Collector's Item (7 page)

“Hold these against the shoulder wounds,” the ranger said, handing KT two unwrapped bandages. She did as she was told, shifting a little to get a better angle and trying not to exert any more pressure than necessary.

The ranger tore a hole in Peyton’s shirt so he could get a better look at Peyton’s chest wound, courtesy of a penlight held between his teeth.

Trying not to think about all the things the bullet could have done to him, KT focused on Peyton’s face as he let his head fall back against the side of the truck. Pain deepened the lines in his face and staggered his breath. His skin seemed too cool under her fingers and the anger in his eyes began to fade as he appeared to strain to keep his eyes open. A knot the size of a bus settled in her chest, and she struggled to take a deep breath.

There was so much blood!

She leaned over to whisper into his ear. “Don’t you dare die on me, Peyton! I
need
you to stay with me.” When she straightened, his eyes were closed. Only the visible pulse in his neck kept her from shouting. “Peyton?”

The voices of the other rangers flowed over her, calls for support, confirmation of the car description and license plate number, and requests for orders. Cryptic military jargon rattled in the air and stuttered out of communicators.

She looked at the ranger who had begun to bandage the chest wound. “Where’s that damned ambulance?”

“On its way,” he said. He handed her a fresh pad. “Keep up the pressure.”

KT looked at the pads she’d been holding against Peyton’s shoulder. Dark stains had spread beneath her fingers, and her hand shook as she replaced the pad. A deep breath steadied her, despite the iron tang of blood in the air. Peyton’s blood.

The wail of the approaching ambulance echoed Andi’s howl.

Chapter Six

“You should have stayed at the hanger.” Peyton glared at KT over the shoulder of the Paranormal Medical Technician. “You could have been shot.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t, or you might have bled to death out there,” KT snapped.

Peyton snorted, but then winced as the other PMT shoved an IV into his arm. “Not likely. They’ll just patch me up and I’ll be back in the hunt.”

“How about you let us be the judge of that,” said the female PMT as she pressed an oxygen mask to his face effectively shutting him up.

Squeezed into a corner of the ambulance, KT tried to stay out of the way of the medics working on Peyton. The female paramedic applied fresh bandages while the male paramedic adjusted the IV. Both PMT’s kept up a constant stream of incomprehensible medical jargon between themselves and the radio to the closest paranormal hospital.

And through it all, KT kept mentally repeating to herself,
You’d better not die on me, Peyton Allers. Don’t die on me!

At the hospital, she all but tumbled out of the back of the ambulance in the wake of the PMT’s. An ER nurse tried to keep KT from following the gurney down the hall, but froze when KT snarled at her. KT kept pace with the gurney and stayed well out of the way of the nurses and doctors clustered around it.

“I need an operating room, STAT!”

“Hang another bag and get that bleeding under control!”

“Where’s that anesthesiologist?”

The swinging doors muffled their voices when they passed through into Surgery. KT stopped the doors’ swing with her foot. Her palm against the glass, she watched through the little window as the gurney and its entourage disappeared through another set of doors.

Andi pushed hard for KT to follow the gurney, to follow Peyton.

KT’s fingers curled into frustrated fists.
Don’t you think I want to? We can’t.
She turned aside and slumped against the wall.
We can’t.

She ran her hands over her face and then up through her hair. The painful pull of tangles might have explained the tears that welled up in her eyes, but she knew better. Panic continued to clench her heart and rob her of breath. She slid down the wall and dropped her head between her bent knees.

She hadn’t felt so helpless or frightened since—

“Ms. Marant?” a female voice asked, pitched low and non-threatening.

KT looked up to see another nurse standing a short distance away, a worried expression on her face. The nurse stooped to bring her face close to KT’s level, but her eyes focused over KT’s shoulder, mimicking a submissive pose. “The ambulance driver told me the gentleman is Captain Peyton Allers?”

KT nodded. She remembered the ranger speaking with the driver while she was climbing into the ambulance.

The nurse relaxed. “We have a VIP waiting room upstairs.”

“No,” KT said.

“Okay. Then, we have another waiting room, just down here, where you can have some privacy, Ms. Marant.” She held out her hand. “Will you come with me?”

KT took a deep breath and nodded. She certainly couldn’t stay out here in the hallway.

Andi growled.
No. Stay.

KT pushed her down.
We are, just not out here.

She rose to her feet, glanced at the nurse’s name badge, and nodded again. “Of course, Nurse Helena. Thank you.”

The nurse led her the short distance to the waiting room and pointed out the amenities. The private bathroom, where KT could clean herself up. The coffee maker, with individual portion cups for making coffee, tea or hot chocolate. The phone, if she needed to call or receive calls from family. The control for the television, blessedly turned off.

When the nurse’s voice faded into silence, KT tried to give her a smile, but suspected she failed miserably. “You’ve been very kind. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Nurse Helena said. She nodded her head toward the double doors. “I know how it feels to have someone you care about in there. Now, I’m going off duty, but if you need anything, just pick up the phone and dial zero.”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.” KT sat down on the couch.

This room smells of fear
, Andi whined.
Why can’t we go after Peyton?

We just can’t
, KT returned.

The nurse hesitated and then asked, “Is there someone I can call for you before I leave? Your father?”

KT flinched inside at the thought of her father’s reaction to her part in tonight’s events. By now, the Alliance team would have contacted him. That she had taken such a risk without speaking to him first would send him through the roof. Her cell phone back at her apartment had probably exploded under the pressure. That conversation would have to wait until her head was clearer.

“No, thank you. I’ll call him in a few moments,” she said.

“Well, try to relax. Doctor Williams will come out and let you know how it went. Captain Allers is in good hands.” She smiled and then hurried away.

