Page 10 of The Eagle and the Shrew

“He was some kind of geneticist. An expert in his field.”

Anson started coughing, and Nari sprang up, running to the kitchen to find the supply of bottled water. She returned to him with the bottle open, and he drank it like a parched man in the desert.

She waited for him to finish. When he didn’t pick up where he’d left off, she prompted, “I take it your sister had a rare genetic condition, if that’s why she ended up being treated by a geneticist?”

To her relief, Anson was still in a talkative mood.

“Yes. It occurs in some shrew shifter families. She needed a lot of tests and treatment. Dr. Grimm was on her team of medical staff that was supposed to be helping her.” Anson’s face scrunched up like he tasted something sour. “So, you can see why I don’t do hospitals.” He sat back on the couch, and his eyes drifted to the fireplace. He was clearly done sharing the interesting history of Dr. Grimm and Ariel.

“Not a hospital, then. How about FUCN’A? We could shift, and I could fly you there in no time. They have a whole medical wing and will make sure you get the best care possible.” She gently put a hand on his back, trying her best to reassure and comfort him. It didn’t seem to help. Anson looked as rigid as a board.

“So they can patch me up and then throw both of us in jail?”

She bit her lip. Guilt bubbled in her gut. She couldn’t let this charade continue any longer. She had to come clean. “I never walked out on FUC.” She hung her head. She couldn’t even look at him. Shame burned hot in her cheeks.

“What?”

“I’m still working with them. Me getting you away from FUC? It was an undercover operation that I proposed. I was hoping that if we were on the run together, you’d trust me more. Clearly, you weren’t going to open up to FUC, and they were about ready to give up trying to help you.” She picked at her cuticles, trying to get the courage to face him. It felt good to get it all out in the open, but she feared the fallout, feared what he’d think of her.

Why did his opinion of her matter so much? She couldn’t bear hurting him. Misleading him for this long ate away at her. Nari knew going undercover would be challenging, but she never considered she’d start developing some sort of feelings for Anson.

“Of course.” He stood, anger in his voice, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he hissed in pain. Even so, he remained standing. He looked at his hands for a moment, maybe collecting himself. Nari wasn’t sure. “So. The people chasing us, they really weren’t agents, were they?”

She shook her head, sending her dark hair fluttering about her shoulders. “No. They had to be from Grimm.”

He nodded slowly before putting a hand to his forehead. He winced, shutting his eyes. “Great, just great,” he croaked.

“Please, let me get you to a hospital.”

He put his hand out, palm up. “No. Look, maybe it’s for the best. We should go our separate ways. If Grimm has people following me, then I can reason with them. Get them to take me back to him so I can explain my side. It’s not like I’ve given anything up or helped FUC get any closer to him.”

He was right. He hadn’t been of any use to them. Not when it came down to catching Grimm, anyway. Even so, Nari absolutely hated the idea of him leaving—and not just because she was worried about his injuries or upset that he was willing to go back to his henchman life.

She didn’t want to admit it, but what she really took offense to was his willingness to abandon her.

She chose to ignore it. Chose to ignore his threat to leave altogether and, instead, focused on her first aid. She grabbed the soft plastic-wrapped gel pack, massaging it with her hands to break up whatever made the pack get cold. The chemicals inside activated, getting chilly immediately in her hands. She wrapped it in a thin towel and passed it to Anson. “There’s only one. I suggest you have your head and arm take turns with it.”

With a bemused expression, he took it, baring his teeth for a second as he gingerly held the pack against his head.

“If we can’t go to a hospital, please let me at least clean some of your cuts. Do you know what necrotizing fasciitis is? Believe me, you don’t want it.” Hopefully that would coerce him. Anson seemed like a germaphobe.

His skin turned a slight green at the thought, and he held out his cut-up hand. She pulled over the first aid kit, riffling through it until she found the antiseptic ointment and some bandages.

“If you’re going to poke and prod at me all afternoon, can you reward me after by finding something to eat?” The corners of his lips curled as if trying to smile, but it was too painful. It ended up looking more like a grimace.

“It’s actually close to nightfall. You were out most of the day.” She glanced out the front window of the cabin, overlooking the valley. A rainbow of colors lit up the sky between the mountain peaks in the distance, ushering in the beautiful sunset.

“Oh.” He blinked away the remaining disorientation and confusion. It probably felt to Anson like he was only out a few minutes. “Well, what about the food? Do you think whoever owns this place left something edible behind?”

“FUC owns this place,” she revealed. “We’re in one of their safehouses. And, yes, there are plenty of nonperishables.”

“Ow.” He pulled his hand back when she tried wiping one of the cuts with the ointment.

“I’m being as gentle as I can.” He offered his hand back. She dabbed at it, barely applying pressure. His eyes fluttered shut as he squinted. “I’m almost done.” Grabbing for the bandages, she put down the ointment and selected the best size. Gingerly, she laid the bandage across his hand, tapping at the adhesive so it would latch onto his skin without hurting from the pressure of pressing it on. “Now for your head wounds.”

He snatched his hand back. “No way. That hurt bad enough. I’m not letting you anywhere near my face.”

“Come on. You don’t want an infection.”

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