Something like the fact that his lips are still on mine. We’re still locked in a lover’s embrace. It’s only been seconds, but it feels like an eternity. He starts to pull away, slowly, letting his lips glide over mine, his tongue teasing over them so gently.
I nip him in return, my teeth sinking into his full lower lip, and it draws blood. He pulls back, using his free hand to swipe at his chin, staring at the evidence of my violence on the pads of his fingers. Then he presses them to my lips, spreading the crimson stain over my mouth and staring at the mess he's made.
“You’ll regret that,” he warns. Somehow, I don’t think I will. I have a feeling I’ll wish I did more damage.
“Ihateyou.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.” There’s a grin on his face, the kind you use to cover your emotions, filled with a distant kind of misery that’s all too familiar. I almost feel a strange sort of sympathy to see it reflected back at me.
But I can’t think about that now. Now it’s about us surviving because worse than what he could do is what the drug can do. We both had more than our fair share tonight, and we could overdose with no one to find us until morning.
“It settles if you don’t shake it up. You’ve probably had…” I try to warn him. “Too much…”
“Too much what? What is it? What did you give me?” He presses for answers.
“It’s…” But my words are fading as fast as my memory, and I’m tired. So incrediblytired.
EIGHT
Levi
I feelthe slither of guilt up my spine as I slip the needle out of her arm, smoothing the Band-Aid over the pinprick-size wound. I need her out while I finish off what we started. She’s given me no other choice.
I watch her breathing for a few moments, the rise and fall of her chest, before I finish gathering the bag of things I collected from around her room. A phone under the mattress, an old journal tucked in her desk, a smattering of paperwork, and personal items like her passport. I don’t bother with her clothes or shoes.
I make her bed, and I straighten the room. I put out the coals in the metal container she lit to torture me with, disinfect the implement she used to burn me, and put everything back the way I remember it being on the desk. I tried to make mental notes of it while she worked, but the fog of whatever drug she used on me still hangs heavy. I need them to think she’s around here somewhere for as long as possible. The more time we have, the more likely it is that we get away.
I check her again, holding my hand in front of her lips when I don’t immediately see her chest move. She’s still breathing. It’s shallow and slow. The injection I gave her will do that. I just hope it doesn’t interact with whatever else she’s had. The search of her room didn’t turn up any more of it.
I run my knuckles down her cheek, and her lashes flutter in response, like she might open them. I doubt I’ll ever see the blues of her eyes light up when she smiles at me or hear her melodic laugh again. It’s a shame. I’d grown fond of both. But I don’t have time to ponder the things that might have been, only time to act on the now. And right now, I have an ever-narrowing window of time to get her to the airport.
It’sa dreary night on the private tarmac just outside of Munich. The lights scatter across the small pools of water, and the rain has slowed to a mist as I pull up in front of the industrial garage and put the car in park. I hop out, grateful to see that Rowan’s already here and waiting as he leans against the doorframe. The faster we get out of here, the better.
“Well fuck,” Rowan mutters as he approaches the car.
“Fuck indeed,” I grouch back as I round the front to open her door. She’s still out cold, but she’s started to move more, and the faster we get her on the plane, the better. This whole plan has gone to hell.
“You need help?” Rowan’s brow furrows as he looks down at the redheaded bundle in the back of the car.
“I’ve got her.” I lean down and pull her out, careful to guard her head as I navigate the car door. I don’t want anyone else holding her right now, not when she’s this vulnerable. I've frightened her enough tonight. I don't need her waking up in astranger’s arms. Though she might prefer it once she remembers what I’ve done.
“She out cold?” He surveys her as she hangs limply in my arms, her head lulling against my chest with each step.
“Yeah.”
“What did you use on her?” The furrow in his forehead deepens.
“Midazolam. But she has something else in her system too.”
“What?” He’s very interested in all the details. Rowan likes to be in full control of a situation like this. I’ve put him on edge with my sudden need for a late-night extraction when he was already on a job for Charlotte.
“No idea. Whatever she used on me. Left me a little groggy but functional. She put it in a drink she gave me,” I explain as he motions for us to walk toward the front of the building. I can see the wings of his, or rather Hudson’s, private jet sticking out past the walls in the distance and feel a keen sense of relief. I was sure I was going to see the inside of a German police station tonight.
“She used it on you?” His interest is piqued, and I hear the thread of amusement.
“She drugged me so she could question me. It didn't go well for her, considering she gave me exactly what I needed to get her out of there,” I explain in a clipped tone. I’m embarrassed for myself, but there’s a part of me that’s proud of her. The way she figured me out and tried to take control back instead of just running scared to the abbess or her father was impressive.
“Well, at least she was good for something.” His biting humor cuts through the wee hour.
