Prisoner (Criminals & Captives #1)(61)

The operation is over. And with it, their incentive for keeping me alive.

“When will he wake up?”

“Not for a while, hopefully,” Nate says. “We want him to sleep.”

Relief is short-lived. I have to save myself. Desperate plans run through my mind. Like taking somebody hostage with a scalpel.

I sneak a peek at the watch Nate put on a nearby stool, and see that it’s three in the morning.

“Come on.” Nate has me help him with a final suture. Stone, who has been keeping watch from a nearby chair, stands by the table. Calder comes to join them. Nate is explaining next steps. They need to get him resting. Keep him on his back. Check his temperature at intervals.

They don’t notice when I back away. I turn and run for it, making for the stairs. Footsteps behind me. Huge hands grab me.

“Oh no you don’t.” Stone.

An arm comes around my neck, choking me, pulling me back around.

Nate walks up. “Lay the f*ck off,” he says, peeling off bloody latex gloves. “I may still need her. He’s not out of the woods.”

“Stupid to keep her around,” Stone growls. “She’s seen us.”

“My priority is Grayson lasting the night,” Nate says. “I need her around if I need to go back in.”

The arm loosens and lets me go. I wobble for a second before I can stand. I can’t read Nate or even catch his gaze—I don’t know if he doesn’t want me killed, or if it really is just all about Grayson. Either way, I’ll take it.

The three of them slide Grayson onto some sort of wheeled table and bring him down a hallway and into a room that’s lit only by the moon coming in the high windows. One of the guys pulls down a thick blind, totally covering the window, and Calder switches on a lamp. It’s an old hotel room, by the looks of it, with a little bed and a desk. A small pile of books sits on the floor next to the bed. The sweet computer setup is a total anomaly. I’ve never seen anything like this place.

For these guys, it’s clearly home.

They ease Grayson onto the bed.

From the outside, the window coverings block out the light completely. You would never guess somebody lives here from the way it looks outside, the way it looked when I arrived. Stone, Calder, Nate, and a few other guys go in and out. There seem to be seven of them, all heavily armed, all with that same feral vibe, like a lost tribe. They all have that white scar tattoo and no regular tattoos, except for one guy, who is covered in them.

Now that Nate’s gone out of healing mode, it’s pretty clear he’s one of them. They seem so connected, and for the first time I wonder if every single one of these guys go back to that basement. The moment I think it, I know it’s true, deep in my gut. They’re not like other men. This is a different breed of guy, raised in a different way. A horrifying way.

Then I’m alone with Grayson, no guys with guns wandering in and out. I take his hand, willing him to wake up, but he looks so weak, lying there like a wounded animal, sheets wrapped around his legs and hips, muscular chest half rough skin and half bright white and red with bandages, short dark hair pasted to his skull with sweat.

“Baby,” I whisper, squeezing his hand. “I need you to wake up. I need you to help me.” My voice cracks on the last word.

His lips move. I can’t tell if he’s trying to say something. His lips form the words Ms. Winslow, but it could be my imagination. Wishful thinking.

Nate comes up next to me. “Let him sleep.”

“His color’s better,” I say hopefully. “And his breathing…”

“He’ll be back to his surly self in no time,” Nate says, laying two fingers to the side of Grayson’s throat. “He’ll have a little trouble with his shoulder for a while, but he’ll live.”

Which means they won’t need me anymore. My gaze slides to the door. Is Stone on the other side, just waiting for me to run? Nate protected me against Stone, but I don’t know how far that protection will extend. Would he call them if I ran? Or would he chase me down himself?

He slides his brown eyes to meet my gaze, and I get the sense that he knows what I’m thinking. “You stay,” he says simply. I don’t know if it’s a threat or a promise.

These guys can’t stay awake forever. I still have money from the robbery. I can get away. I’ve survived too much already; I can survive this too.

But God, I’m so tired. I curl up next to Grayson and start to drift off. I feel a light blanket over me before I fall asleep.





Chapter Thirty




Grayson


I wake up with a head full of putty. I can barely move. It’s like a train ran over me and left part of a wheel sticking into my shoulder, which is heavily bandaged; even my left arm is immobilized in some sort of sling. But worse, I had this nightmare about the crew killing Abby, and I couldn’t get to her. I told Calder I’d kill them if they touched her, but I wasn’t sure if he heard me. Wasn’t sure if that was just a dream too.

Stone is in the chair next to me, sleeping. Nobody else is around, and I panic, wondering where Abby is, but then I spot her, curled up in the corner where somebody chained her to the radiator. She’s sleeping, but she looks uncomfortable. Heat rises to my face, and I suddenly want to f*cking kill somebody.

Nobody touches Abby except me. Nobody else knows how to keep her from being scared, or what she likes, what she needs. I’m the one who was supposed to keep her safe, and one of these guys locked her up? She should have a mattress. Is she hungry? Thirsty?