Vigilante Mine (37 page)

Amanda's heart beat with sluggish thumps. Too slow. And too damned faint.

"God, no." Ryan shoved the door open.

His own heart folded in on itself.

A strangled cry ripped raw from his throat and he splashed into the overflowing tub before he registered his body was in motion. Frigid water soaked him to the bone. He lifted her face with desperate hands, tore off the mask. Pale, pale skin. Her lips were . . . pale pink, not blue.

"Sweetheart. Amanda. Please, please, open your eyes."

His ability clung to her heartbeat and her ragged breathing like an anchor in the fiercest storm. Her body shivered. Distantly, he hoped, prayed, shivering was a good sign.

On his knees with her, Ryan wrapped one arm around her waist. He hugged her tight to his chest, keeping her head upright and out of the water. With the other hand, he twisted the cold water valve. The water stopped. He clung to his detective as he tried to make sense of the doubled-up pair of handcuffs lashing her to the tub fixtures.

"Keys. I need keys."

"What kind of keys? Help's on the way, Ry," Jay's voice cut through the terror roaring in his head.

"Can't wait for you," Ryan murmured. Her head lolled against his shirt. He couldn't find enough air to fill his lungs.

So, so still.

"She's breathing, Spiritwalker."

Ryan shut everything out of his ears but her vitals. Shallow, smooth, her lungs sounding blessedly free of liquid.

But she was so, so cold.

One set of handcuffs formed a crossbar of short, taut chain between the temperature knobs, the other daisy-chained and securing Amanda's wrists. The position had kept her trapped, her forehead under the freezing water, her nose and mouth tucked closer to her chest. Like a pair of defibrillator paddles, rage punched his ribcage.

"Fuck keys."

Ryan pushed her up, holding her upper body rigid with his arms as he leaned against the wall for leverage. He kicked out with a foot and one water-logged Oxford nailed the "H" on the knob. A piece of tile chipped free. Striking lower the second time, his foot found its target underneath the hot water valve. The third time, the hardware snapped. Amanda slid off the chain, her body knocking into his. Ryan slipped on the side of the tub. They both went under with a splash. He floundered for balance, found purchase on the rubber treads she had glued to the bottom of the basin, and dragged her against his body.

Ryan hauled them both up and out of the tub. "Amanda, hang on. Just hang on, sweetheart."

Towels. He wrapped the closest one around her and cradled her limp form in his arms as he carried her to her bedroom. Warm. The next few minutes passed in a trance of methodical activity. Her medicine cabinet held a miracle stash of bobby pins and fabric shears. He picked her cuffs, cursed at the raw, angry lines in her skin, sliced her drenched clothes from her body, and threw back the sheets on her bed.

Tucking her in, Ryan surrounded her with heavy bedding and layers of warmth. Her teeth chattered. He could do more. His suit jacket hit the floor, the rest of his clothes off in short order. Then he climbed into bed after her, wrapping her tight to his frame, wishing he could imbue her with his own heat.

In quick, anxious strokes, Ryan rubbed her arms, her shoulders, her cheeks, her hair. "Please, Amanda. Wake up."

Dimly, he registered the presence of his spirit guide as Romeo slid into the room. Forget the turf war, vigilantes, serial killers, ancestral legends. Nothing mattered but Amanda's life. That her heart continued to beat.

Then, and only then, he'd destroy the bastard who'd thought to kill the woman he loved.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Two hours later
Zach and Jay had canvassed the neighborhood and had taken up guard duty near the foot of Amanda's queen-sized bed. The middle-aged physician they'd hijacked from the nearest ER was no stranger to McLelas emergencies. He finished his thorough once-over of Amanda
—
now dressed in dry layers
—
without question. Ryan hovered at the man's elbow and burrowed his fingers in the ruff of Romeo's neck.

"Her vitals check out. She's stable. And she's lucky you dropped by." Helpfully, the doctor prescribed rest.

