Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(95)

If the brakes had been powered by cursing, the cab would have frozen in space. As it was, they squealed loudly, and the car skidded to one side. I grabbed PC as the momentum threw us forward. My forehead bounced off the seat in front of me and the seat belt cut tight, bruising my hips and chest. But the cab stopped.

What the hell? I jerked my head up, squinting into the headlights that stil washed us in a blinding glare. “Bel ?” I asked, twisting to look at Roy.

He nodded as two more cars jetted to a stop behind the cab.

Crap. I had to get out of here. The warehouse district wasn’t big on traffic at one in the morning, so no chance the cars belonged to tourists.

“When I said warn me, I meant before they were to the point of setting up roadblocks,” I hissed, struggling with the point of setting up roadblocks,” I hissed, struggling with the seat belt. The cabbie must have stil had his foot on the brake, because the belt was locked around me with not an inch of give.

“Bel ’s been in hiding. I didn’t know until his men emerged,” Roy said, his gaze riveted on the back window.

The light fil ing the cab dimmed for a moment, as if something—or someone—had passed in front of the headlights. “Alex, you need to get out of here.”

No shit. The seat belt final y gave way and I tugged the strap of my purse over my shoulder as I slid across the seat.

“Your company has my card information,” I yel ed to the cabdriver, who’d thrown the cab into park and was climbing out of the driver’s seat. I didn’t try to stop him but wrenched my own door open.

Too late. Skimmers were already descending on the cab.

Now what?

“Find Falin,” I whispered to Roy as I jumped out.

“But he can’t—” the ghost began.

Yeah, Falin couldn’t see Roy. I knew that. Stil , someone had to know the skimmers had come for me, and my phone was in my purse, under the dog, so I didn’t exactly have time to cal 911.

“Just find him. Tel him what happened.” Somehow.

I hit the pavement running and darted around the closest skimmer. I dashed for the sprawling warehouse across the street—not that I had a plan for once I reached it. The purse in my arms shook as PC trembled, but I didn’t have time to comfort him.

Behind me, the cabbie cursed, yel ing at the car blocking the road. I didn’t see the spel that sent him to the pavement, but I sensed it: a medicinal-grade sleeping charm. I also sensed a couple of tracking charms—

probably the best that money could buy. No wonder they found me so fast.

I had one foot of the sidewalk when a guy who spent way I had one foot of the sidewalk when a guy who spent way too much time in the gym grabbed my arm. He jerked me back, shoving me toward the rear bumper of the cab.

“Hey!”

“Boss wants to see you,” he said. Then he pushed my pelvis against the side panel of the cab and wrenched my arm behind my back. No sleep charm for me. He snapped a handcuff around my wrist, locking it tight with a click. The cold metal instantly heated against my skin and began to itch and a wave of nausea rol ed through me. Crap. High iron content. Asshole.

“I think there’s been some mistake,” I said, struggling in his grasp as I tried to twist free. My efforts might as wel have been those of a child. Without missing a beat, he grabbed my other arm and jerked it behind me.

“Watch the dog!”

His hands actual y hesitated, and I think he realized for the first time that PC was there. The dog’s presence seemed to stump him. What, he’s never seen a dog in a purse before? That or he thought PC was some sort of hairless rat—that happened. Either way, I used his distraction to my advantage and slammed the heel of my boot into his foot.

“Bitch.” He grabbed my hair and shoved my face against the car. Pain exploded across my cheek, my vision blaring red for a moment. By the time I could feel anything other than the sting, my hands were both cuffed. The goon hauled me back, dragging me away from the taxi.

Goon Two—I’d wondered where he was—opened the door to an ancient square monstrosity of a car as I was shoved toward it. The other skimmers just stood and watched, or ran to their own cars as I was forcibly abducted. PC ducked low in my purse.

I was a foot from the car when the raver chick popped into the space in front of me, blocking the door.

“Okay, we’ve reached a consensus,” she said, hands on her hips and nails boring into the plastic of her pants.

her hips and nails boring into the plastic of her pants.

“But for the record, I’m stil opposed.” The gray man popped into the space beside me.

I looked from one col ector to the other, and the goon gave me a shove. “I said to get in the car.”

Okay, so he might not have been able to see the col ectors, but they were very real, and very physical, to me, and right now the raver was blocking my path. As if she’d just realized that, the col ector glanced back at my abductor and then ducked into the car. I fol owed because the goon gave me no choice. I expected the gray man to fol ow, but the body that slid across the seat after me was much more familiar.

Death.

“What’s going on?” I whispered as I scooted over to give him and the gray man more room.

Death didn’t answer, but reached out and touched the cheek the goon had slammed into the taxi. Muscles clenched along his jaw as he gritted his teeth. His gaze went dark and shot to where the two goons were climbing into the front seats. The gray man pressed the length of his cane against Death’s chest, not holding him back exactly, but more like giving him a reminder.