Chapter 22

A Funny Feeling

JORDANO PARRA WAS LIKEa ghost. When they thought they had a promising lead, it turned to vapor. He was also smart, eluding the joint investigative powers of Rossi LA, half the investigators in San Antonio, and the LAPD. The feds were also called in because of the identity theft, bank fraud, and a list of crimes longer than her arm that crossed state lines.

Another week passed, and another without a break in the case. They hadn't even had a sighting—not once since the night she'd witnessed the bloody stabbing in the garage. They suspected with the discovery of his first victims all over the news, he'd gone deeper into hiding. Val, who had really missed her calling and should have been an FBI profiler, suggested, "Or it has released his demons and all hell is about to break loose."

Noah had arranged for an indefinite leave for her from work. It was unpaid, since she hadn't been there even a year yet. But he was covering her expenses and dared her to say another word about it. She'd given up her apartment, never wanting to set foot inside it again, even after fresh paint erased the foul words on the wall.

Without work or the club to look forward to, and not allowed out to even the grocery store, it left her with hours to fill every day and not a lot to fill them with. Noah was with her every evening and through the night, but she saw less and less of him during the day. He relied on one of his Rossi team members to stand guard while he assisted with the investigation.

Val and Esme came to visit, but they worked during the day when she needed distractions the most. And she chatted with Lexie more often, at least weekly, when her new baby boy was napping. She'd become well acquainted with several of the guys, Kai, Jerry, and Tristan, and her favorite, maybe because he'd been the first to welcome her into their close-knit society, Axyl.

It was Axyl's turn today. He arrived at seven, earlier than their day usually started, because Noah had surgery scheduled for 8 a.m.—the first case of the day.

Fiona reclined on all four of the pillows, hers and his, as she watched him get ready. When it was time to leave, he came to her and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Come here," he insisted. Too impatient to wait until she scooted from the middle of the king-sized bed closer to him, he grabbed her ankles and pulled her flat, then leaned over her with his hands buried in the plush pillow-top mattress on either side of her head.

When he leaned down to kiss her, Fiona's heart raced. It happened every time she was close to him, but this morning for another reason. He didn't want to leave her; she could tell from his lingering goodbye. And from the look in his eyes, which seemed conflicted, when he pulled away.

Troubled now, too, she laid her hand against his bearded jaw and asked, "What is it?"

"I don't know. A funny feeling, I guess. Be extra cautious today and do everything Axyl tells you to do."

She traced his lips with her fingers then raised up to kiss him this time. "It's a rainy day. Perfect for sleeping. I'll probably still be in bed when you get back."

"Doubtful. It's a six-hour procedure."

"Then I'll give you a massage and after, we'll crawl into bed together."

"Deal," he whispered softly, echoing her response to an offer she couldn't refuse in the Sultan's Chamber, although not with the same intensity or volume. And the smile on his lips didn't come close to reaching his eyes.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "They wouldn't have called you in if they didn't need your skills." It was a special procedure none of the partners had done but him. "A child needs you, Dr. Richmond. Go change his life for the better."

He kissed her again, lingering longer than he should have, causing him to rush out or be late.

She stared at the space she'd last seen him, hearing the outer door close with a thud behind him with a finality that left her feeling very much alone.

But she wasn't. She could smell coffee brewing. Axyl was here to protect her.

Still dark out, and way too early to get up when she had a wide-open schedule, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

She got up just before noon, made herself scrambled eggs and him a chicken salad sandwich.Axyl wasn't nearly as talkative when in protector mode. She barely got two words out of him. He checked the security feeds on his phone then made rounds at all the windows. Then rinse and repeat, ad nauseam.

Giving tours to newbie subs at a BDSM club was fun stuff. This was business, which he obviously took seriously. It was a good thing for her, the hunted client, but it made time drag by endlessly.

Fiona sat in Noah's big comfy chair in his office, trying to focus on her book, a dry political biography she thought would be more interesting than the medical references and war historicals on his shelves.

With a sigh, she closed it, and stared at his bookcases—two of them, both packed to the gills with hardcovers and paperbacks. "And not a mystery or spicy romance among them—what a waste."

