Page 78 of Lesson In Forgiveness

Not to mention reconsidering her choices.

Still, there was no going back now. Ignoring the various aches and throbbing pains in her hip, cheek, and… hell, everywhere, she peeked around the edge of the doorway, scoping out the hall.

Quiet, unoccupied. Under the guise of making small talk, she’d already ascertained that she was the only current resident in the medical sector, and that her care was solely in Jasper and Grit’s hands.

No nurses, no doctors.

This area was vacant for the next little while, so she needed to gather her motivation and run. Stepping onto cool tiles with bare feet, she walked as quickly as she dared past open cubicles full of medical equipment. She knew the basic layout of the facility, despite the alterations and expansions Atticus kept making to the business.

Now she was out in the open, the biggest threat to her plan was the security cameras. Trying to appear nonchalant, as though she was just doing some physical therapy, she turned right toward the elevators, then turned around and hobbled toward the stairs.

Each step down jolted her goddamn hip. Twice, her knees buckled and almost sent her tumbling to the bottom of the stairwell. She came close to throwing up her stomach lining by the time she reached the last stair, the exertion too much for her body.

If her calculations were correct, she should be somewhere on the ground floor. She could either head for the main entrance or go down another level and sneak out of the garage.

“Perhaps this was a slight miscalculation,” she mumbled to herself as she staggered along the corridor. She really wasn’t feeling her best right now; the sweat running down her back wasn’t from anything but physical distress.

Logic suggested it would be wise to sit down; her sheer stubbornness dictated she keep going. After all, she’d gotten this far, and if she was recaptured now, her brother was going to stick those padded cuffs back on her wrists, making a second attempt to leave much harder.

The subtle crackle of a radio and the almost military march of boots heading in her direction kicked her fighting instincts to the fore, where they hovered for several long seconds, fizzling weakly like cheap fireworks.

The men who approached her were tall, bullishly built, and armed. The younger one—brown hair, brown eyes—plucked the radio off his belt as the other—gray hair, blue eyes—tilted his head and studied her.

“Control, this is Scout One. Subject located in the east corridor, ground level.”

Calling in reinforcements, she assumed. Good choice on a normal day, but today she was anything but on top form. Still, she had a reputation to maintain, so she squared up to the older merc as though she wasn’t dying inside.

Raising her arms, hands fisted, she exhaled slowly. “I’m leaving. Move.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss Fairfax.” When she took a threatening step toward him, the guy didn’t retreat, but just held his hands out to the side. “Take a swing if you want, but you’re not permitted to leave the building.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder, hemming her in. The younger one kept his hand hovering over his weapon—not the handgun, but the nasty little Taser that would knock her on her ass before she could break his fingers.

She was many things, but immune to fifty-thousand volts wasn’t one of them.

A wave of fatigue swamped her, making her sway. To cover up the weakness, Tabitha used the motion to smack her palms against the older man’s black uniform shirt and shove him back.

The name badge stitched over his left pectoral muscle blurred in and out of focus, but she took a guess from the letters she saw clearly. “Listen, Buckle, I’m busy and have things to do. Get out of my way.”

“Uh, that’s Huckle, ma’am. No offense, but you’re in no fit state to do anything but go back to bed. Doyle and I are happy to escort you to your room.”

She huffed. Her room was a fucking prison cell and they all knew it. Suspicion snaked through her as she gave him another weak push. His reaction confirmed her hunch—he refused to lay a hand on her, even though she was violating his personal space.

Normally, an aggressive move like a shove would’ve resulted in an all-out hand to hand battle. A move like that from her should’ve brought hell raining down in an effort to contain her and return her to that godforsaken room.

Fuck, was she really so unthreatening?

“Ma’am, we have strict orders not to touch you under any circumstances,” the other mercenary informed her as he drew the Taser. “However, that doesn’t mean I won’t stun you if you pose a threat to me or my partner.”

Oh good, not quite as unthreatening as she believed. That was something; her reputation preceded her after all. Lip curling, she switched her attention to him, forcing a malicious smile. “Oh please, don’t hesitate. I kinda like an extra kick in the morning with my coffee.”

“Don’t rise to the bait,” Huckle warned him. “Look at her, Doyle. She’s barely got the energy to stand. She can’t kick our asses even if she wants to.”

Bristling at the insult, Tabitha sneered at him. Sometimes kicking ass wasn’t all about fists, feet, and teeth. Proving to be mentally superior—all right, so that wasn’t something she often claimed what with her defects—could be more demoralizing to the enemy than a stone cold KO.

With the military types, disarming them worked just as well.

Especially when they were arrogant.

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