“No,” Jane said with a frown.
“Okay, then go straight home. Backup and forensics are on their way, and we’re leaving.”
Jane paused, glancing at Ryan. He looked as if all energy had suddenly left him.
“Forensics? How’s Marco?”
“He’s okay. Long story, talk to you later.” Pain hung up before Jane could reply.
She ground her teeth, annoyed, then looked at Ryan. “Marco’s fine.”
“Good,” he murmured. His face looked too white, as if it wasn’t just the moonlight that washed out his color.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Just a bit dizzy. Must be my arm.” He sounded tired, too.
She stepped closer, raising her hand, but he caught it before it could reach his forehead.
“You don’t look all right,” she protested.
“I’m fine. It’s you we need to get somewhere warm. Look, your hair is all—”
“What’s this?” She peered at the dark smear on her gloveless hand, where he’d touched her. When she looked up into his eyes, he just raised his eyebrows.
Her fingers slipped under the cuff of his jacket, feeling at the sleeve underneath, sticky with blood.
“Ryan, you’re bleeding! Don’t you feel it?” Her panicked voice echoed off the buildings. At least the rain had stopped.
“Not really.” He began to unzip his jacket to look at the wound.
“Don’t.” She zipped it back up. “It’s the stitches. You can’t fly like this. Let’s go back to that warehouse, get someone to drive us home.”
She took his other hand and closed his fingers around his right bicep, hoping the pressure would slow the blood loss. He’d already lost a lot, if it had soaked through the whole sleeve.
“Okay.” He gave her a long look that she couldn’t decipher and followed her down the alley.
After only a few steps, something caught under her boot with a clink. She stepped back and peered at the gleaming object—a small key with a plastic label on it.
Crouching over it, she probed around in her memory. What had the Commando grabbed from the table? Something square, like a box, and a big key ring with a bunch of jangling keys.
“What is it?” Ryan asked, slowing down.
Jane couldn’t know if it was the Commando who’d dropped it. She also couldn’t imagine how a key without the lock could be of any help. But she knew that their forensic team had found something. So, unless she was told otherwise, she would gather every piece of the puzzle she could lay her hands on.
She used her own keys to retrieve the thing from the puddle—she was no expert, but who knew what they could find on it—and dropped it into a plastic baggie she’d previously emptied into her pocket.
“Found something,” she said with a shrug.
Wrapping her arm around Ryan, she nudged him forward, wondering what her sister and the others had discovered at the old warehouse.
Chapter 6
“Well, shit.”
Pain’s gaze darted from Marco to his father as she stepped away, wishing that instead of flying, Alan the Archer had asked his gods for instant teleportation.
“Wait a minute…” Marco drawled, tapping his index finger on his chin. “I promised I’d never call you Father again. I should probably call you Martin, but then, it doesn’t really matter, ’cause in a minute your ass will be out of here.” He took a step forward, holding Martin’s gaze.
Pain expected Martin to look hurt, but all she saw was anger—and disdain. If it wasn’t for the scar on his chin, Martin would look exactly like a twenty-year-older version of Marco.
If the two of them got into a fight, she wouldn’t be able to do shit about it.
Martin stepped forward, only to freeze when the katana pressed into the collar of his coat.
“No one said you could move,” she said. Irritation flashed across his face. “There’s nothing here for us. We’re leaving.”
Marco snorted. “There’s nothing here for him. I say we stay and finish the job.”
Her head turned toward Marco, but her eyes stayed focused on his father. “We’re finished here. Let’s go.”
“Fine. I don’t care, as long as he’s out of my face.”
She lowered the blade.
Martin let out a dry, derisive laugh. “You wouldn’t answer to me,” he said, taking his time with every word. “But you’re fine taking orders from this girl.” He folded his arms on his chest. “What’s she to you, anyway? Everywhere you go, she’s with you. If this is your girlfriend, then I really did fail as a father.”
Pain’s eyes narrowed, and Marco lunged forward, his index finger pointed at Martin’s face. “It’s none of your business! You think I don’t know you’ve been following me around? Are you in with the Commandos? ’Cause I wouldn’t be surprised. Go creep out someone else, and stay away from her.”
He grabbed Pain’s arm and pulled her away, making her stumble. As she restored her balance, she heard Chad’s voice, “Pain?”
“Not now, Chad,” she said without looking.
“Like I got nothing else to do,” Martin snapped back at his son. “We’ve been busting our asses for weeks trying to catch at least one of these guys, and now that we finally have the chance, you come and fuck it up. You and your headquarters, a bunch of kids playing warriors!”
“We?” Marco scoffed, incredulous. “Don’t tell me you brought the whole gang here.”
“Yes, I did. And don’t worry, your little girl, the other one”—He wiggled his fingers at Pain—“doesn’t stand a chance. My boys will take care of it.”
“Watch it, Mohawk,” Pain growled.
Chad’s voice cut in again, “Pain?”
“Wait a sec!” she snapped over her shoulder.
Martin turned to his son and opened his mouth, but Marco raised a hand, cutting him off. “I’m not gonna listen to another word from you.” He looked at Pain. “I’m outta here.”
