Jace didn’t say anything. She must have read his mind, as she often did, because she waved her hands in front of her chest. “No. No way. We are not taking him with us.”
“You were the one who was right, Laurel.” Jace hugged her tight, trying to subdue her trembling, which he knew had no more to do with being cold than her goose bumps had earlier. “We’ve gotta help the people who were in the old canning station tonight, wherever they are now. This guy knows what’s up with that. I’m sure of it. We’ll get the info and then dump him. Come on, help me get him to the cabs.”
“We’re going to take him where? To our place? Do we really want him knowing where we live?” Laurel asked pretty valid questions. It wasn’t like Jace took hostages every day, though. He wasn’t an expert. What the hell option did they have? They had nowhere else to go.
“We’ll blindfold him before he comes to and after we get answers we’ll toss him in another cab back here or maybe drive him to a bus stop on the other side of the city.” Jace sounded more confident than he felt.
“Uh…” Laurel didn’t seem convinced, but she too seemed to regret the way they’d parted earlier. It was always like this with them. They were on the same path. They just couldn’t get their shit together enough to walk in step. She licked her lips, making him wish for the thousandth time that day alone that he had the right to kiss them. “Okay. Fine. Let’s do it quick before he wakes up.”
Jace nodded. “He’s a big motherfucker. Why couldn’t he have been scrawny? Let’s get our arms around him. Act like he’s blackout drunk and I’ll do the rest, okay? I’ll hit his head on the window if he starts to come to.”
“Yeah. Sure. Let’s go.” Laurel planted her feet and crouched before slinging one of the guy’s arms around her shoulders. Several tattoos of much better quality than Jace’s poked out from beneath his fancy jacket. The dude could probably hike to the North Pole without freezing to death in that thing. He didn’t seem like one of Draven’s regular henchmen.
Please, God, don’t let this be another huge mistake. Jace cursed. When would their past leave them the hell alone? When would they really be free of it? Ever?
He used his anger to fuel himself as he levered the unconscious guy to something approaching vertical, his head lolling from side to side. Laurel steadied him on the other side, and together they waddled their way to where only one taxi was idling in the parking lot. Someone was ahead of them in line, but Jace said, with his best friendly grin, “Would you mind? I’d like to get this dumbass home before he gets sick again.”
“Ah… yeah. Go right ahead.” The dude waved them ahead and even held the door for them. No one wanted to be around for that.
“Thanks.”
“We’ve all had those nights.” The club patron chuckled.
Except they hadn’t. Jace didn’t drink to excess. Never had, never would, because the last thing he ever wanted was to be out of control of his situation again. No fucking thanks.
Jace leaned forward to tell the cabbie their address rather than shouting it—just in case—but when he checked on their captive, there was no hint the guy would be waking up any time soon. He hoped he hadn’t seriously injured the fucker. He didn’t want that on his conscience.
It was a shame he’d had to put his fist to such a pretty face. And that hair, damn. Even after their tussle it looked like it belonged on a Hollywood action movie star more than an everyday man.
Ugh. Jace must be hard up if he was thinking the evil prick who’d tried to steal Laurel was hot as hell. But he’d sure never seen one of Draven’s stooges look like this before.
Laurel was peeking over Jace’s shoulder too.
“You recognize him?” Jace murmured in her ear.
She shook her head, then stared out the window. It seemed like she might have been holding her breath until they pulled up outside their building. Then she came around to the curb and helped Jace wrangle the dude out of the car. Their captive groaned when Jace planted his shoulder in the guy’s flat-as-fuck abdomen and hefted him over his shoulder, but stayed draped there as Jace hauled him up the stairs and inside.
It only took a minute before they’d sacrificed the tie from Laurel’s robe and the cords from the toaster and a lamp to lash the bastard to one of their mismatched kitchen chairs. Then they stood back, getting their first good look at the man.
He seemed more like someone Jace would screw than one of Draven’s lackeys. Black cargo pants doing a piss poor job of hiding shredded quads and his pristine windbreaker unable to camouflage his excellent upper body conditioning. What the hell had they gotten themselves into?
Jace went into the bedroom and grabbed a bandana, which he used to blindfold their captive.
Then he turned to Laurel. “What now?”
4
“You’re asking me?” Laurel’s semi-shriek roused Nolan from unconsciousness. He stifled a groan when the pounding in his jaw and the base of his neck brought him the rest of the way out of his fog. He gingerly ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all still there and not-so wiggly without alerting Laurel and the guy who’d come to her rescue that he was awake. “This was your idea!”
“I had to do something! You’re the one who ran off without a plan and didn’t even bother to wait a damn second for me to come around when you leapt out of bed and decided to singlehandedly save the world.”
“Fuck. I didn’t help anyone.” Laurel sounded defeated. “The only thing I did was risk what we’ve built. I’m sorry, Jace.”
Jace, huh? So that was the guy with the steely eyes who’d seen too damn much and knew his way around a street fight. He hadn’t been suave, but he sure as hell had been effective and brave, attacking without hesitation. Nolan could appreciate that.
“Nah, it’s me who fucked up. I should have stuck with you, no matter what. But I’m not as decent as you. I’m not a superhero. I’m just some guy who’s trying to put his life together after being shit on. And, I admit it, the thought of being sucked back into that scares the piss out of me.”
Now that made Nolan groan under his breath. The raw emotion, their vulnerability, and how easy it was for them to be honest about it with each other. Damn. These two had been through so much.
He probably shouldn’t have touched Laurel, and certainly not in the aggressive way he had, grabbing her and subduing her as he hauled her into the woods. Except she’d been so damn close to giving herself away, and he was at heart a covert operator. Storming the club by himself, unprepared, to bring her out again wasn’t a possibility. Losing her wasn’t an option. No way was he going to report back to the Shields, and especially James, that she’d slipped through his fingers. He hadn’t had time for subtlety.
It was only because Nolan had been trying to avoid hurting either of them that Laurel’s bodyguard, boyfriend—or whatever the hell Jace was to her—had gotten that hook in. The one that had given her the opening to squash his poor balls, which even now felt like they’d been relocated somewhere around his navel. Ugh.
Still, it was obvious his captors weren’t professionals. And he was.