Page 43 of Act of Command

“Less talk, more walk?” she questioned.

He offered a warm smile and she realized that even without eyebrows, he was handsome. He reminded her of a warrior from a movie she’d watched about an evil mummy coming back from the dead.

She paused. “He said they gave him something that was slowing his healing.”

“Dammit. She’s right. Their newest sedative has a mix of several drugs in it. A side effect to some can be decreased healing. Others it increases the ability.” Ezra took her hand in his. “We need to move now.”

“Caesar isn’t coming, is he?” Deep down she knew something bad had happened to him. She couldn’t help but mourn him.

“No. He’s not.”

“Brad?”

Ezra pulled her along, forcing her to move. “I let him out of his cell. And I tasked him with protecting someone. I don’t know if they made it out. I can only hope they did.”

He was hiding something, she was sure of it, but Corbin needed medical attention so she didn’t push. Within minutes they were free from the building and moving in the direction of a set of SUVs. Ezra held Mae’s hand out to Malik. “Get her to safety. I’ll come after I search for signs of Brad and, well, yes, Brad.”

Malik didn’t give Mae a choice. He lifted her and loaded her into the backseat of one of the SUVs. He tossed a set of keys at Ezra. “Here. Take the other. Meet us back at headquarters. We’re driving straight through.”

Ezra stopped. “I have a safe house near here.”

Malik gazed uncomfortably in at her and then went to shut the door to speak more with Ezra. Mae put her foot out, blocking the door. She leaned. “He doesn’t want me to hear what bad shape Corbin is in. He thinks we need to go straight to where Corbin can get more medical attention. I’ll do it. I’ll go wherever is best for Corbin. You’ll find Brad. Right?”

Ezra nodded, something off in his eyes. “I will. Be well, Mae.”

Boomer took the driver’s seat and Striker loaded Corbin into the back of the SUV and made a move to climb into the area next to him. The spot was hardly adequate for Corbin’s mass, let alone Striker’s too. Mae yanked on her dress, moved some, and flipped the release to lay her portion of the second row bench down, allowing Striker to lie Corbin out more. Mae climbed over Corbin, careful not to touch him. She motioned to the other seat. “Take it.”

Striker moved around the vehicle and took the seat she left for him. Malik sat in the passenger seat. He looked to Striker. “How is he?”

“Brit has lost a lot of blood and I do nae know how close to his heart he was hit. I couldnae count all the shots. They’re too many and there is too much blood.”

Mae ripped at the bottom of her dress and used pieces of it to press to Corbin’s bloodiest spots. She didn’t cry at first as they drove. Each time they hit a bump, Corbin hissed in his sleep, and before long she found herself humming lightly next to him, trying to stop his bleeding, her heart breaking for him. He’d finally come into her life and the idea of him being ripped away was so cruel she couldn’t think more on it.

Instead, she hummed, thinking relaxing thoughts. Trying to will peace, love and healing energy over him, despite having no real clue how to do such a thing or even if it could be done. Finally, he stopped responding to each bump of the SUV and slept soundly.

Her attention went to the other men in the SUV. Malik was asleep and Striker was doing something to him with a permanent marker while Boomer drove. Striker’s gaze moved to her.

“Och, lass, keep singin’. He’s sleepin’ right through me giving him new eyebrows.” Striker’s tongue darted out as he concentrated on his task. Boomer hit a pot hole and the pen jerked hard in Striker’s hand. He pursed his lips. “That one will be his evil villain brow.”

Mae giggled and realized she’d found very little funny since she’d been taken. Laughter was a welcome relief. She took Corbin’s hand in hers and held it to her chest, wanting desperately for him to heal like he had in the lab. Deep down she knew his injuries were far worse than before.

Chapter Eighteen

Corbin came awake, and for a moment feared he was in the lab at the holding facility once more. It took him a minute to realize he was at PSI in one of their medical rooms. It helped that James was there, holding a chart and wearing a white lab coat.

“Mae?” Corbin asked, sitting up rapidly on the bed. Faster than he should have. The room spun and he grabbed a side rail to steady himself. An IV ran from his arm to a bag of fluid and a quick glance down showed he was wearing a pair of scrub bottoms. Nothing else. “Where is Mae? Is she okay?”

James eyed him. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“Is my mate okay?” he pressed. He wasn’t in the mood for games. When James crossed his arms over his chest and lifted a brow, Corbin knew the man wasn’t giving up any information until he got the answers he sought. With a sigh, Corbin responded. “There was gunfire and they hit the chemicals in the lab. Smoke filled the room. It hurt to breathe. I was worried for Mae. I wanted to get to her.” He thought harder on it all. About how he’d put her in a cell to try to keep her safe but how the men had shot at it until the glass gave way.

And he remembered Mae’s limp body.

He trembled as he lifted his head, his eyes searching his longtime friend’s face for any sign of hope that Mae was alive. James touched the foot of the bed and set the chart down. “She’s fine, Corbin. Not a scratch on her.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Where is she?”

“You claimed her,” said James matter-of-factly.

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