridors and a short narrow staircase. “Your helper will be here any second to get you out. I have to go back to the party so that no one suspects I had anything to do with this. I don't need that extra kind of scrutiny on me at the moment.”

  “Understood. Thank you… for um, you know. Saving me.” My gratitude was awkward because while he had definitely saved me from Mr. Grey's clutches, twice now, he was also a murdering criminal who, from what I had learned tonight, was involved in everything from drugs to prostitution to money laundering.

  “I doubt this is the last time I'll be seeing you, dragă.” He looked across the underground car park behind me and tipped his head to someone. “Your friend is here. Good luck.” He dropped a very gentlemanly kiss on my hand, then took off back the way we had come.

  “Kit, let's move! We're late!” A familiar voice echoed across the concrete garage to me, and I grinned.

  “Jonathan?” I hurried over to where he stood with one other man who was clearly an Omega Agent. “How the hell? What?”

  “I will explain on the way home, the best I can. Right now, we need to get going while everyone is moderately distracted. Dragomir only allowed me to bring one agent with me, so we are still severely outgunned.” The stern look on his face let me know that he was a lot more concerned than he was letting on.

  “Got it.” I nodded. “Let's move.”

  He led the way down the garage, past millions of dollars worth of luxury cars, and towards the official-looking black SUV at the end, which I assumed was our escape vehicle.

  My heels clicked on the concrete, echoing ominously, and I very suddenly got an uneasy feeling in my gut.

  “Jonathan,” I murmured, stopping in my tracks as my hands broke out in a sweat. “Something's wrong. Something bad is about to happen.”

  My foster father turned to look at me with a deep frown creasing his brows while the agent accompanying him snorted and rolled his eyes.

  “Seriously? We don't have time to pander to your daughter's feminine nervousness, sir,” the man said, turning away from us again and continuing towards the car.

  He didn't even make it three steps before his body jolted and dropped to the ground like a sack of garbage. Red blood splattered the ground around him, and a thick puddle of it began pooling from under his body.

  My gaze darted frantically around for the best place to get cover, but we were totally exposed in the middle of the garage. What was worse, we were surrounded. Lethal looking men stepped out from their hiding places behind cars, guns pointed directly at Jonathan and me as they approached carefully.

  Shit. I knew this had been too easy.

  A slow clap echoed across the silent room, accompanied by the sound of men's dress shoes clicking over the hard ground.

  “Guess you were right, hey Foxy Girl? Something bad is definitely about to happen,” Mr. Grey leered, a demented grin spread across his face as he stepped into the light.

  No one spoke. The only movement in the room was the pooling blood beneath the dead Omega Agent.

  “I knew you'd try and pull a stunt like this,” the disgusting old man continued. “You've proven time and time again over the years how slippery you can be, and after you escaped me at the Onyx Auction, I decided to come prepared. And early.” He smirked at me, the victory written all over his face.

  Quickly, Kit. What are your options here?

  Jonathan would be packing; he was the head of a spy company, for goodness sake. The issue was that no less than seventeen heavily armed mercenaries surrounded us. If we were getting out of this mess, I was going to need to make the first move, and fast.

  Sizing up each of the armed men, I considered my best target while Mr. Grey kept on with his glory speech.

  “Yes, I see you have noticed how well prepared I came this time. You won't be escaping me again, Foxy Girl. Oh no. You're mine now until I am finished with you, and then you'll be dead.” He cackled like an escaped mental patient, and I blocked out his vile words. This wasn't the time or place to surrender to my fears. I was stronger than that now.

  Target selected, I gave Jonathan a small head tilt, just enough warning to let him know I was up to something, before moving. I needed to trust that he could hold his own, as worrying for his safety would only get both of us killed.

  I dove left, pushing my full speed into my leap and swinging my fist into the man's face. His nose burst in an explosion of blood and cartilage while I relieved him of his weapon. When my body hit the ground, completing my leap, the gun in my hands was already firing.

