Out of the Shadows Page 11

  Getting in close, he pried a thumb off and isolated the joint, bending and pushing hard in just the right way—

  “Ow! Shit!” Matthews let go.

  Devon shot two quick punches to his gut, catching him against his shoulder as the man began to double over. He slapped him on the back as though they were sharing a friendly man-hug, then hissed in his ear.

  “I won’t hesitate to leave your dead body in the street if you cause me trouble again. The woman waiting for me is worth anything I have to do to get her the help she needs. Now get your arse in the boot before I break something you’d prefer remain intact.”

  The doctor was smart enough to accept defeat, climbing painfully into the boot, an arm held tight against his abdomen. A few zip ties later, he was secure, to Devon’s satisfaction.

  “Hold this and don’t try anything stupid.” Devon tossed the duffel onto his lap, then closed him in.

  It again took too long to get back to Ivy and frustration dogged Devon while worry gnawed at his gut. Being without Ivy wasn’t an option. She would get better. She just had an illness, like a strain of flu. The doctor could diagnose her properly, give her something to alleviate the nausea, then she’d be able to keep food down and would be better soon, perhaps even by morning.

  But Devon’s hopeful optimism burst into panic the moment he pushed Matthews into the room ahead of him and saw Ivy was gone.

  There was a man standing right behind me. I gasped and spun around.

  It was Scott.

  How he’d found us, I had no idea, but he was blocking me in to the little room with the vending machines and ice maker. I had no weapon on me, nothing to fight with. Just my fists.

  “No—!” I threw myself at him, hoping to knock him aside, and it didn’t seem like he’d been expecting that because it worked. In the next instant, I was sprinting down the hall.

  “Ivy! Wait!”

  Like hell, I’d wait.

  I hit the stairwell door and burst through it. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I couldn’t stop. We were on the fifth floor and I took the stairs at a run, hearing Scott enter just feet behind me.

  Panic coursed through me. I couldn’t let him get me. He’d take me back to them and the needles and the poking and prodding . . .

  I was gasping for air as I rounded another flight, and the room spun. I stumbled, my hand reflexively reaching out to grab the handrail, and I missed.

  “Ivy!”

  Scott’s cry echoed around me as I fell, the edge of the stairs catching me in the ribs and tossing me down further. My head cracked against concrete and everything swam in my vision. Finally, I came to a stop, but couldn’t move. I was hurting and it was difficult to breathe, my lungs squeezed tight with the effort.

  “Ivy, holy shit, talk to me,” Scott said, bending over me.

  I blinked slowly up at him, but couldn’t speak. I felt a trickle of blood from my nose.

  Scott muttered a curse, then slid an arm under my knees and another behind my back before lifting me up. He carried me up a flight and through a door, then down the hallway to another door. I heard him kick the door a couple of times, then it opened.

  Taking me inside, he said, “Found her. And you were right.” I didn’t see who he was talking to as he laid me on the bed. “The nosebleed started a couple of minutes ago.”

  Too weak and disoriented to do anything but lie there, I saw Scott move away and another man take his place at my side.

  Dr. Nayar. The man who’d been in charge of me in the facility. The man I’d walloped upside the head when I escaped.

  I really hoped he didn’t hold a grudge.

  “It’s worse than I thought,” he said to Scott, his face grave. “I just hope you found her in time.”

  He messed with something I couldn’t see, then I felt the prick of a needle in my arm. Tears of helpless frustration stung my eyes and I whimpered. Scott reappeared and brushed my hair back from my face as he dabbed at the blood above my lip. I stared at him, accusing him with my eyes, until I couldn’t keep them open anymore and the lethargy overtook me.

  The first thing I noticed when I woke was how much better I felt. I could breathe again, and though my body ached, I no longer felt as though I didn’t even have the strength to lift my head.

  “Ivy, how are you feeling?”

  My eyes popped open. Scott was here, as was Dr. Nayar, sitting in a chair in the corner, observing me intently.