The medical confirmation to what his ears had already assured him soothed the ache in his chest. "Thank you for coming out tonight, doc."

Not that his brothers had given him a choice.

Romeo whined.

She's okay.
Ryan gave an affectionate squeeze of Romeo's fur.
She's safe.

"You boys know how to settle the bill." The doctor passed by Zach and raised an eyebrow. Zach tensed. His eyes flashed dangerously when the doctor fingered his stethoscope.

"Ah, I wouldn't," Ryan warned. "He's back to normal."

"Just as well." The doctor smiled. "There's been more than enough emergencies for one night. Call me if anything changes."

Forcing Zach to stay in the hospital had been bad enough. Poking and prodding him outside of those walls was to risk one's limbs. The doctor gave his brother a wide berth on the way out. Personal experience.

Jay left to escort the man to the front door. Honeyed strands of hair clung to Amanda's forehead. Ryan smoothed them back with his fingertips. His mind remained unsettled, like it needed the touchstones of her voice, the fire in her eyes. Even if they were walled in ice, mistrust, disappointment, God, to have her blink those feisty blues at him again.

Zach cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Ryan."

Ryan slid him a look. "For what?"

"Because no one saw anything." Zach seemed to sink into himself as he rested against the wall. "Because we're stuck with no answers. Because I knew something was going to happen. Something bad. I just couldn't tell
—
"

"Whoa, Z, don't put this on yourself. You couldn't have known." Ryan slid his palm to Amanda's cheek. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I should have been here."

"We got the syndicate locked away, right?" Jay asked, returning from the living room. "One less public menace to worry about."

Ryan's fist dropped to tighten in the comforter. "Yes."

"Then quit looking for guilt, both of you. We'll stop this guy." Jay slung an arm around Ryan's back. "You were exactly where you needed to be. She's alive because of you. And you," he nodded at Zach, "since when has your mojo gone beyond Ryan or me? Connecting to someone else isn't the reason it's getting worse
—
"

"Screw you, Sunshine." Zach pushed off the wall and stalked from the room.

Ryan gaped after him. "I thought the bust would help."

"I riled him up in the truck." Jay sighed. "He's worried. The timing of the seizures didn't line up with anything more than a scratch for you, nothing for me. It means something's still coming. He's just trying to find an explanation, but your girlfriend isn't it. I'll go talk to him."

"He's still in pain," Ryan said with sudden certainty. Zach was using anger to mask his so-familiar cues. "Why is he hiding that from me?"

Jay cut a sharp look at Amanda, then quickly away. "Because you'll want to fix it."

Helplessness tugged like heavy weights on Ryan's shoulders, but he refused to let them fall. "I can't."

"No," Jay whispered from the hallway. "You can't. Don't feel bad, Ry. No one can."

Ryan dropped into the chair by Amanda's side and heard quiet voices as Jay settled in for battle in the living room. When he wasn't playing Klepto, the youngest of their trio fought with words, reason, his heart instead of his fists. Too much heart to be involved in a syndicate turf war. Jay had found a comfortable niche as head of McLelas Financial's HR department, but his ability and his spirit guide were more at home under a night sky.

It wasn't just the drive to fix things that cut into Ryan's sleep and wore on his conscience. He tried to take care of them, to watch their backs and keep them out of harm's way, but more and more, like tonight, his brothers took to the streets to derail criminal schemes. Ryan didn't regret their involvement. Klepto was a big job, and he couldn't do it alone. But with each instance of mutating and unexplainable powers that complicated their nocturnal-curricular activities, responsibility pinched a little more.

Ryan frowned, smoothing the comforter with his fingers. He'd dragged someone else along this path with them. He'd made her the focus of a serial killer and a syndicate. Entangling Amanda in the grayer areas of his life was going to get her killed.

"She courted danger long before you met, Spiritwalker."

His gaze fell to the crumpled silk mask on her nightstand. "This is different."