The high-pitched wail of an alarm startled her so much she jolted out of her chair. She must have thrown her book because it landed with a thud on the floor across the room, which also jarred her.

When Axyl strode quickly past her door, Fiona jumped up and trailed after him. "Is that a fire alarm?"

"It sounds like it," he replied on his way to the front door.

He laid his hand flat on the panel and tested the knob.

"Are they hot?"

Before he answered, an eerie silence encompassed the apartment. The wailing alarm went quiet, and the AC and appliances weren't humming.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"The power is out." He pulled his phone out and swore beneath his breath. "I've got no signal. Check yours."

She had to run back to the office to get it. When she returned, she shook her head. "Would the loss of power affect cell data? Because that's out too."

"Doubtful," was his grim response.

"Wait. Noah has a landline phone in the kitchen." She hurried that way and lifted the receiver from the wall mounted cradle—it was that old, not even a cordless—but she heard nothing.

"We should probably evacuate," she said to his back, watching him at the door, testing it again.

Glancing over his shoulder, he made eye contact with her, his intense stare leaving no doubt there would be consequences for noncompliance, as he sternly instructed, "Do not move from that spot."

She would have rolled her eyes at his bossiness if she wasn't afraid this was an actual emergency and not a drill.

As soon as he cracked the door, dense smoke billowed into the room. It burned her eyes and nose, and her throat constricted, as if an invisible hand tightened its grip.

"We don't have a choice," Axyl stated, his voice laced with frustration, clearly unhappy with the situation.

With her wrist securely held in his hand, he led her out. He immediately crouched, directing, "Smoke rises. Stay low," as he towed her toward the stairs at the end of the hall.

Other residents flooded the stairwell, carrying and dropping belongings they should have left behind. People and debris clogged their escape route along with the increasingly thick smoke, further slowing things down.

"Leave everything and go!" Axyl boomed, the authority in his voice getting immediate cooperation.

Amid the panic and chaos, a woman behind them cried out. Fiona glanced back and saw her collapsed on the third-floor landing, overcome by the smoke.

"Wait," Fiona exclaimed, twisting to go back. "We have to help her."

Axyl tugged on her hand and stated firmly, "We'll send someone back for her. Right now, you are my priority."

"But that might be too late. We can't just leave her!" Determined, she jerked her hand out of his and raced up the steps.

"Dammit, Fiona," she heard him bite out, but the sound of his heavy tread on the stairs told her he followed.

Her colorful bathrobe, bright turban, and pink fuzzy slippers made the unconscious woman easy to find in the dark-gray smoke. Fiona checked her breathing while she felt for the pulse in her wrist. Both were normal.

"She's unconscious." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Can you carry her? I don't think I can."

Axyl dropped to one knee and scooped her up. "You're stuck to me like glue," he commanded, in an inflexible tone, unhappy with her as much as their situation.

"Of course," she agreed. As she rose along with him, a coil of bright-orange hair fell out from under the woman's turban. She'd only seen that gaudy color on a human once before. On Naomi.

"Axyl!" she screamed in warning. He turned to her rather than taking the stairs, and she soon realized her mistake. A shadowy figure emerged from behind him and struck the back of his head—hard. She couldn't see what with, but Fiona watched in horror as he crumpled, taking Naomi with him.

Suddenly awake when she hit the floor, she scrambled to her feet, surprisingly spry for someone suffering from smoke inhalation.

"You walloped him too hard," she accused Axyl's attacker. Although a respirator obscured his face, she recognized him. Fiona backed away as Naomi went on protesting. "You never said anything about aggravated assault. I'm outta here," she declared as she fled down the stairs.

Her heart pounding, lungs burning with each wheeze, Fiona wanted desperately to follow, to save herself and get help for Axyl. But with the rapidly increasing smoke and diminished oxygen, she wavered on unsteady legs, each breath a struggle.

When she fell to her knees, she heard laughter, the same that haunted her nightmares.

"Jor-dan," she gasped, her body trembling with fear and exhaustion from simply trying to breathe. It was all she could manage before her strength gave way and she collapsed in a limp heap on top of Axyl's motionless form.