Whispers in the Dark - Maya Banks [111]
SHEA came to awareness but was careful not to convey that she’d regained consciousness. She was no longer in a helicopter. She knew that much at least. Nor was she moving. She was lying on a couch. A couch? As tempted as she was to open her eyes, she forced herself to have discipline and carefully determine what she could without any noticeable change in her breathing.
It was silent. She strained to listen for any sign that she wasn’t alone. But all she heard was the light hum of a central air-conditioning system.
She allowed one slit in her left eye, and when she didn’t immediately see anyone else in the room, she opened both eyes and quickly examined her surroundings.
Seeing no one, she shot to her feet and then nearly went down and face-planted on the floor. Holy hell, but whatever they’d given her must work for elephants too. She sank back onto the edge of the couch and shook her head, trying to clear the muzziness that surrounded her like fog.
There were two ways out of the room. A door and a large window. She had no idea where the door led, but she was going to check out the window first. It was already dark, which meant she’d been out for hours.
Shea, goddamn it. Where are you? Talk to me. Just talk to me. Let me know you’re okay. Let me know where to find you. We’re coming for you, baby.
She dropped to her knees, holding her head in agony. Each word sent splinters into her brain until she moaned and closed her eyes. She rocked back and forth, so shaken and in so much pain that her stomach was a tight ball of nausea.
Nathan.
As soon as she tried to reach out to him, pain speared through her skull and down her spine. Overwhelmed, she leaned forward and vomited. It took her several long moments to regain her composure and for her to stop the violent heaving of her stomach.
A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she reacted on instinct. She turned and lashed out, first with her hand, landing the heel of her palm on the bridge of her captor’s nose. She was on her feet in an instant and followed up with a vicious kick to his balls.
He doubled over with a grunt and she nailed him with a right hook to the jaw. Not leaving anything to chance, she snapped her foot into the side of his head and sent him reeling to the floor.
The dull gleam of a pistol secured in his shoulder harness sent her scrambling to yank it free. First she hit him on the back of the head with the butt and then she quickly frisked him for extra clips.
She felt like doing a double fist pump when she found not only two extra clips, but a smaller Sig Sauer secured to an ankle holster. She pocketed it and the knife from his pocket and then ran for the door.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. Maybe some underground compound. A top-secret government facility in some cave. Or maybe even a basement in some underground Washington D.C. test facility. Whatever she’d been expecting, this wasn’t it.
She was in a freaking house. A normal-looking house that from all appearances someone lived in. Damn it. She hadn’t thought to frisk the dude for keys to a vehicle. They had to have gotten her here someway.
She crouched down in the hallway when she heard voices in the next room. The stock of the pistol was slick in her hand and her pulse raced. She didn’t want to have to kill anyone. She wasn’t saying she wouldn’t do it. But it didn’t mean she was ready to start pumping people full of lead.
On the other hand, these assholes had scared her to death, they’d drugged her and they’d jumped off a cliff into a helicopter. And whatever they’d given her had affected her ability to use her telepathy.
Yeah, she was just pissed off enough to shoot and get the hell out of this place. Wherever this place was.
She ducked into one of the other rooms, realizing it was a guest bedroom. For God’s sake. Were they in suburbia? This was getting more bizarre by the moment.