  My first instinct had been to shoot Mr. Grey, but Austin's dickhead voice rattled through my brain, reminding me to take out the biggest threats first. In this case, it was the armed mercenaries. I could take down Mr. Grey once they had been dealt with, and I could take my sweet ass time with it too. That thought spurred me on, and I popped off round after round of bullets from my procured weapon.

  Ducking behind an ostentatious, bright yellow Lamborghini, I darted a quick look around to check where Jonathan had ended up. To my relief, he also had a weapon in his hand and was crouched diagonally opposite me behind a lime green Ferrari. I raised my eyebrows at him in a silent question, and he nodded back sharply. He was okay.

  A round of automatic gun fire hitting the car I was hiding behind had me pulling my head back in and ducking low as the glass from the shattered windows rained down on me. The assault on the car continued, and I quickly rolled underneath it, then slithered my way over to the next car. Compared to the heavyset men, I was probably the only one small enough to fit under the low sports cars, so they wouldn't even think to check them.

  “Don't be fucking stupid, girl!” Mr. Grey bellowed from his hiding place. “You are way outnumbered; you'll never leave this garage alive!”

  “Good,” I snapped, popping up from my new location and dispatching two more of his goons with clean shots to their heads. I had barely seen the second fall when a weight like a freight truck hit me from the side, throwing me behind another car and landing on top of me with a pained groan.

  “What the fuck?” I hissed, not wanting to draw attention to my location but also trying to push the dead weight off me. I was too vulnerable trapped like that. Too defenseless.

  “Get off!” Heaving with all my strength, I pushed the solidly built, six-foot-four man off me.

  “Do you fucking mind?” he hissed back at me. “I just took a goddamn bullet for you, and this is the thanks I get?”

  I paused, squinting my eyes at him. The spot we had ended up in between two huge black Hummers was in shadows, but there was no mistaking the pair of granite gray eyes scowling back at me.

  “Vali?” My voice came out in a startled squeak. “What the hell? I thought you went back to the party. What do you mean you took a bullet for me?” I was trying to keep my voice down, but the tension was making it difficult.

  “Call me crazy, but I knew you were in trouble again,” he muttered. “And I meant exactly what I just said. There was a man about to shoot you when you weren't looking.” His face held a tight, pinched expression and was quickly draining of color.

  Kneeling, I glanced around to make sure we were sufficiently blocked from view. Trying to be as gentle as I could under the circumstances, I yanked his suit jacket off, also pulling my silly lace mask off to give me better visibility.

  “Shit.” I breathed, seeing the huge amount of red staining my hands. Carefully, I rolled him over so I could see his back and the entry wound, and sucked in a shocked gasp.

  How was he still conscious?

  “Vali…” I started, then lost the words. It looked like the bullet had caught him just below his shoulder blade and most likely pierced his lung. Right on cue, his breathing gave a wet, rattling noise and the blood on his back bu
bbled.

  A sharp burst of gunfire started up again on the other side of the garage, and I was reassured to hear Jonathan still putting up a fight. The soft scuff of a shoe on polished concrete alerted me to someone sneaking up, just in enough time to whirl around and face them, gun at the ready.

  “Oh dear, what has happened here?” Mr. Grey tsked with heavy sarcasm. He was pointing a small, silver handgun at me while I held my semi-automatic trained on him.

  “You stupid old fuck,” I sneered at him. “You should have known I would rather go down in a storm of blood and bullets than ever be at your mercy again.”

  His grin slipped just a little as he peered at my face, for the first time getting a close look at my eyes and hopefully reading the hatred and determination there. I wanted him dead, and I no longer carried the same respect for life that had kept him alive this long. After all I had seen in the past few months, all I had done and all I had learned, my prior reluctance to end a life was in the trash. I hoped he saw all of that in my expression.

  He cleared his throat as though nervous, and the barrel of his gun quivered the tiniest bit. “Well, it seems we are at an impasse. My men have your companion busy, and I have a gun pointed at you.”