  “What did you do to me?” I asked the doctor as I sat up, choosing to ignore Scott for the moment.

  “I gave you medication that you desperately needed,” he said.

  “What kind of medication?”

  “Ivy, listen to me—” Scott began.

  “Don’t talk to me,” I hissed, anger filling me. “You betrayed me. They locked me up because I was stupid and trusted you.”

  He actually had the gall to look hurt.

  I made a noise of disgust and climbed off the bed, which wasn’t that brilliant of an idea as the blood rushed from my head and darkness crowded my vision. I swayed on my feet.

  “Take it easy,” Scott said, suddenly right next to me. His arm curved around my back to support me.

  “Stop touching me.” I pushed him away as my vision cleared. “You’re a lying snake.”

  The doctor interrupted. “The medication was to try and stop the virus from killing you.”

  That got my attention. “What are you talking about? I’m vaccinated.” I’d been given the only known vaccine by Dr. Galler himself.

  “We saw it in the blood samples we took from you,” the doctor explained. “A mutated form of the virus. We’ve been trying to find you to give you medication that will help alleviate your symptoms.”

  “But . . . but how?” I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was telling me. Or maybe I didn’t want to.

  “We don’t know,” the doctor said. “You’ve probably noticed flu-like symptoms as well as nosebleeds.”

  “So what happens now?” I asked.

  Dr. Nayar looked grim. “You need to come back with us,” he said. “I don’t know how long the medication I gave you will last.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked, a cold feeling spreading through my chest.

  “The virus was mutated, so I made a guess, an on-the-fly estimate of what would counter it. I’m gratified to see that it’s working, but it is only temporary. I wasn’t able to create something that would rectify it completely.”

  “So I’m temporarily okay? But I’ll probably get sick again? Will I die?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, I think so.”

  Okay, that took a moment to process.

  “You need to come with us, Ivy,” Scott said.

  “I’m not going back,” I said.

  “If you don’t, you’ll die.”

  I looked at the doctor. “Am I contagious?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so.”

  “Can you cure me if I come with you?”

  “I can help you,” the doctor replied. “Help ease the symptoms. But I just don’t know.” He shrugged. “I can’t promise anything.”

  Well at least he was honest. And by glancing outside at the dark sky, I knew I had an even bigger problem.

  Devon.

  If he was back by now and found me gone, he was going to freak.

  “I have to go,” I said. “Devon is going to be looking for me.” I headed for the door, bypassing Scott, who grabbed my arm and pulled me to a halt.

  “You can’t just go, not when you’re going to get sick again,” he said.

  I yanked my arm out of his grip. “I said don’t touch me.”

  “Listen,” he said, his voice now tinged with anger. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead right now.”

  “Oh, so I’m supposed to thank you?” I sneered, getting in his face. “I trusted you. How would you like to be a human guinea pig in a lab? Did you even think about that? I’d still be there if I hadn’t e
scaped. Which reminds me, how exactly did you find us? That part I definitely need to know.”

  “Why? So you can have Devon kill me?” he snapped. “Because that’s exactly what will happen. If you tell him I’m here, he’ll hunt me down and kill me. Is that what you want?”

  That stopped me in my tracks and took the heat from my snit, because it was absolutely true. Devon would shoot first and ask questions later.

  “Fine, I won’t tell him, but I’m not leaving him. If I’m going to die anyway, it certainly won’t be in some government lab. Unless you’re telling me you’re not going to allow me to leave.” I glared at him. “Are there FBI goons outside waiting to cart me away again, Scott?”

  “It’s just me and the doctor,” he answered. “I’m not here to take you prisoner again, though I probably should. I’m trying to keep you alive.” He paused. “I care about you, Ivy. I really do.”

  I didn’t trust him, but neither could I deny that whatever the doctor had given me had made me feel better. If I got too sick, I’d have no choice but to return to their lab.

