He didn’t make a sound, but his breathing quickened after she eased the glass out. She covered the wound, the only one deep enough to still be bleeding, with a pad of gauze and taped it on. Suppressing the urge to trace his skin again, she efficiently cleaned the already healing cuts on the rest of his back with disinfectant. “There. I don’t think I missed any.”
Mick twitched his shoulders and turned toward her. “I’ll do. The last one will heal up on my next shift.” He started to lift a hand, then stopped and shoved it in his pocket. “You okay?”
She felt an odd flutter in her belly and had to work at keeping her voice steady. “I don’t know. But thank you for protecting me.”
He didn’t say it. Why would he? But she could hear the echo of his words from earlier. I protect what’s mine. What did it take to get added to that list, she wondered.
Unable to hold his gaze or think about what it meant, Sophie stepped back and dropped her eyes to the phone he’d set aside on the dresser. She needed some space. As she stared at the phone, the face lit and the tones of American Woman rang out. She pounced on it, noting the Private Number listing on the caller ID before she pressed Answer.
“I expected you sooner, Sophie.” The voice was mechanical, distorted, but it was hearing her name that chilled Sophie to the bone.
“Who is this?” she demanded.
“For the purposes of this discussion, I’m your employer. I have something you want, and if you do exactly as you’re told, I’ll consider giving her back in one piece.”
Rage and terror ripped through her, competing waves of emotion that rocked her to the core. She gripped the phone, shoving back the tide, grabbing for the mask of professionalism.
“How do I know you’ve really got her? I want proof of life.”
There was a thump and a crash, like a chair being kicked over, then a low moan.
“Sophie . . . ”
Liza. Sophie’s heart thudded hard. When she heard the kidnapper come back on the line she snarled, “You leave her alone you son of a bitch.”
He laughed, and she felt her temper spike. As the wind began gusting through the broken windows, Mick put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed. The gale died down enough that she could hear again.
“Temper temper, Sophie. That will never do.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to bring me the Devil’s Eye.”
For a moment, she was too stunned to speak. “You want what?”
“The Devil’s Eye, fool girl. Bring it to me or your sister dies.” The whip of annoyance crackled through the distorter. “You have six hours. I’ll be in touch with the delivery location.”
The sudden silence was swallowed by a clap of thunder. Sophie jolted, then realized Mick was still rubbing her shoulder, soothing.
“Liza’s as good as dead.”
“The hell she is,” Mick snarled. The hand on her shoulder shook her once, hard, breaking through some of the haze. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if the Council doesn’t negotiate for hostages—”
“It’s not that. I can’t do what he wants, Mick. I can’t.” Her voice broke along with something deeper that might have been hope.
His face softened a bit. “What’s the Devil’s Eye, petite?”
Sophie shook her head. “That’s a stratosphere above your security clearance.”
He just looked at her with flashing yellow eyes.
“It’s bad,” she said, exasperated. “Big, shatter the world and start wars kind of bad. That’s why we hid it.”
“We?” he asked. “So you know where it is?”
Miserable, Sophie nodded.
“Then I’ll help you get it back.”