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“This was not supposed to be a kidnap operation.”

“Too fucking late. Now knock her out, would ya?” Rhage grunted again and switched his grip, his hand leaving her mouth to catch one of her flailing arms.

Her voice came through loud and clear. “So help me, God, I’m going to—”

Phury took her chin in his hand and forced her head up. “Relax,” he said softly. “Just ease up.”

He locked his stare on hers and began to will her into calmness…will her into calmness…will her into—

“Fuck you!” she spat. “I’m not letting you kill my patient!”

Okay, this wasn’t working. Behind those rimless glasses and dark green eyes, she had a formidable mind, so with a curse he brought out the big guns, mentally shutting her down completely. She sagged like a mop.

Removing her glasses, he folded them up and put them in the breast pocket of his coat. “Let’s bust out of here before she comes around again.”

Rhage flipped the woman over, draping her like a shawl off his heavy shoulder. “Get her bag from the room.”

Phury ducked in, picked up a leather tote and the folder marked with the name KLOSNICK, then beat feet from the room. When he came back into the hall, Butch was having a run-in with a nurse who’d come out of a patient room.

“What are you doing!” the woman said.

Phury got on her like a tent, jumping in front of her, staring her into a stupor, planting the urgent need in her frontal lobe to get to a staff meeting. By the time he caught up with the evac again, the woman in Rhage’s arms was already throwing off the mind control, shaking her head back and forth as it bobbed to the beat of Hollywood’s get-up-’n-go.

As they came up to the stairwell’s fire door, Phury barked, “Hold up, Rhage.”

The brother stopped on a dime and Phury clamped his hand on the side of the woman’s neck, putting her out cold with a pressure lock.

“She’s gone. S’all good.”

They hit the back stairs and hauled ass. Vishous’s rasping breath was testimony to how much the express-train action was killing him, but he was hard-core as always, hanging in, in spite of the fact that he’d turned the color of pea soup.

Each time they came to a landing, Phury pulled a little scramble with a security camera, running an electrical surge through the things so they blinked out. His big hope was that they’d make it to the Escalade without tangling with a bunch of security guards. Humans were never targets for the Brotherhood. That being said, if there was a risk of the vampire race being exposed, there was nothing that wouldn’t be done. And as hypnotizing large groups of agitated and aggressive humans had a low success rate, that left fighting. And death for them.

Some eight flights down the stairwell bottomed out, and Butch stopped in front of a metal door. Sweat poured down his face and he was weaving, but his eyes were soldier-strong: He was going to get his buddy out, and nothing was going to stand in his way, even his own physical weakness.

“I’ll do the door,” Phury said, jumping to the head of the pack. After taking care of the alarm, he held the slab of steel open for the others. On the far side, a maze of utility halls branched out.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Where the hell are we?”

“Basement.” The cop marched ahead. “Know it well. Morgue’s on this level. Spent a lot of time here in my old job.”

Some hundred yards farther, Butch hooked them up with a shallow corridor that was more a shaft full of HVAC piping than any kind of hallway.

And then there it was: salvation in the form of an emergency access door.

“Escalade’s out here,” the cop said to V. “Sitting pretty.”

“Thank…God.” V’s lips pressed flat again, like he was trying not to throw up.

Phury did another jump ahead, then cursed. This alarm setup was different from the others, operating on a more complex circuitry. Which he should have expected. Exterior doors were frequently wired more heavily than interior ones. Trouble was, his little mental tricks weren’t going to work here, and it wasn’t like he could call a time-out to disarm the thing. V was looking