concern.
Adam’s steely gray gaze softened as well, and he shrugged somewhat reluctantly. “And your involvement with Segue may have made you a target for wraiths.”
“Great. So you’re saying that because I accepted the help of
“That’s not possible.” Adam’s voice was flat and uncompromising.
“Oh, I think it is,” Annabella said, so livid a quaver entered her voice. She might not have the nerve to yell at the pregnant woman, but Adam could take it. “I want to see Custo, and I want to see him now.”
“He’s not safe.”
“He treated me a whole lot better than you.”
Adam’s eyes glittered. “Custo is in lockdown and will remain there. Wraiths are permitted no visitors.”
Frustration had Annabella’s body warming. “You seem like a smart guy, and yet you’re not getting it.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t care.
“He. Saved. Me.” She enunciated each word in case he was hard of hearing, too.
“Custo will remain in lockdown. You are welcome to stay here while we investigate your problem, but you are also free to leave.” Adam gestured toward the door.
Poor Talia. The man was impossible. Annabella turned on her heel to exit the cell. Free to leave? Well, that’s exactly what she was going to do.
“Stay,” Talia said, reaching out to catch her arm. “Just for the night.”
Annabella tried not to scowl at her. “I don’t want any of this. I want my old life back.”
“I don’t think there’s any going back,” Talia said with a slow shake of her head.
Obviously, Talia knew nothing about the power of avoidance. A lot of problems went away if Annabella ignored them and thought of something else, something better. It was a gift.
“One night,” Talia repeated.
Annabella took a deep breath and sighed, her rage and bluff evaporating into the air. She needed the sleep—she couldn’t avoid that. And if they could help her get rid of the wolf as Custo promised, then okay. She didn’t like it, but okay. “One night.”
Talia broke out of Adam’s hold and moved to the door. “You’ll be comfortable in the infirmary. There are a couple of private rooms, and it is always staffed, so help is close. I doubt any wolf, Shadow or otherwise, could bother you there.”
Adam gestured,
Annabella exited the cell behind Talia to find herself in a long concrete corridor of several similar cells. Uniformed guards stood sentry at regular intervals, armor molding their upper bodies and helmets stretching down over their faces. Some kind of machine gun was held at their chests, ready to fire. Good thing she hadn’t tried to run. Where the hell was she?
“Don’t mind them,” Talia said over her shoulder as they walked the length of the passage. “They’re the good guys.”
Good guys, right. If those were the good guys, then the bad guys must be seriously scary.
The three of them came to an enormous retractable door made of riveted metal both wide and high enough to accommodate a vehicle. Adam tapped a coded panel at its side, and the door shuddered open, an earsplitting screech of metal on metal echoing through the space. Beyond, the corridor resembled a long, lit tunnel, like an industrial subway. Broken yellow lines on the floor dictated two-way traffic, though it was empty now. The concrete ceiling was high, yet the passage had a cavernous feeling, as if she were far underground. In spite of all the space, all the air, Annabella had to work to breathe against a mounting press of claustrophobia.
“The place was retrofitted from a government bomb shelter,” Talia said. “It’s built to withstand anything, which is great for wraith control, but I hate it anyway.”
“I think I hate it, too,” Annabella answered with a thick swallow. She was all about creature comforts—soft pillows, Egyptian sheets, warm colors, cuddly throws flung over the arm of the sofa, and knickknacks cluttering every surface. This place was as cold and harsh and empty as a grave. “You live here?”
Talia laughed, but it sounded forced. “Temporarily. The Segue Institute’s main facility is in West Virginia, recently renovated and very comfortable.”
Annabella doubted it.
They came to and boarded a massive yellow cargo lift, an open-air vehicle elevator. Annabella mimicked Adam and Talia, standing back from the edge and grasping the railing. Talia leaned into Adam’s chest, and the elevator rose slowly through an opening in the high ceiling to another floor.
Traffic on the upper level was brisk: a tram of sorts, engine whining, slowly transported crates of equipment. Tunnel pedestrians in lab coats walked with purpose, badges flapping at their waists and on their chests. Armed sentries stood post, as they had on the level below. Sweaty, muscled men in tanks and shorts jogged the length of the space, feet falling in perfect rhythm to an outlying soldier who set the pace.
Adam looked down at Talia. “You didn’t take a cart?”
“I felt like walking,” she said. “I’ve been sitting all day.”
“You
“Don’t boss me.”
Annabella followed the bickering pair, turning from the corridor down a low, modern hallway, busy with a smattering of determined-looking people in lab coats and white shirts going about their work—whatever that was. Custo and Adam were right about something: She couldn’t see the wolf infiltrating this place. It banished imagination, even nightmares. The security of the codes, badges, and soldiers made the very idea of a Shadow wolf silly.
They came to a set of glass doors marked INFIRMARY and were about to enter when Adam was stopped by a harried man, who murmured something in his ear.
Adam listened, then turned back to Talia. “Mind if you get her settled? I need to take care of something.”
“Not at all. I’ll meet you back in our quarters later.” Talia reached up, grabbed his shirtfront, and brushed her mouth against his. Adam’s hand went to her hair and his nostrils flared as if he were inhaling her, and when he pulled away, the lines of stress on his face had lessened. The simple gesture made Annabella ache inside. However Adam and Talia might argue, there was something very real and solid about their connection. Not the fairy-tale brand of love, saccharine and schmaltzy, but the enduring kind. The kind that saw a couple through the ups and downs of life. It had been missing from Annabella’s parents, from any relationship she’d had the opportunity to examine, and she’d concluded it was a myth. But here it was. Now. In this soul-smothering basement bunker. Real. If ever a “true love” existed, this was it.
“Please don’t tire yourself out,” Adam said, tone long-suffering, and moved down the hall.
Annabella swallowed hard, packing away the newfound knowledge for examination later, and followed Talia’s waddle inside the infirmary. The sliding doors hissed closed behind them. Centered in the entryway was a long white counter, staffed by a tall and broad-shouldered male nurse. “Dr. Thorne, are you feeling well? Those babies giving you any trouble?”
“I’m not here for me, Rudy,” Talia answered. “I’m here for Ms. Ames. She needs a private room and a good night’s sleep. Can you help us accommodate her?”
“Fifteen is open,” Rudy said. He looked at Annabella. “Do you need a sleep aid?”
She hadn’t thought of that. Maybe taking something was a good idea. A sleeping pill could put her under for eight to ten, and then she could wake refreshed and ready for the biggest day of her life. Without it, her rest was bound to be rotten, all things considered.
“Yeah,” she said. “Is there something light I could take? Knock me out, but not put me in a coma?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Fifteen is right down there.” Rudy gestured down the hall. “Do you need anything else for the night? Contact solution or any personal items?”
Annabella looked at Talia. “Not if I get my bag back.” Which incidentally had an old, smushed chocolate brownie protein bar in there. Some dinner.
“Of course. Adam would be thorough.” Talia heaved a big sigh. “You go on down to your room. I’ll make some calls and have it delivered right away. We’ll have you tucked in and asleep in no time.”
“Thanks,” Annabella said. The word felt funny in her mouth. Why on earth was she thanking her? For
