Defender Hellhound (Protection, Inc: Defenders Book 3) by Zoe Chant

Author:Zoe Chant [Chant, Zoe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Something’s wrong.

Natalie sat bolt upright in bed, abruptly wide awake, filled with the knowledge that something terrible was happening.

Ransom’s in danger.

She didn’t know how she knew, but she was certain.

“Ransom?”

There was no answer. The motel room was dark, and she couldn’t see if he was in his bed. She flipped on the light. His bed was empty, but a line of light shone at the bottom of the closed bathroom door. Heidi was nowhere to be seen, but Wally was awake, his blue eyes fixed on the bathroom door. As she watched, he vanished.

She scrambled out of bed, ran to the bathroom door, and gave it a sharp knock. “Ransom?”

There was no reply. She tried the knob, but it was locked.

Wally reappeared at her side, followed by Heidi. Natalie’s growing alarm sharpened to fear when she saw a smear of blood on the white fur of Heidi’s muzzle. Natalie parted the fur, looking for the injury, but there was none. It wasn’t the puppy’s blood.

“Ransom!” She banged on the door with her fist. Nothing.

Heidi vanished again, while Wally began to whine and scratch at the door. He could easily get inside if he wanted to, so Natalie was sure he was trying to tell her where to go.

“I know.” She gave the door a shove, then a kick. It shook, but didn’t give way. Ransom was undoubtedly strong enough to kick it in, but it was too sturdy for her.

There was no keyhole, so she couldn’t use her lockpicks. She fetched a credit card instead, slid it into the crack, and began maneuvering it against the latch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wally vanish again. Inside the bathroom, she could hear the puppies whining and barking, but absolutely nothing else.

The precise and delicate work of opening the door was all in her fingers, leaving her mind free to spin out scenarios of what the hell was going on inside.

He’s having such a bad migraine that he can’t even speak. (Didn’t account for the blood.)

He tripped in the dark, hit his head, and knocked himself out. (Ransom, who moved like a panther, was about as unlikely to be unable to catch himself as Natalie herself. Also, the light was on.)

He overused his powers and passed out. (Why would he do that? Because she’d driven him to desperation with her disbelief?)

The latch popped back. Natalie yanked the door open.

There was blood everywhere. On his shirt, on his face, on the edge of the bathtub. He’d somehow wedged himself between the bathtub and the sink, with his long legs stretched out across the floor. His face was very pale, and his eyes were closed.

For a panicked instant, she had no idea where to even start. She couldn’t call 911, she didn’t know where the blood was coming from, she couldn’t tell if he was even breathing—

There. She’d start there. Natalie grabbed his pajama top by the collar and ripped it open. Little buttons flew everywhere. His muscular chest was slightly stained with blood, but there was no wound that she could see.

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