KT stared at the opposite wall where an over-sized painting of a sun-drenched landscape tried to emulate a restful environment. The waiting room’s calming pastels and subdued lighting should have helped, but KT, and Andi, only wanted to get up and pace.

Why was she here anyway? Why was she
here
?

Yeah, she wanted to make sure Peyton would be okay, but she couldn’t actually do anything for him.

He’s our alpha
, Andi insisted.
We wait for him
.

Quit saying that
. KT shook her head.
Aside from helping me get close to Torne, Peyton is a total stranger. I know nothing about him.

He’s a worthy mate. Strong. Brave. Loyal. Smart.
Andi paced along the edges of her mind, irritated
. He protected us. He’s our alpha
.

KT shook her head. To Andi, it was so simple. “I may be a were, but I don’t choose a mate like this,” she said aloud.

I chose him, and so will you
. Andi’s certainty and satisfaction unshakable.

KT huffed. Arguing was useless. Andi would have to learn to accept KT’s judgment on this topic. And yet, here she was, waiting, as if she had a personal stake in Peyton’s condition.

She took a deep breath. Well, of course she did. As a clan leader, she’d been trained to hold her people’s well-being as a priority. Peyton got shot helping her with a plan he believed hare-brained from the start. She
was
responsible. She just wanted to make sure he came through surgery. Then she could leave.

You won’t.
Andi’s confidence scraped along KT’s nerves.

Especially since KT sensed the jag was right. She hit her fist on her thigh.
Why
was she here?

She took another breath and wrinkled her nose. The smell of dried blood surrounded her and her skin itched with it. Going into the little bathroom, she got a look at herself in the mirror of the tiny bathroom and finally understood the nurse’s offhand comment about cleaning up.

Dark stains covered her shirt and pants. Streaks of dried blood smeared down the side of her face and neck. Peyton’s blood.

She gripped the edge of the sink for a moment as her vision blurred. The throbbing in her temples reminded her of the feel of his heartbeat under her hands. A dozen deep breaths later, she calmed enough to pry her fingers from the rim of the steel bowl.

When she’d practically filled the wastebasket with crumpled paper towels, KT gave up. Her skin was scrubbed clean and she had finger-combed the worst of the knots out of her hair. Wet blotches on her shirt and pants chilled her skin, but the worst of the stains appeared to be gone. She exited the bathroom, flicking off the light and fan, and returned to the couch in front of the painting.

Looking around the empty waiting room, she realized she should have stayed at the hangar. She should have told someone what she saw. That she saw Patricia with Torne.

KT’s heart twisted. It was so dark and it all happened so fast. Did she really see Patricia in that car? She could have been mistaken.

The image flashed across her mind’s eye again and KT had to accept what she saw. Patricia’s oval face, dark eyes wide, generous mouth forming that little “O” of surprise, as if she recognized KT in the same moment.

What was Patricia doing in a car with Douglas Torne? Had he collected her, too? Was she a hostage?

A hostage left alone in a car outside the hanger? It didn’t make sense. Abduct someone, hold them for weeks, and then leave them unattended in a dark parking lot while you went inside? Inside a building without windows?

Unbidden, her father’s voice dropped into her mind. “Someone in the Alliance is giving the Collectors the locations of isolated weres.”

He’d told her that the night before she left for New York. It had been one comment in a long argument about her refusal to have a bodyguard or to stay at the penthouse. She’d assumed he was admitting that her fears for Patricia may have been correct, but could his comment have meant something else?

What if Patricia wasn’t a victim? What if her role was not as victim, but as corroborator? Could she? How
could
she?

KT sprang to her feet and began to stalk around the room as if she could outpace the horrifying concept. She could not accept it without more evidence.

Remembering the feel of plastic ties around her wrists, KT admitted Patricia could have been secured. And being Unadapted, Patricia could not shift, even if she wanted. Add a tranquilizer or sedative of some kind, and Patricia would be helpless as a kitten.

Patricia is never helpless
, Andi snorted.

Andi didn’t like Patricia, didn’t trust anyone Unadapted.

KT sensed it related to survival of the fittest. There had been a time when the Unadapted did not survive puberty, either naturally or assisted. KT shuddered and her glance caught on the wall clock.

How long had it been since they disappeared with Peyton? Only an hour? What was taking so long? Was it normal? What was normal?

As the hours passed, KT began to feel more and more like a cat chasing her tail. Her thoughts circled around and around two topics—Peyton and Patricia.

At one point, a man from the Protectors came in and introduced himself as Sean Beatty. He told her he had settled everything regarding Peyton’s care and urged her to go home. She politely refused. He looked at her for a moment, and then nodded.

“Just like your father,” he said. “Your people come first. But really, Captain Allers probably won’t even come to until tomorrow. You should go home, get cleaned up, and come back later.”

“Thank you, Mr. Beatty,” she said, but did not move. He waited for a while longer, then turned, and left her alone.

She tried sitting and flipping through some of the out-of-date magazines, but tossed them aside in irritation. Reading old gossip, last season’s fashion tips, or last month’s top news stories did not hold her attention. She resolved to pay for a series of subscriptions for the hospital waiting rooms. Worried family members and friends needed distraction not frustration.

Family? Friends?
Andi’s smug nudge launched KT back to her feet.

Stop it!

She paced back and forth, her ears strained for the sound of swinging doors. The movement helped release some of the tension, but it seemed as if the air in the room grew thinner and thinner the more time passed. She made a cup of coffee, but the powdered creamer tasted terrible. She made a cup of tea, tooth-aching sweet with sugar, to wash the taste of the coffee from her mouth.