Eternal Nights by Patti O'Shea Read Free Book Online Page B

regain awareness, but his head didn’t feel any better this time. His thoughts, however, were clearer. Wherever he was, the ground was hard as hell. Without moving, he listened carefully, trying to pick up whether there was any threat present, but it was quiet.
    Good thing. He hadn’t felt this weak since he’d taken a bullet two years ago. His front side ached—probably because of what he was lying on, rather than any injury—and his head throbbed like mad. Everything else, though, seemed to be pain-free and in working order. Slowly, he brought a hand up to his skull, but he didn’t find any blood or other sign of trauma.
    Okay, now he needed to open his eyes and discover what was going on. Simple. But the thought of light made the pounding in his head increase in intensity. Come on, Marsh, he told himself, gotta check out what’s happening. Barely suppressing a groan, he forced his eyelids apart. It was pitch black, and he couldn’t see a damn thing. Where in the hell was he?
    Again he listened, and again he heard nothing that concerned him. As he breathed deeply, trying to work up some interest in moving, he detected the faintest hint of some spicy, sexy scent. Bug, he thought, his lips curving.
    Bug!
    Memory came back in a merciless wave and he pushed himself from his belly to a sitting position. The pain reached a crescendo, as if rockets were being launched inside his brain, but he ignored it. It was Bug who was important. “Kendall?” His voice came out thick, raspy, almost unrecognizable and close to inaudible. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Kendall?”
    No response.
    Damn it, he needed some lights!
    Lights. The pyramid had to have the same system of illumination as the other buildings, right? The pounding in his head slowed him down, but at last, he managed to raise a soft glow.
    Frantically, he scanned the room. He saw her bag in the middle of the floor and figured they’d tossed it in here to prevent anyone from finding it. His gaze kept moving until he spotted Bug’s procumbent form. Wyatt ran his eyes over her, searching for some sign of injury, but she appeared unharmed. A second, longer look showed her arm was extended toward him and that made his heart stutter. Maybe that was how she’d fallen after taking a blast from the popper, but he wanted to think it was significant. Particularly after the way she’d ardently expressed her belief in him.
    When he’d heard that lie about detaining her, he’d expected Bug to think the worst—and it had looked bad, even he could see that—but she hadn’t bought that bullshit for an instant. Hell, he still felt heat warm the center of his chest when he thought about how she’d jumped in to declare her faith in his integrity.
    He moved next to her and pushed her long brown hair off her face. The small frown between her brows made him smile. That was his Bug, ferocious even while unconscious.
    “Come on, Kendall, you need to wake up.”
    She didn’t so much as twitch. Okay, she was smaller than he was—if she’d been hit with the same amount of drug, she would be out longer. But he wanted her eyes open, wanted to see she was for sure all right. If anything happened to Kendall, he’d kill each one of those sons of bitches and he’d do it real slow.
    Carefully, tenderly, Wyatt moved her so she’d be more comfortable. He held her on his lap because that made him feel more comfortable. Her soft breath puffed against his throat and he swallowed hard. “Damn, darlin’, you don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you?” Moving slowly, he cuddled her against his chest. “Probably a good thing,” he continued softly. “You’d run so hard and so fast, I might not be able to catch you.”
    Leaning forward, he shifted her in order to press his lips to her forehead. Wyatt watched her face, waiting for her to wake, and stroked her hair. He knew she hated her wholesome look. How many times had he heard her complain about her girl-next-door