  “So you’re just going to let me walk out of here?” I asked.

  “If that’s what you want. But take this.” He handed me a cell phone. “It has one number programmed in,” he said. “Mine. Just call me if you need me. If you get sick again and want to come in.”

  I slipped the phone in my pocket, still wondering if I was doing the right thing. But for now, I’d do what he said and see how things played out. I could always “lose” the cell phone if I had to.

  “C’mon,” he said. “I’ll walk you up to your room.”

  “Thank you,” I said to Dr. Nayar, and he nodded at me as I followed Scott out the hotel room door. We headed for the stairwell.

  “Aren’t you worried Devon will see you?” I asked.

  “It’s more important to me to make sure you get back to your room okay,” he said.

  Neither of us looked at each other, our words stiff and not at all like the last time I’d seen him. It bothered me that I’d thought we’d been close friends—possibly more if Devon hadn’t returned—and he’d so quickly turned me over to the FBI. I didn’t trust him, but neither did I want Devon to kill him. And not just for Scott’s sake, but Devon’s, too. He’d killed enough people. He didn’t need to add to his tally.

  “So where did you go after you turned me in?” I asked. “I didn’t exactly see you on visitors’ day.” Okay, so maybe there was more than a little bitterness in my voice.

  “I wasn’t allowed in to see you,” he said. “Believe me, I tried.”

  “And your solution was just to . . . what? Leave me there to rot?”

  Scott didn’t answer, his lips pressed into a thin line. I held my peace, feeling slightly guilty for being so hard on him.

  When we were a few doors away from the motel room, I turned to him. “Far enough,” I said quietly.

  He stopped, but didn’t look happy about it. “He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

  I sighed. “Of course not. He’s probably out of his mind with worry.”

  Scott nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “All right then. Call me. Keep me in the loop. In case you go downhill again.”

  “Okay.” I shifted awkwardly and he turned away.

  “Scott,” I said, and he stopped to glance back. “Thanks.”

  He acknowledged my reluctant gratitude with a slight nod, then disappeared into the stairwell.

  Digging my key card from my pocket, I opened the hotel room door . . . and found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.

  “Bloody hell,” Devon cursed, immediately lowering the weapon and pulling me into his arms. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick.” His hold was so tight on me, I could hardly breathe.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I said, squirming a little. His arms loosened and he pulled me in front of him, looking me over from head to foot. “What’s this?”

  I panicked for a split second, thinking he’d seen a needle mark or something, but he was pointing to my temple where I’d hit the stairs when I’d fallen, which gave me the perfect excuse. I knew I needed to tell him about the virus mutation, I just had to give myself a little time to process the repercussions first.

  I was likely going to die. And sooner rather than later. That wasn’t information you just dumped on somebody, especially the man you loved.

  “I was hungry and went to find a vending machine,” I said. “I must have gotten confused, or turned around, or something because I ended up in the stairwell. I think I passed out and fell, because the next thing I remember is waking up on the floor.”

  Suddenly, Devon swiveled, his arm coming up fast to point his gun at the far corner.

  “You. Don’t move,” he commanded, his voice ice-cold and not to be disobeyed.

  That’s when I noticed someone else was in the room. He’d been sitting and had just stood up.

  “Who’s that?” I asked Devon, indicating the man who couldn’t have been much older than me.

  “The doctor,” he said curtly.

  “He’s too young to be a doctor.” And he looked quite uncomfortable with Devon’s gun pointed at him. “Put that down,” I said. “You’re scaring him.”

  Devon looked at me like I’d sprouted two heads. “That is rather the point.”

  “Where’s he gonna go?”

  Logic seemed to get through to him, and he reluctantly holstered his weapon, his gaze hardening as he glanced back at the doctor.

  “Don’t think I need this to keep you in line,” he warned.

  “Yeah, I get that,” the doctor said.

  “I need you to look at her, find out what’s wrong, and fix it,” Devon said, taking my arm and leading me over to him.