"I doubt she'll agree. This was a personal attack."

"I'll give you that. Her lieutenant said from the beginning this was an inside job, so it fits it'd be someone she knows. Drowning just doesn't fit in with this guy's other attacks." Ryan scooted onto the end of her bed and rubbed his temples. "He called her at the fundraiser and told her to get away from me."

"Mmhm. Everything's about you."

"Right." A flicker of amusement caught him off-guard. "But let's assume for the moment it isn't."

Romeo snorted.

"He warned her off," Ryan continued. "He got his wish. Why would he come to her home to kill her, with me out of the equation?"

"Maybe he didn't realize you were an idiot who'd just let her walk away."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Thanks."

"For calling it like it is?"
Ever-helpful, Romeo propped his paws up on the end of the bed and slobbered on Ryan's hand.

Despite everything, a laugh bubbled in his chest.

"Any time, Spiritwalker."

Thump. Loud and hard, from the heartbeat his ears had been too afraid to release since the moment he'd pulled her from the tub. Thumpthumpthump.

Ryan swung around the side of the bed. "Amanda?"

He closed his hands over one of hers. She looked better. Shades of edible-as-ripe-peaches had returned to her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered, and the blood in Ryan's veins did a victory lap that left him lightheaded.

"No!" She came off the bed in a jolt and with a scream that blanked his filters.

Blinding pain stabbed behind his eyes.

Ryan groaned. Four pounding feet raced into the room. An arm wrapped around his middle and Romeo dug into his mind.

"You can fight this,"
Romeo said, the humor from moments ago replaced with urgency.

Strands of sound, visible, tangible, swam behind his eyes. Impossible to unravel.

Amanda.

He was holding her too tight. His hand clenched uncontrollably around her fingers as he gave shove after mental shove to boost his white noise filters, trying to rein in his ability. His eyelids shut, but the spots of light glowed brighter.

Can't hurt her. Won't.

"Ryan . . . " she said, and her voice was soft, husky, sweet.

He loved this woman.

"Give him a second, Detective," Jay said.

He was certain the brother who kept him from collapsing on top of his Spirit-mate had tried to whisper, but unlike Amanda's soothing voice, Jay's words bounced around Ryan's head like bullets off metal. He was going to lose his hearing all over again, and they'd just healed from the last mess.

"Let her help you. She knows now,"
Romeo said.

Amanda caught her breath and wrapped her other hand around his, her eyes tight with concern and guilt. She wasn't the problem. Her scream might have shocked his focus, but it was all the other noises, from multiple sets of lungs breathing to the heating register in her floor, everything else ramping up in his head and he couldn't block them out.

"Office," Zach seemed to shout directly into his eardrum.

"No." Ryan tried to jerk free and the arm around his waist slipped. His cheek hit a pillow and he breathed in chocolate and caramel. Amanda. Alive. He couldn't be carried away, holed up in his office, and waiting for his filters to settle, not where he wouldn't know if she was safe.
I can't leave her, Romeo.

"They will leave."
Romeo growled and Jay's muscles froze.

"Bed." Amanda delivered the counter-order with a crisp tone that belied her exhaustion. "Don't. Don't argue. You'll hurt him more."

He felt himself lifted onto the mattress, Amanda's warm body curling into his side. Thunderous footsteps retreated, slowly, hesitantly, in the direction of the door.

"Trust me." Amanda's free hand closed over his bicep. "Cut the heat. And take the wall clock."

His brothers knew the drill. How did Amanda?

A labyrinth of sounds continued to pelt him like rocks, but the front door opened and closed.

"At least you're lying in bed this time. A lot softer than my floor." A cool hand stroked his cheek.

One white noise filter kicked on. Then another. His mind floundered less and less in chaos. Though his grip on her fingers eased, his supernatural hearing chafed as if the earpiece was no longer enough to keep the range contained. What if Zach's tech stopped working altogether?