Chapter 70

I know what it feels like to be swine roasting over a spit. It’s like a double-edged stake has run me through, my insides coiled around its shaft. Every mere inhalation is a gut-wrenching skewer twisting ever deeper, slow and excruciating. Not even in my current surroundings can dim my agony. Every man’s wet dream manifested—a risque roleplay with a CIA operative and a stripper who’s currently wearing nothing but a lacy bodysuit, a lattice of black barely covering the naughty bits. It would definitely make for an interesting porno. The stripper crosses her arms, covering her nipples and that makes me look away, fixing my eyes on beach blondie who’s glaring at me reprovingly, with the outrage of a betrayed lover.

“Need I ask the obvious?”

“Your welcome,” the stripper says, her accent polished, no longer the remnants of the rough intonations I heard glimpses of. Her enunciation refined, faultlessly ironing out any foreign modulations. “I saved your life, but that might all be for nothing.”

She flicks Emilia a dirty look and sashays a few steps away from her.

Emilia grips my gaze with a somber look. “Do you remember what you said before you passed out?”

I tilt my head back to fully look at the ceiling. “I know it must have had to do with Hadassah.”

“And Orian Moon,” she fills in.

“You guys can’t debrief here. I suggest you take him to a secure location before someone catches wind. Eventually, the security team will realize there is missing footage in the timestamps from when he arrived.”

“I have to find her.”

The moment I try to even lift my torso—a burst of pain surges through me and my back hits the bed with a pathetic cry, but I don’t let that stop me. I try again, and the next blazing burst seizes every tendon and nerve in my body, a burning sear that triumphs over fire’s touch. Emilia comes to me and tries to help me up and the punishing pain clamps on my gut, compressing my stomach with unbearable pressure. My consciousness slips for a second as black dots flit in and out and before I know it—I’m standing with Emilia’s hand on my chest to help support and keep me stable. She tries to guide me to the door and it ignites a tendril of pain with each step—the phantom blade penetrating deeper, puncturing through skin and soul, enough to make me want to cry but I don’t.

An eternity passes before we reach the back entrance. A huge black bouncer guards the door. He seems oddly familiar. He spots us on approach and opens the door for us without question. Another strenuous interval ensues before we cross the threshold. And the bouncer follows after us. I see the steep concrete slope and I quite nearly collapse as my body gives in before my mind allows it. And I find myself sagging against Emilia, forced to endure almost my full weight upon her.

“I got this.”

The bouncer takes my arm and slides it smoothly over his shoulders before he gathers me in his arms and carries me bridal-style. This is top tier, the most emasculating moment of my life—even in front of my CIA crush, but I’m way too relieved to even care.

“Damn,” I say jokingly. “You're not even going to ask me out to dinner first? What happened to hello?”

“Hello,” he grunts back.

Emilia moves ahead to open the passenger side of her car. The bouncer puts me inside the way a dad would put their toddler in a car seat. I give him a straight nod, mumbling a thank you. He withdraws and then I see the stripper in the doorway, poised in erotic elegance with her one arm sliding up against the frame. The door closes on my face suddenly and I snap back.

“Can you put on your seatbelt or you need help with that, too?”

The distinct note of condescension makes me lose feelings fast.

“Honey, I was shot,” I point out with a stank face more foul than that granny panty wrapped coochie that I know is just suffering in that old ass pants suit. “And then I was pierced by a tsuka sword, not that you know or understand. Your body is giving, parked behind the desk, type agent.”

“You saw me during the field operation at Torin’s penthouse?”

“Only thing I saw was Hadassah kicking your royal ass,” I answer in the most melodramatic English accent I can conjure.

“Keep talking and the next bullet that hits you will be a head-shot.”

I turn my head to swing over a look of mock terror. “Oh shiver me timbers.”

She reverses the car out of the alley and speeds away. The compounded pain and the swirling nausea from her driving is a deadly combo. My hand finds my delicate stomach and I rest my head against the seat, jaw ticking with every harsh turn. It’s early morning and the streets are mostly vacant with morning sunrise pink-hued light pouring down the streets. My head rolls to the side to inspect the deeply contemplative look on Emilia’s face. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but her inner turmoil is etched in every taut crease in her face, her features screwed up in a pensive frown. I know I put her in a precarious position that will likely force her to face disciplinary action. She owes me no such loyalty, so it makes me wonder why she would jeopardize herself like that.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I’m trying to figure that out.”

The strain in my stomach tightens like someone’s wringing out my intestines.

“You don’t perhaps have a stash of morphine laying around?”

She curses and jabs the steering wheel twice out of pure frustration. “There’s only one place I know for sure you would be safe.”

I make an unsure sound; a high-pitched whine. “I don’t know. I felt more safe with the stripper and the incredible black hulk than I do with you.”

She glances at me askance and almost chokes on a retort.

“That stripper is an Albanian undercover operative that works for an independent foreign counterintelligence agency. No ties to any country. No loyalty to anyone.”

“How did you two cross paths?”

“An operation in Istanbul. She covered me for me and I saved her life. We were even until you came along.”

Pursing my lips into a patronizing pout, I glance back at her. “Aw, I’m sorry that my near-death experience is such an inconvenience for you. It’s totally my fault that a cartel boss abducted and is probably torturing her as we—” that reality strikes me, cutting my words short, horror ensnaring my breaths.

“We’re going to find her,” Emilia says quickly. “We have the full support and resources of the bureau behind us.”

I shake my head timidly and I whisper my worst fear. “It won’t be enough.”