Ames’s body stretched over hers, his teeth pulled into a feral snarl. His gaze looked maddened, his pupils so tiny, she wondered what he’d taken. With both hands still wrapped around his, she shoved her chest at him, wriggled like an eel, and finally got one thigh between his and arched hard, lifting him just enough to get her knee up and connect hard with his balls.
He grunted, lifted his free hand back, and slammed her jaw.
Pain exploded, but she shook it off. The knife…the knife was what she had to watch. She kept her hands glued around his wrist, but he was pushing it down, aiming at her neck, and she was weakening. Two hundred pounds of muscled menace was just too much.
And then she felt something inside her shift…another rush of adrenaline? Something lent her body strength, and she bucked beneath him, the heels of her boots digging into the concrete. A long, deep growl squeezed between tight lips and slowly, she forced him over, onto his back. Again, she straddled him and slammed his hand against the floor, trying to loosen his grip on the shank.
In the distance, she heard the bellows of officers closing in, booted feet thudding on the metal steps, and then she was lifted, tossed to the side while three officers piled on top of Ames and, at last, subdued him.
She scrambled toward McPhee who lay with his shoulders propped against the wall, his hand holding his side.
“Dammit, why’d you do that?” she whispered fiercely, taking over for him, pressing her own hands against the wound to slow the bleeding.
The tips of his wrinkled lips curved upward in a weak smile. “If I hadn’t, loverboy woulda kicked my ass.”
Tears pricked her eyes, but she leaned toward him and pressed a kiss against his forehead, not caring at this point what anyone might think. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Hedron wasn’t lying. We don’t let shit like that happen here.”
She nodded, giving him a tight smile, and then looked around. Vlahos stood with his back to the commotion, his hands pressed against the back wall of the cell. The officers had cuffed Ames and were dragging him off the ground, not being too careful about how many times his head and body hit the wall and bars as they pulled him out of the cell.
As soon he was clear, more officers poured inside. They surrounded her, hands sliding under hers and pulling her to the cot on the opposite side where they sat her down. The lieutenant knelt beside her. “You hurt?” he asked, his gaze scanning the blood covering her hands.
“I’m fine. It’s not mine.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I wish the fuck I knew.”
* * *
Fury tightened every muscle in Billy’s shoulders and arms as he made his way at last to the barracks. He’d had to sit out the attack in the tower, listening while all hell broke loose and imagining every scenario under the sun happening too far away from him to do a damn thing. He knew McPhee had taken the shank for Gillian. He owed him big time. He also knew Gabriel had to be pissed that things hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d planned. Too fucking bad.
Gabriel was going to be more than a little angry when this was all over. Billy was going to kick his ass all the way back to hell for putting his women through all this.
But Gabriel wasn’t where his head was at right now. He had to get to her, see that she was all right. When his relief had come, he’d been told the LT had her working on a report, and that she’d been given the control booth for the rest of the night.
Small mercy she wouldn’t be back out on the floor. And if she was still on shift, it meant she hadn’t been hurt all that bad. But he’d know soon about every bruise, every cut if he had to strip her down in the ladies’ room, because he knew she wouldn’t let anyone know how bad it had been.
He found her staring dully through the glass at the empty barracks floor. All the cells were locked up tight until breakfast. She clutched a cup of coffee between her hands, but it was full and it looked as though she’d forgotten it.
Billy knelt beside her. “Baby,” he whispered. “Are you okay? I heard.”
She nodded without looking up at him, but he saw her blink her eyes. Because he knew her pride would make her hate herself if she cried, he stood, turned his back to the floor and edged his leg close enough to rub up against her thigh,
One hand slipped from her cup, and she reached under the console to slide her hand around the back of his knee. She leaned against him, an action imperceptible to an observer.
He dropped his hand and rested it on her shoulder, giving her the gentlest of squeezes.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said softly, her voice sounding hoarse.
“I won’t press. But I will know how bad you were hurt.”
She glanced up, a little smile tugging at her lips. “You’ll have to wait and see me naked.”
“Plan on it.”
Her smile faded. “I was scared out of my mind. Thought it was happening again.”