Page 72 of Mongrels United
The silent voice, the one that spoke more and more often in his mind, these days, murmured.The ship will learn about her association with you.
Nash shook his head at the chiding words. “Not about me,” he muttered, hoping no one was behind him to hear him talking to himself.
If he was going to be truthful, he might as well be completely truthful, even if it was just to himself.
This wasn’t about him. It was about the risk to Grady.
Grady was already vulnerable, while he dug around this Bellish thing. She couldn’t afford to have the militant let’s-stop idiots come after her. They’d already tried to reach her through her father, and only failed because the man had a thick head and amazing recuperative powers.
Camilla would lead everyone to Nash, and that would lead everyone to Grady, because she was part of his life now.
Nash stopped in the middle of the road, his head down, listening to that thought repeat itself.
“Yes,” he whispered, realizing this was what was driving his anger.
Grady was part of his life. She’d dug roots and wound herself around him like a vine…and he didn’t care. More than that. Helikedit. And he didn’t want anything getting in the way of it. If anyone tried to hurt Grady….
Nash didn’t hear the running footsteps, coming up behind him, until it was nearly too late. He checked the instinctive spin to see who it was and instead did the unexpected, which was to drop to the ground and jig sideways.
The knife blade whizzed through the air where he had been standing, the wielder grunting with effort when the knife didn’t strike something solid. He’d been thrown too far forward by the lack of resistance.
Nash pushed off from his toes, using all his bodyweight to ram his shoulder into the man’s flank. He got the impression of big. Solid. Dark hair going grey behind the ears.
The knife whipped around toward Nash even as the man stumbled forward. Nash barely threw himself out of the way. The blade snicked through the sleeve of his jacket. A sharp line of pain etched itself across his forearm.
The man with the knife sprawled along the floor, his breath escaping in a heavy grunt.
A second set of steps behind him. This time, Nash turned to face the attacker.
They were wearing a mask.
But they weren’t holding a knife. Apparently, the two had thought that coming at Nash from behind only required one knife.
Nash bared his teeth at the masked one, and beckoned him closer. “I’mjustin the mood,” he assured him.
Chapter Thirty-One
The message came through just as Grady was setting her dinner upon her workstation at the big table, and hooking her pad out from underneath the heated plate. She tapped the connect key with her elbow, wiped off the pad, then looked up at the screen.
“Nash!” He was calling her at the office? Alarm crashed through her. “What’s happened?”
Nash lifted a hand in a placating gesture and winced. “I’m fine,” he said quickly. “But I’m…” He shook his head. “Shit, this is going to sound worse than it is.”
“Italreadysounds bad, and I don’t have any details,” Grady said. Her voice emerged hoarse. “Put me out of my misery, Nash.”
He nodded. “I’m at the hospice in the Capitol. They won’t let me go home alone.”
He just wanted someone to get him out of there, she realized.
Then, hard on the heels of that cynical voice, came another.He wantsmeto help him.
Grady got to her feet. “I’m on my way.” She shut down the screen before Nash could protest.
* * * * *
The hospice was a rundown establishment, lacking facilities and clearly lacking the money to improve what they had. The walls were mostly silver where the emitters had died and not been replace, and the floor worn to an unattractive dirty pale green, with darker green pigmentation on the edges of the corridors.
Grady was appalled at the conditions. She knew the Medical Institute’s budget almost to the credit. Where did all that money go? She made a note to look into it, tomorrow.
