Tangle of Need (Psy-Changeling #11)(135)

The anchor’s gaze was strangely vacant when it met hers. “Okay.”

Shock, Adria realized. Unlike the two cold-eyed men who were examining the fallen Tk, and in contrast with Bjorn’s quietly mutinous independence, most anchors were coddled and protected, never came this close to harsh reality. “Aden,” she said, using the name she’d been given for the medic.

His head lifted and she realized how handsome he was—if you liked your men icy enough to give you hypothermia. “Yes?”

“I think you need to ensure your anchor isn’t…” about to crack. Biting off the words on the tip of her tongue, she just said, “Check her.”

Aden rose with an almost feline grace to circle the desk and crouch beside the anchor. Who froze, her eyes locked on his uniform, on the single star that decorated his left shoulder. “Arrow Squad. I thought you were just a story.”

Aden didn’t reply, checking the woman over with an efficiency that said he saw her only as a living, breathing machine. He didn’t speak, but Adria knew he and the other Arrow had to be communicating telepathically. Finally, he took out a pressure injector and punched the medicine into the anchor’s body by pressing it to her neck.

Sonja slumped.

Catching her, Aden laid her down on the carpet. “We can’t afford for her to destabilize the Net,” he said to Adria. “Her mind will continue to maintain things as they are while she sleeps. When she wakes, she’ll have the appropriate medical support.”

Adria didn’t like the fact he’d acted without asking the anchor’s permission, but then, she didn’t know if he’d telepathed to Sonja, and the PsyNet wasn’t her field of expertise. More important, Judd had said this man and his partner were to be trusted, and Adria had absolute faith in the lieutenant. “We’re charged with her safety,” she said in response, checking Sonja’s pulse herself to make sure she was okay. “I can’t release her to anyone other than you two.”

“Vasic will teleport her to a medical facility.” With that, he returned to his partner.

Pricking her ears as Riaz rubbed at his face a foot away from her, she tuned in to their low-voiced conversation.

“Yes,” Vasic said. “Confirmed.”

“You’re certain.”

“Yes.”

Realizing the two Arrows were either cognizant of the acute nature of changeling hearing, or so used to communicating telepathically that they weren’t going to let anything slip, she met Riaz’s gaze. He gave a small shrug, and she knew he’d been attempting to listen, too. Shifting closer, she said, “Let me check your eyes.” It was a ruse—she needed to touch him, settle nerves that had been shredded when he collapsed.

“Thanks for the rescue.” He sat patiently while she used the mini-torch in her pocket to determine that his pupils were reacting properly. “Good shot.”

Her wolf would’ve happily gutted the bastard who’d hurt him if Riaz hadn’t already taken care of that, but she said only, “You’re my partner. No thanks required.”

“The gunshots.” Eyes of palest brown scanning her body with protective intent. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think the shooter had ever targeted a changeling before—he was too slow.” Tucking the torch back into her pocket, she kept her face turned away from the carnage, but there was no way to avoid the fact that her clothing was splattered with flecks of things she didn’t want to think about. Her face, she’d wiped on the clean T-shirt she wore under her sweatshirt, but she desperately wanted a shower, the scent of death clogging her nostrils. “Here.”

Ripping off a clean part of her T-shirt, she wiped off the blood that had hit the side of Riaz’s face, his clothing relatively unscathed because of the angle of the shot.

His hand touched her hip, startling her enough that she froze. Holding her gaze, he stroked gently. Not a sexual caress, she realized, simply comfort from one changeling to another, one wolf to another. Swallowing the lump of emotion in her throat, she threw the torn fabric into a small metal trash can probably meant for office detritus, and lowered her voice to a sub-vocal level. “Not here, not yet.” She couldn’t afford to break down, to crawl into his arms and give in to her own rippling shock.

Cutting the contact, he nodded, and they both pushed up to their feet. Riaz was a fraction unsteady, but it only lasted a couple of seconds. In front of them, the two Psy males got up from their crouching position beside the body, the quiet one walking across to the desk to pick up Sonja and teleport out. His speed was stunning to witness, especially when he teleported back less than ten seconds later.

“The Tk wasn’t working alone,” she said to them both. “His partner shot at the house, then at me when I realized it had to be a distraction and headed inside.” Bypassing the front door, she’d smashed her way through a lower-floor window. “I’m pretty sure he was standing in the shadow of the stand of eucalyptus trees out front.”

“One minute.” Vasic left for the corridor and—Adria guessed—the window from which he could see the trees. He returned not long afterward, holding several blackened pieces of grass. “Yes, he was there. As was what appears to be a jet-powered motorcycle. The scorch marks on the grass make it clear he left in a rush.”

Knowing there was nothing they could do to help track the shooter if he’d departed on the high-speed vehicle, Adria nonetheless made a note to see if she could pick up a scent by the trees. It might come in useful later, if they had to identify a suspect. Beside her, Riaz said, “I’ll talk to DarkRiver, see if the shooter blew past one of their security patrols. Long shot, but worth a try.”