I wrinkled my nose at the guys in confusion, then winced as it moved my bruises. Yeah, if she had something to help, then I was all for it.
"Come here, babe." Kody reached out his hand to me. When I took it, he pulled me—carefully—into his lap rather than onto the empty bar stool beside him. He kissed my slightly less-bruised cheek and gave me a light squeeze. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got beaten the hell up," I replied with a snort of laughter, "but actually a shitload better than I was. What time is it, anyway?" I had no idea where my phone was and hadn't even tried looking for it.
"Dinnertime," Steele told me, grinning wide as he cut the pizza up in Anna's absence. He had flour streaked over his face and an apron tied around his neck, so I had to assume he'd been assisting.
Anna came back in carrying a little purple tub of cream and instructed Kody to spread it all over my bruises. He did as he was told, smoothing the peppermint-scented cream over my face with gentle fingers.
"We might need to move to the couch to do the rest," I told him when he finished rubbing the bruise balm onto my puffy cheekbone. He followed me over to the sofa in the open plan living area off the kitchen, and I pulled my T-shirt up for him to access my ribs.
Kody's brow furrowed as he worked—carefully avoiding the area where my ribs were broken—and I knew it was out of concern for my injuries. When he was done, I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him hard.
"I'm fine, Kodiak," I whispered against his lips. "It's just bruising."
He kissed me back, but his brow was still tense and furrowed as he smoothed my T-shirt back down over my peppermint-scented skin.
"You shouldn't be getting hurt like this, babe," he murmured in a low voice. "What fucking use are we if we can't keep you safe?"
I got it. I did. I’d felt the same fucking way when Steele was shot. But self-pity never changed the past, and there was nothing to be gained by entertaining what-ifs. So I bopped him on the nose with my finger.
"Stop it."
His brows shot up in surprise. "Uh..."
"No, seriously, Kody. Stop it. What's done is done, and you know what? It actually worked out for the best. We killed Kruger. The hit on me was canceled. We got rid of Zane and his slimy little lieutenants. I feel a hell of a lot better with Cass in charge of the Reapers, don't you?"
A loud crash of breaking glass cut off whatever he might have replied, and Kody all but threw me down into the couch. He covered me almost completely with his body, blocking my view of whatever the fuck was going on.
Not that I needed to see.
"Gas!" Archer shouted, the alarm in his voice clear as day.
"Stay behind me," Kody ordered. He rolled off me and deftly caught a gun that Steele tossed him from the cutlery drawer. "Cover your mouth and nose," he added, coughing.
It wasn't hard to see what he meant. Several canisters of gas had been tossed through the smashed windows and were spurting thick plumes of chemical smoke into the room.
A moment later, four men clad entirely in black with full-face gasmasks climbed through those broken windows with guns drawn. More fool, them. They should have waited longer for the gas to do its trick because all four of them were dead before they’d even taken two steps into the kitchen.
"MK, get to the panic room!" Kody barked, covering his face with his T-shirt and holding his gun steady as he waited for more attackers to enter.
The gas was getting thicker, making my head swim and my vision blur, but I staggered in the direction of the foyer. I needed to get across the garage to the hidden panel.
"Here!" Anna shouted, tossing me a wet washcloth. She had one clasped to her own face and a heavy skillet in her other hand.
I followed suit, breathing through the wet fabric to filter the gas somewhat, then watched in shock as a gas-masked man appeared from the corridor and grabbed for Anna. She was ready for him, though, and smacked him so hard in the face with her skillet that blood splattered the wall as he collapsed.
"Fuck," I exclaimed as she smacked the man one more time before collapsing herself.
"Run, girl," she croaked at me, then dissolved into coughing as her eyes rolled back.
Tight fingers circled my upper arm, and I almost lashed out before recognizing Steele behind me. "Hurry," he told me in a strained voice. His face was deathly pale, his lips turning a weird shade of blue, but his eyes were determined.
I dragged a lungful of air through my washcloth and raced out into the foyer, leaving Kody and Archer shooting at people behind us. Fucking hell, how many attackers were coming for us? But more to the point, why? The hit had been canceled. Kruger was dead. What the fuck was even happening right now?
Steele ran with me through the marble foyer to the garage, but jerked me out of the way a fraction of a second before I passed through the doorway. Not a moment too soon, either. Two gasmask-wearing men came through the doorway, and Steele dropped the first one with a shot. Then his gun clicked empty. Thinking quick, he charged at the second man, shoving him back through the doorway, and slammed the door shut and locked it.
"Shit," he wheezed. With a panicked look, he pushed me in the direction of the stairs. "Other entrance," he ordered me. "Run, don't stop. They must have gassed the AC."
That was all he managed to tell me before several gunshots fired through the flimsy door and narrowly missed hitting him.
"Go!" he roared, ducking out of the way as the door burst open in a shower of splintering wood.
I stumbled, coughing, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins pushed me forward. Taking the stairs three at a time, I barely even breathed, not wanting to inhale the gas and succumb to unconsciousness. Shouts and gunfire echoed through the house below me, but I didn't look. Anyone who'd watched a slasher flick knew the second you looked, you'd trip, fall, and ultimately die a painful, gruesome death. No thanks.
The guys had said there was a panic room access point from the second linen closet; I just needed to get there without being caught. Or, fuck, was it the third linen closet? On the left or the right? Who the fuck had so many closets anyway?
Taking a gamble, I went with my first instinct and yanked the door open as my vision swirled dangerously. I needed to hurry the hell up, or I'd pass out.
Someone had to be smiling down on me, though, because it only took a few seconds to pop open the hidden panel and slip into the darkness of the narrow staircase. I descended so fast I practically tumbled the last few steps, then slammed my palm onto the biometric scanner.
The door slid open immediately, and I threw myself forward. My vision was almost entirely black and my limbs felt like they were moving through custard as I reached up and pressed the button to close the door.
It slid closed silently, but not before I saw a gasmask-wearing man storming down the tight corridor toward me.
"Too late, fucker," I croaked as the door sealed, cutting him off from me as securely as Fort fucking Knox.
There was a moment of dead silence, then a soft whirring started up and a cool breeze washed over my face from the vents near the floor. A spike of panic shot through me, but I quickly remembered the panic room operated on an independent AC unit from the main house. Thank fuck, too. I inhaled deeply, groaning as the clean air filled my lungs and cleared my head.