  “Because it’s just that easy?” I asked Devon. I knew the poor guy didn’t have a shot at figuring out what was wrong with me, much less “fixing” it. I turned to the captive doctor. “Hi, I’m Ivy,” I said. “I’m guessing you’re not here of your own free will.”

  “A moot point,” Devon said with a shrug, completely unconcerned that he’d kidnapped a medical professional at gunpoint to force him to perform a house call.

  “It hasn’t been a . . . usual . . . evening, no,” the doctor said. He held a hand out to me. “I’m Dr. Matthews.”

  I took his hand and shook it. “Thanks for coming. My boyfriend is just really worried, that’s all.”

  “You’ve been bleeding from your nose, can’t keep down any food, and were unconscious for hours,” Devon interrupted, sounding irritated. “Of course I’ve been bloody worried.”

  Dr. Matthews looked concerned. “Here, have a seat,” he said, taking my elbow and tugging me gently toward the chair he’d just vacated. He had a large duffel bag with him and he began digging in it as I sat down. “Bloody nose? Nausea? What else?”

  I figured I’d try to make it sound like the flu as best I could. “Oh you know, the usual stuff. Body aches, tired, that sort of thing. I feel better now. I think it was just a twelve-hour bug.”

  “Maybe,” he said, pulling out the requisite blood pressure cuff and stethoscope.

  I endured the usual exam stuff as he listened to my lungs and my heart and took my blood pressure and looked in my eyes and ears. I stayed quiet and hoped he’d finish quickly.

  “Your lungs have a slight crackle when you breathe,” he said, “which concerns me as it could be pneumonia. And your blood pressure is low. Have you been coughing? Having any trouble breathing or shortness of breath?”

  I shook my head. “No. Really, I think it was just a weird bug. I feel fine now.” I turned to Devon. “I’m fine.” Now wasn’t the time for me to tell him the truth. Not when we had an audience.

  “I can’t diagnose anything without getting her to a hospital,” the doctor said. “I’d need to run blood tests to see if she is actually suffering from pneumonia or something else. And I’m guessing there’s a reason you didn’t do that in the first place.”

  �
�How ever did you work that out?” Devon’s dry sarcasm prompted a small smile from me. I did so love his British humor.

  “We need to get going,” I said to Devon, getting up from the chair. If my time was limited, I wanted as much time with Devon as possible. “I want to shower, okay? And you need to take this poor man back.”

  “I can’t possibly take him back,” he replied. “He’s seen you. He’ll tell the authorities.”

  His matter-of-fact tone had me stopping in my tracks. I glanced at the doctor, then got close to Devon. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?” I asked in a low whisper.

  Devon just looked at me. “I won’t compromise your safety.”

  “No.” My voice was implacable. “Absolutely not,” I said. “He’s done nothing to deserve that.”

  There was a battle of wills between Devon and me as we stared each other down.

  “Do I get a say?” the doctor asked. “Because I’d really like not to die today.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Devon. “Well? If you hurt him . . .” I let the warning stand on its own.

  “Fine.” Devon’s capitulation was given with ill grace. “But then he’s coming with us.”

  “I’m what?”

  “He’s what?”

  The doctor’s and my questions overlapped each other.

  Devon turned away and casually began sorting through his bag, carefully setting another weapon and several magazines on the table. “I want to make sure you’re well, and he can help if you get sick again,” he said. He glanced at me. “I’m compromising. Thought you’d like that.”

  I was too dumbfounded to know how to respond, but what could I say? I didn’t want him to kill the doctor and if his answer was to take him with us and leave him in Key West when we left, I guessed that was the better alternative of the two.

  “Fine,” I said. “We’ll . . . compromise.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to go—” the doctor began. I shot him a look that clearly said Shut up now. He shut up.

  I figured the display of weapons was to intimidate the doctor, and it appeared to work. I saw his eyes taking in the ease with which Devon handled the small armory, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.