  “As I do you,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but you have a choice to make. You can shoot me and I can shoot you, blah blah all of that. Or you can let me leave and stand a chance of helping your friend there.” As if on cue, a wet rattling groan came from Vali's half-dead body on the ground behind me.

  Shit.

  I wanted Mr. Grey dead. I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything. But I couldn't just let Vali die. He had helped me, and despite my casual disregard for life in circumstances such as this, when guns were pointed at my head, I couldn't in good conscience let Vali die just to further my own vendetta.

  “Leave,” I growled at Mr. Grey through clenched teeth. “But watch your back, old man. I'm coming for you.”

  “As I am for you, Foxy.” He winked, then took off towards his waiting car, keeping his pistol trained on me until he was safely inside.

  The screeching tires of his car peeling out of the garage filled my ears as I dropped my gun and collapsed to my knees beside Vali's motionless form.

  “Shit,” Jonathan swore, jogging over to us and seeing the mess that was the Romanian's back.

  “Jonathan, get help,” I begged, fluttering my hands over the wound, unsure what to do. Jonathan carefully grabbed my hand, placing it over a folded wad of Vali's ruined suit jacket and pressing it over the gaping wound.

  “Press down,” he murmured. “It will slow the blood flow, but Kit…”

  “Stop it; I don't want to hear it,” I snapped. “Just get help. He can't die because of me.” I heard Jonathan heave a sigh and stand up, but I wasn't paying him any more attention as my vision clouded over with tears.

  “Please don't die,” I whispered, hunching over til my lips were against Vali's ear. “I don't know why I feel like this around you, but I just know you can't die. Please, please, please, just hang on. We are getting help.”

  Tears ran rivers down my face, dripping onto his skin, but he didn't move a muscle.

  15

  Within minutes, the wad of fabric I was holding pressed to Vali's wound had soaked right through and was slipping under my hand's pressure. With a scream of frustration, I threw it aside and tore the sodden shirt fabric away from the bullet hole. Hopefully the pressure from my hand alone would be enough to keep him alive until help arrived. It had to be better than the soaked fabric slipping and bumping the injury every few seconds.

  “Don't die, don't die, don't die,” I chanted in a panicked whisper to keep myself from completely dissolving. My breath was already coming in short, sharp gasps, and the tears were flowing so fast I could barely see. The only reassurance I had that he was still alive was the wet, gasping sound of his breathing and the slight suction against my hand where air kept trying to pull through the wound.

  Fuck! What use was this supposed magic if I couldn't save someone's life?

  Despite Dupree's claims that I should be able to heal others just the same way I heal myself, I had yet to work out how. Or even if I could. In the time since her revelation, I had stubbornly refused to allow the boys to deliberately hurt themselves in order for me to practice. It was madness. What if she was lying? Or just plain wrong? I hadn’t been willing to risk that.

  Come on you stupid, good for nothing magic. If you actually do work on other people, now would be the perfect fucking time!

  I stared hard at the seeping blood beneath my hand, straining, pushing with every mental facet I possessed, trying to make the healing work. Nothing happened.

  Why wasn't Jonathan back with help yet?

  Collapsing beside Vali's huge body, I made sure to keep the pressure on his wound while I lay my face on the floor beside his.

  “I'm so sorry,” I whispered. “Everyone around me keeps ending up hurt. I'm like Midas, but instead of turning things to gold, everything I touch turns to shit.” His lashes fluttered slightly, giving me a small spike of hope.

  “Hey, I saw that. Can you hear me?” His deathly pale face didn't show any sign of consciousness, but I was positive his lashes had moved before. “Don't you ignore me you… you… dickhead.” I was upset; it was the best I could come up with. “If you die on me right now, Dragomir, I am going to find some spell, or something, and bring you back just to kill you myself!”

  This time when his eyelids fluttered, I knew I wasn't imagining it.

