Pulling a dagger out of my boot, I slide it between the door and the jamb, moving it down the crack until it connects with the shaft of the bolt. I hold the blade steady with one hand, angling down into the door, and then slam my palm into the end of the hilt.
The dagger jolts down halfway. One more palm to the hilt and the blade swings free, the deadbolt shaft severed in half. There are some definite advantages to super strength.
I smirk at the thought that this door will never lock again. The monsters will have to either repair or relocate.
Turning to Grace, I give her the thumbs-up.
She turns her attention to the electrical panel. I resheathe my dagger and then wait, hand on the doorknob, for her next signal. Seconds later, she squeals as the panel erupts in a spray of sparks.
Inside, the fire alarm roars to life, pounding out an ear-splitting siren.
“Okay, go!” she shouts.
But I’m already gone.
Inside, the main lights are out, but the faint glow of emergency backups is more than enough to illuminate my path. Enough to see the hypnotized human army staying utterly—and creepily—still while the monsters around them erupt in chaos.
No one notices me as I sprint from the broken door, through the field of human statues, to the spiral staircase. I climb three steps at a time, making it to the top winded, but in three seconds—right on my estimate.
Pulse pounding, I scan the office as I run through the door, finding it empty except for Nick.
“Nick,” I bark as I spin his chair around and lift a dagger to the rope. “Wake up!”
He doesn’t even groan.
Sawing through the ropes takes several seconds more than I guessed. My heart races faster the longer I take. I’ve just cut through the last rope when the alarm stops.
I curse. “Nick, Nick, come on.”
I shove my dagger back into my boot as I haul him up out of the chair, ducking down so I can heft him onto my shoulder. Fine. I can do this.
I turn to leave.
“Going somewhere, huntress?” the boss asks, an ugly smirk on his ugly dog face.
The weapon in his flipper—what looks like a pistol that’s been modified so he can fire it without fingers—stops me more than the two Cacus bodyguards at his back.
“Thought I’d take this off your hands,” I say, nodding at Nick. “You have so much on your plate already, what with the plans for monster world takeover and everything. You should be thanking me.”
His face contorts with what I think is rage.
Odds are not in my favor. With Nick over my shoulder, I’m not agile or nimble. I can’t reach my daggers. I can’t get the smoke bombs from my left pocket or the flash bombs from the right. All I have is my wit, and that only seems to make him angry.
“Oh, I do thank you, huntress,” the dog boss says, “for walking right into my trap.”
I shrug one shoulder. “I do what I can.”
“Boys,” the boss says, nodding at his bodyguards.
They step around him, reaching for—
An explosion rocks the entire building. The boss stumbles back, and his bodyguards, caught off-balance, tumble to the ground.
I can only hope this is the second wave of Grace’s distraction plan.
I don’t hesitate.
Securing my arm around Nick’s waist, I leap over the guards and knock into the boss on my way to the staircase. I’m a third of the way down when I see the boss fall past me, landing on the concrete floor below with a sickening crunch.
Then I’m sprinting across the floor, toward the door that Grace is holding open. Sillus is sitting on her shoulders, waving at me to run faster.
“What was that?” I ask as I blow through.
“You were behind schedule,” she says, panting but keeping pace next to me as we sprint down the pier. “Figured you could use some help, so I blew the transformer.”
There’s no time to maneuver Nick into a car seat.
As I pop Moira’s trunk, I give Grace a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
Before she can answer, Sillus is in the back, Nick is secured, and Grace and I are speeding away from the warehouse. I watch in the rearview mirror as the boss’s bodyguards come chasing after us. I floor the gas and leave them breathing my exhaust.
With adrenaline filling my bloodstream, it’s no wonder I’m driving a bit wild. Grace is gripping her seat belt with both hands, knuckles white, with a frightened look on her face. I take a quick survey of our surroundings and realize that we’re on a direct path to the most tourist-dense part of town.
It’s as good a place as any to get lost for a minute.
I cut left on Market and then merge right onto Geary. Barely stopping to snatch a parking ticket from the gate, I speed into the garage beneath Union Square Park.
When I cut the engine, I release a breath I think I’ve been holding since we squealed away from the pier. Grace releases the death grip on her seat belt.
Without waiting for her to make some comment about my driving, I jump out of the car and run around to the trunk, popping the release as I go. Nick is already waking when I pull the trunk lid up and out of the way.
“I thought we were past the locking-me-in-the-trunk phase,” he grumbles as he pushes himself into a sitting position.
“We are.” I grab him by the forearms and pull him out of the trunk—again I find it’s really useful to have super strength. “We are not, apparently, past the saving-your-butt-from-the-monster-horde phase.”
“Oh yeah.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “That.”
“Yeah, that,” I repeat.
He straightens to his full height—a few inches taller than me—and I have to resist the urge to wrap my arms around his waist and rest my cheek against his chest. I don’t think my pulse has slowed to anything near normal since Grace first told me he’d been taken.
Now, finally, I can relax.
“Hey, Nick,” Grace says as she finally forces herself out of the car. She walks up and punches him. Hard.
“Ow.” He rubs the spot on his arm. “What was that for?”
“For throwing me in that elevator and getting yourself taken prisoner,” she says without any venom. “Next time ask first if you’re planning on sacrificing yourself. I would have said no.”
His mouth curves up into an amused grin. “Note taken.”
“Good.” She flashes him a cheery smile. “Now, I’ll be in the car with the monkey so you two can make out.”
I pretend to kick her as she dances out of range.
When she closes the car door behind her, I give in to my urge. Wrapping both arms around Nick’s waist, I lean into him and hug him tight.
“You weren’t worried about me, were you, Sharpe?” he teases.
I can’t answer. If I tell him the truth, he’ll know how I feel about him. If I lie, he’ll know I’m lying, which will tell him how I feel about him. Either way, I’m revealing more of those feelings that I try to keep locked up tight.
“You don’t have to say it,” he says, his voice soft and serious for once. “I was worried about you.”
“Me?” I ask, pulling back to look at him. “I wasn’t taken prisoner.”
“But I was.” His mouth quirks up to one side. “Who would protect you if I was dead?”
I narrow a scowl at him. “Who usually protects who in this relationship?”
“It’s a relationship, then?” he counters.
Darn it. He is too good at these verbal games. I’m better at the physical. So rather than try to beat him with words, I use my mouth another way.
Our lips are just about to touch when the horn on my car blares. The sound echoes off the concrete of the parking structure, amplifying it to eardrum-damaging levels.
“Sorry,” Grace shouts out her open window. “Sillus got a little handsy with the steering wheel.”
I laugh and relax into Nick’s chest.