Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

pushed her plate away. The French doors stood on the other side of the archway, less than thirty feet away. Once she crossed into the garden’s narrow footpaths, the thick foliage would provide all the camouflage she needed to double back along the side of the house. The garage had to be out front, close to the driveway.
    The second she found it—and a car—she’d head for the city. Seattle would hide her. At least, for a little while. Long enough to figure out what to do, where to go…how to live so Bastian would never find her.
    She glanced at Daimler. “Thank you for the cake.”
    “Of course.”
    Her footwear clipped her heels, the flip-flop sounding loud in the silence as Myst slipped off her chair. Stepping away from the island, she gestured to the playpen, vise-like pressure squeezing around her heart. “Would you mind watching him for a while? I need some fresh air.”
    “Are you all right, my lady?” Daimler leaned toward her, concern on the planes of his elfish face. “I didn’t mean to—”
    “Myst!” The deep voice boomed, echoing like canon fire up the corridor.
    The thunderous crack made her jump. Her kneecap collided with the corner of the steel chair leg. With a curse, Myst rubbed her knee, but she was already moving. She knew that tone. Had worked too many shifts in the ER to not recognize the urgency…the frantic desperation of whoever was shouting.
    Something had gone wrong.
    Just as she rounded the counter, Venom sprinted into the kitchen. Putting the brakes on, he slid to a stop in front of her. “He needs you.”
    “Who?”
    “Bastian.” Breathing hard, he stared at her, the irises of his ruby-red eyes growing smoky and intense. “He’s injured. It’s bad. Will you come and—”
    “Where is he?”
    “Rikar’s bringing him.”
    “To the clinic?”
    “Yeah. They’re almost here, but you should know—”
    “Later.” Adrenaline hit Myst like jet fuel. Kicking off her flip-flips, she rocketed past Venom, entering the corridor at a dead run, her mind working in one direction. Bastian was hurt. He needed her. “Venom…move it! I need to set up triage. Show me how to get down there.”
    She heard the huge guy shift a second before she saw him. Moving like an organized hurricane, Venom hit his stride, long legs working overtime as he passed her in the double-wide hallway. Myst upped her pace, pumping her arms, bare feet keeping time with the thundering echoes of his footfalls.
    Rounding a corner, she skidded to a halt behind him. This couldn’t be right. There was nothing but wall-to-wall paneling, a dead end that—
    Fancy wainscoting retreated into the sidewall, revealing a set of shiny elevator doors. The stainless steel sliders opened. Venom stepped inside the steel box. Right behind him, Myst watched as he hit the down button with the side of his fist. Smooth and silent, the elevator descended, giving her a moment to breathe…and think.
    God, what had Daimler baked into that carrot cake? Drugs?
    Yeah, that would explain her dramatic about-face.
    Two minutes ago, she’d been scared senseless, ready to run, to leave Bastian behind forever. And now? She wished the elevator would hurry the hell up. She needed to get her hands on him and make sure he was all right.
    No doubt about it. She was officially AWOL, her priorities on the wrong side of the proverbial fence.

Chapter Twenty-two
    Standing behind the one-way glass, Angela watched Jennifer Lopez’s look-alike pace on the other side. Interrogation Room One could do that to a person. Cramped and stuffy, the dingy space felt more like a coffin than a room, but…
    That was the point.
    Interrogation 101…drive suspects crazy. Make them want to spill their guts before a single question got asked.
    So far, the tried and true seemed to be working. Her suspect was antsy. The problem? Angela didn’t know if Tania Solares deserved her stay in Homicide’s little patch of heaven. She should probably feel guilty about that…about putting the brunette in the hot seat and leaving her there to stew. And she would. Later. And only if she cleared Ms. Solares of any wrongdoing.
    But right now? She was a person of interest in a homicide investigation. One who’d called in sick, ignored the messages on her cell phone, and been in the wind all day.
    The behavior upped the voltage on Angela’s suspicion meter. What had Myst Munroe’s BFF been doing? Helping her friend get out of town?
    The kicker, though? The thing that