Sloane’s heart swelled in his chest. How had he wound up with such an amazing guy? Dex rolled off him, and Sloane followed. “Okay.” He reached behind him, took Dex’s arm, and pulled him close. He laced their fingers together and kissed Dex’s hand, smiling when Dex snuggled up close. As he closed his eyes and drifted off with Dex pressed up against his back and his arms around Sloane, he was reminded that not only did he trust Dex, but he was also coming to learn he could trust Dex to catch him when he fell. The thought wasn’t frightening at all. It was comforting. It was time he learned how to do the same for Dex.
A sharp buzzing woke Sloane up in the middle of the night, and he reluctantly moved away from Dex to answer his phone. If it hadn’t been his work ringtone, he would have been tempted to ignore it.
“Hello?”
There was a groan, sharp intake of breath, followed by a low plea. “Sloane….”
Sloane sat up, his pulse skyrocketing and his eyesight sharpening. “Austen? What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I got too close. Can you… I think I might need some help. Lots of blood.”
“Fuck. Okay. Where are you?” Sloane threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. He ran to the other side of the room to grab his clothes off the floor. “I’ll be there fast as I can. Why haven’t you called an ambulance?”
“No. No hospitals.”
“Austen—”
“No hospitals. Bring one of your sexy medics.”
Sloane couldn’t help his smile. “You got it. Hang in there.” The moment he hung up with Austen he called Rosa. She answered with a groggy “¿qué pasó?” but was instantly awake the moment Sloane relayed the information and Austen’s location. Sloane finished zipping up his jeans just when Dex sat up with a fierce yawn.
“What’s going on?”
“I have to go. Austen’s hurt. I think those Coalition assholes got their hands on him.”
“Shit.” Dex shot out of bed and started getting dressed. “I’m coming with you.”
It took a moment for Sloane to snap himself out of his flabbergasted state.
He’d never seen Dex move so quickly after waking up, especially before he’d had coffee. Dex got dressed and cast him a shrewd smile.
“What? Adrenaline kicks caffeine in the ass.”
They rushed out of the house and took Sloane’s car, making it from Dex’s house to the Brooklyn address Austen had relayed over the phone in less than twenty minutes. Sloane parked on Sullivan Street outside a rundown house with boarded-up windows. Rusted burglar bars secured the basement and first-floor windows, and the door looked solid. But the lock was a piece of shit, and all it took was a good kick. The door slammed open, and they quickly closed it behind them before taking the stairs two at a time to the second floor. There were several doors. Dex grabbed Sloane’s arm and whispered hoarsely. “There.”
Sloane removed his Glock from his holster and signaled for Dex to get behind him. Dex nodded, drawing his own backup weapon, and the two of them slowly approached the only door with a glowing light coming from underneath it. As they got closer, Sloane could see the door was slightly ajar. He was about to reach for it when he heard Austen groan.
“Place is clear, Sloane.”
Regardless, they walked in with caution. It wasn’t that he couldn’t trust Austen, but he sure as hell didn’t trust the Coalition, and there was no telling what they’d do or if Austen was operating under duress. Once inside the apartment, Dex and Sloane split up. Sloane swiftly checked the tiny box of an apartment when he heard Dex call out.
“Over here! I found Austen.”
Sloane followed Dex’s voice to what he assumed was supposed to be a living room. It was the only room in the place that wasn’t filthy. The floor had been swept, and there was a clean mattress in one corner, a crate with a battery-powered utility lamp, some books, a duffel bag, a backpack, a large cooler doubling as a table, and propped up against the far wall was Austen. He held a hand to his shoulder, blood soaking into his T-shirt underneath.
“Austen? Shit.” Sloane hurried over to the cheetah Therian and knelt down beside him. He carefully lifted Austen’s hand to assess the damage. “Take it easy.” There were three fresh slashes on Austen’s shoulder. A felid had taken a swipe at him and caught him. “It’s not bad, but you’ll need stitches.” He returned Austen’s hand back to his shoulder and pressed down. Austen sucked in a sharp breath. “Hold on. Help’s on its way.
“I’m okay. Someone tried to give me some stripes. Don’t they know cheetahs don’t look good in stripes?” He looked down at his bloodied hand. “Coalition piece of shit. Cougar asshole came out of nowhere.”
“So it was them?”
“Someone snitched on me. A snitch snitched on the snitch,” Austen said with a laugh then groaned.
“You’ll be okay,” Sloane promised him. The cuts were deep enough for stitches but not enough for Austen to bleed out.
Austen nodded, his expression turning somber. “The last two random acts of violence weren’t so random.”
“What have you learned?”