Sneak Attack (Tapped Out 2)

“She was at the bar, hanging around. Waiting for Mia, probably. She confronted her in the alley.”

“And you know for sure it was Olivia. No doubt.”

“It was her, goddammit.”

“It wasn’t her. You don’t know her like I do.” He turned away from me to kneel over Olivia’s head, his hand gentle as he stroked her hair.

“You damn idiot, she used you. Just like everyone else does. She wanted to get closer to Mia, and she probably cozied up to you to do it—”

His hand stilled. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, like everyone else does?” he asked, so softly that I barely heard him.

I swore under his breath. Jesus, I didn’t want to be fighting with him. He was hurting, and it wasn’t his fault, but dammit, I needed someone to blame for what Mia had faced. Was still facing.

Mia. Shit.

I jumped to my feet and stepped over Olivia’s head, intended to run up the stairs and see if it looped back around to the original tunnel. I wasn’t going to waste any more time on a touchy-feely conversation with Slater until I knew if my girl was okay.

She had to be. Winning was in her blood.

Slater grabbed my arm and spun me back, ne

arly knocking me off the bottom stair. “I asked you a question. Who’s always using me?”

“Abby.” The name popped out before I thought better of it. Referencing the situation with Slater’s brother’s girl was a low blow, one he didn’t deserve. It was a flippant response, as so much else had been with me lately. I’d been operating on adrenaline and nerve and bone-deep fear for so fucking long that I didn’t have a filter anymore. And I couldn’t see past my overriding need to make sure Mia was okay.

“Abby,” he repeated, turning away. “Yeah. Someone else who used me.” He dropped to Olivia’s side and caressed her bloody cheek with careful fingers. His voice sounded distant, hollow. “Don’t think she’s the only one.”

“I don’t have time for this. We’ll talk later.”

“Don’t bother.” He didn’t look up, just kept soothing Olivia. “We’re done here.”

I stared at him for a moment longer, torn between staying with him while he waited for the ambulance—for his sake, not Olivia’s—and going to check on Mia. But the thought of the ambulance pushed me up the stairs. Ambulances often meant cops, and cops usually meant bad news when it came to illegal fighting.

I had to get Mia out of there. Home safe, where she belonged.

I ascended the stairs three at a time, realizing when I reached the top of the stairs that I was in a whole other building, just as Gio had warned me. Another old warehouse apparently. I headed to the closest exit, hoping like hell I’d find it unlocked. Strobing red and blue lights cut through the window across the dusty floor, illuminating my way.

The ambulance was here already. That was fast. I had to hustle Mia out of there in a hurry.

I shoved open the door and ran outside, crossing the parking lot. People were streaming out the building like rats scampering back into their hidey holes, but that was usual after a match. As soon as the victor was declared, the crowds got lost. No one wanted to get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time if there was a bust. Cops usually had better things to do than to shake down underground fighting rings, but—

“Fox!” Carly’s frightened shout stopped me dead halfway to the ambulance. I’d intended to tell the EMTs where to find Slater and Olivia, even lead them there if necessary. After I’d made sure Mia was okay.

Then I saw the drape of the dark braid on the stretcher being carted out of the building, and everything inside me shut down. Every vital process screeched to a halt. Breathing first. Vision next, until it narrowed to a pinprick hole that only contained the stretcher and the white, white sheets. My heart last, stopping so swiftly that I would’ve lost my footing if Carly hadn’t been at my side.

“What happened?” My mouth was operating independently of my brain, because that part of me had ceased functioning too.

“She’s hurt, she’s hurt.”

I couldn’t make sense of what I was hearing.

The gears started turning again, slowly, painfully.

Hurt. Alive then. Not dead.

Not dead.

“How bad?” I managed.