“Miss Bridges, would you like me to walk you to your car?”
I sighed. I should, but the idea making of idle small talk for the next hundred meters was too much. “It’s right there, Thomas. I can see it from here.”
Yes, there were some shadows along the way to the parking lot, but it was the palace parking lot. And there were a few other cars. Most of the staff hadn’t yet gone home for the night. “Look, I know Wilder wants you to do that, but it’s fine. You can watch me from here. You’ll see me on the security cameras anyway.”
“If you say so, ma’am.” I thought he’d fight me, but he didn’t. He was looking at something on his phone, so clearly he was already preoccupied. “Have a good night. I’ll see you later.”
“See you.”
The gate buzzed, and out I went, pausing momentarily to inhale the warm summer air. I loved the summer season, the scents of flowers in the air, the warm breezes, it was perfect.
I was excited that Kannon had chosen me to join the team in Alden. I could have stayed in Los Angeles, and it would have been great. I could have run that office on my own. But I felt like there was more opportunity here. Besides, on this side of the world, I’d be closer to my best friend, Onyx, who lived in the UK. While I enjoyed LA, it was really more about the people than anything. I reached my car, unlocked it, went to the trunk and slid in the files that I carried with me, then opened the driver’s side door.
Before I slid in, though, I heard a noise. It sounded like something scratching around on the other side of the car. Frowning, I peered around, but I couldn’t see anything. I’d parked two spaces away from an entry of some sort, but it wasn’t one of the lit corners. A shiver ran up my spine, and I suddenly regretted not having Thomas walk me to the car. But I merely scolded myself as I turned on the flashlight on my keychain. I walked around and spied the rustling silver wrapper of a bag of chips.
I went to pick it up, wondering who would dare litter in the royal parking lot. The voice behind me was a low menace from the shadows. “This is almost too easy.”
I felt, rather than saw, the arm coming overhead. Not even thinking, I dropped my keys and lifted my hands up over my head and blocked the shot. I planted my feet and lowered my body weight, shifted my shoulder back, and used his own momentum to flip him.
It was a lot of weight, but the move was guaranteed to work. Always.
Male. Maybe six feet. Just under two hundred pounds.
He rolled out of my grip and got to his feet quickly, hands up.
I opened my mouth to scream because it was not the time to be a solo badass. But before I could make a sound, he jabbed quickly. Pain exploded on my cheek, and the scream was caught in my throat as I staggered backward. Then he was on me, his hands on the back of my neck like a modified clamp. He attempted to knee me in the stomach, but I blocked him as I caught the underside of his knee then flipped him onto his back. He yowled as he slammed hard onto the ground.
Wasting no time, I drew from all my training and jumped on him, panting. I punched him, delivered hit after hit. My legs locked around his waist, and using all the energy I could muster, I delivered straight punches, hammer fists and elbows, refusing to let up. Luckily, my training helped me remember to question him. “Who sent you?”
His lips started to move, and then I saw them lift into a sneer. “Fuck. You.”
I tsked. “Oh, that’s pleasant.”
I lifted an elbow and dropped it right onto that tender spot on his shoulder joint. Quick, sharp, and he yowled again. I’d seen him telegraph his punches on that side and thought he must have some kind of injury.
I lifted his head up by the front of his hair. “Who sent you?”
I heard a sound behind me, and out of my periphery, I checked for a movement in the shadows, but there was nothing there. But in that one second of inattention, I gave my attacker the advantage. He lifted his hips, flipping me over onto my back until I landed on the hard pavement with a wince as the cold rock did a number on my muscles.
I put my hands up to block, anticipating a blow at any moment. When he didn’t immediately attack, I rolled over and pushed myself to my feet, jumping up. I watched as he yanked open the doorway to our right, wheezing in pain, and stumbled through to the dark alley beyond. From my left, I saw Thomas heading our way. “Miss Bridges, are you okay?”
I waved down at my feet, exhaustion hitting me as the adrenaline receded. “I’m okay, but I needed you to call the palace guard. Someone just attacked me.”
Thomas was on his walkie talkie before I even finished my request. And as I sank down onto the cold ground, no longer able to keep my body weight up, I scowled. Who the hell was that? And why the hell did he seem so familiar?
The last thing I was aware of before the darkness encroached on my vision was Wilder’s voice. “Sparrow. Jesus Christ, Sparrow. Thomas, why didn’t you walk her to the goddamn car?”
The guard stammered, “She told me she didn’t want me to.”
There was more talking, but their voices went in and out, and I couldn’t focus on them. One voice filtered in though, making me feel hot and prickly. “Jesus fucking Christ, what happened to her?”
“Breck, I need you to pull the security camera feed from the parking lot and the access doorway here. Scratch that, get me every view from the palace and the main road, got me?”
Breck said something else. And then, “God, is she hurt?”
There were fingers pressed to my wrist, and I struggled to hold on to consciousness. I opened my mouth to speak a strong, tired, “No. I’m fffnnn….”
I frowned. That didn’t sound like it made sense. I tried again. “Ssslung, ssstand up.”
I dragged my eyelids open, trying to look around me, and Wilder’s handsome face was in my direct line of sight. But it was close. Too close. I swung my gaze around and caught Breck’s gaze next. What was he doing here? I tried to push him away, but his hands were too strong.
“All right, help me lift her up.”
Then there were many hands and much more talking and voices. I had a sense of being moved. I wasn’t sure how long or what route we took, but I could only guess we were in the infirmary. When we stopped, I detected that antiseptic smell. And then I was laying on something soft and plush, and I could hear beeping, and people bustled around me, and there were sounds and smells of doctor things.
That was all I had total awareness of before I passed out.
When I came to, Wilder was there in the chair next to my bed. “Ah, there you are. You gave us all quite a scare.”
I groaned. When I tried to lift my head, it throbbed. “Ugh, what happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the palace infirmary. I had my personal doctor check you out. You had a bump on the head. No concussion though. You’ve sustained bruises and cuts but no real damage. You have some abrasions on your knuckles as well, likely from where you hit whoever attacked you.”
I frowned. He sounded annoyed. Why was he annoyed?
I licked my lips. So dry. “Why are you mad at me?” I had a father. His name was Steven, not Wilder.
“I remember giving you distinct instructions to have Thomas walk you to your car.”