  “Hey,” I coaxed, trying to get a reaction from him. “I see you. I still can't work out why you seem so familiar, by the way. Have we met before?” I was rambling, but it was better than crying. It was all I could think of to do until help arrived. My hand was still on his back holding pressure against the wound, but optimistically, it almost felt like the bleeding had slowed. Which was a good thing, right? Or did that mean he was dying? Shit!

  “Vali! Hey!” I said a little more sharply, worrying that the eyelid twitches had been him slipping further away from me. “Hey, wake up. Talk to me. You still have to tell me why the hell you keep saving my life, remember?” His eyelashes fluttered again, but this time stayed open a bit longer. His mesmerizing gray eyes peered at me from behind his heavy lids. His mouth twitched, like he was trying to say something, and I shushed him.

  “Don't try and talk, you idiot. I just wanted you awake so I knew you weren't giving up. Talking with a hole in your back just seems like a dumb idea.” My nervous rambling was reaching all new levels as my tight voice stepped up an octave.

  Vali glared at me, I think, then moved his mouth again. This time a tiny whisper came out, and I reflexively leaned closer to hear what he was trying to say.

  “…am I hot?” was what I heard, but that can't have been right. I leaned back to look at him, frowning.

  “Did you just ask if I think you're hot? Seriously? I really don't think now is the time.” I rolled my eyes at his vanity, and he gave a tiny headshake.

  “Why am I so hot?” This time when he spoke, the words were a little clearer but still made no sense.

  “This seems like a really weird question to be asking when you've been shot, Vali. I don't know why you're so hot. Maybe it's the bad boy thing you have going on? Or the whole two percent body fat situation that I am sure you have spent too much time in the gym to achieve. You've got pretty great hair, I guess. I don't usually go for the longer hair on guys, but you pull it off well. I think it's your eyes I like the most though.” Oh god, panic was making me word vomit even worse than when he had drugged me on the plane.

  A tiny smile played across his lips, marred only by the blood that was pulling through his damaged lung with each breath. Proof that if he didn't get help soon, he would either bleed out or effectively drown in his own blood.

  “I'm not that vain,” he whispered. “I mean, why is it so hot in here? I feel like I'm on fire.”

  “Oh.” My face flamed
in embarrassment. Stupid, Kit. I took a moment to consider the temperature and frowned. It was freezing in the garage, especially where we lay on the floor. How hadn't I noticed how cold it was sooner?

  Sitting up a little, I ran my free hand over his face and found him sweating.

  “Shit, you really are burning up!” I exclaimed, running my hand down to his neck and yanking his tie loose to undo his shirt.

  “Told you,” he murmured. “I don't hurt as much any more. That's probably not a good thing, huh?”

  No, it probably wasn't. “Keep your face on the ground; it's freezing cold so might help bring your temperature down. I can't believe you're still alive right now, by the way; you have lost just so much blood.”

  “Anyone ever tell you how great your bedside manner is, dragă?” he snorted but really did sound better than he had moments before. The wet, rattling gasp to his breathing was gone.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, chewing my lip. “I suck in these situations. Where the hell is Jonathan with that help? How hard is it to call a freaking ambulance? Where the hell are we anyway? I don't even know what fucking country we are in right now!”

  “Kit, calm down. Can you have another look at my back? It's burning. Like, really burning.” Vali whispered the words, but there was a thread of tension in his voice that snapped me out of my rambling.

  Careful to keep the pressure over the wound, I scrambled to my knees and gave his shirt a sharp tug from the collar to tear it so I could see better. Superhuman strength definitely came in handy for tasks like that. Not that being able to see his skin helped much, considering it was slick with blood.

  “Vali, I don't know what I'm looking for. Where exactly is it burning? Maybe there is an injury I haven't seen? Or is it this one, and it's like a side effect of the pain or, I don't know, something?” Paramedic, I was not. I ran my fingers across his stained skin, searching for anything I might have missed in the dim lighting.