“We couldn’t get to him.” My words come out in a rush. “They’ve sealed off access to that sub-level and we couldn’t find another way in. Not without tipping off the guards and blowing our cover.”
“Shit.” Nitro rubs both hands over his head and climbs out of the van. “How could you screw this up? You promised this plan was airtight. Draven and Dante are going to kill us. You know that, right?”
Rebel whimpers, and I pat her back a couple times, shooting Nitro a warning glare.
“We couldn’t have known,” I argue.
He ignores me. “I knew it. I knew better than to trust a couple of heroes to handle something this important.”
“Is that really how you want to play this?” Jeremy comes to my side and stands over Nitro.
Jeremy may be lean, but he has almost a foot over the angry villain.
Nitro doesn’t look impressed. “I’m not playing anything. Just stating the truth, yeah?” His British accent is out in full force. “You wankers failed, didn’t you? You talked me into locking up my two best mates, and then you bloody well screwed up. A guy can’t be blamed for thinking maybe you did it on purpose.”
Rebel starts to sob harder, which makes me see red. I advance on Nitro. “Must be nice. Easy for you to stand there criticizing when you didn’t have a better plan. We risked everything tonight!”
“You think you’re the only ones?” he scoffs. “I’ve got two of the most dangerous villains in the bloody world locked in my refrigerator. You obviously don’t know what they’ve spent the last hour and a half threatening to do to me when they finally get out.”
Screw it. Dante and Draven already know about my immunity. What’s one more villain at this point, especially since he’s their best friend? They’ll probably tell him anyway, the first chance they get. “At least I found the secret sub-level! You couldn’t even do that.”
“Because of you!” He doesn’t look surprised that Draven’s brainwashing didn’t stick, which proves that Dante and Draven spilled the beans while we were gone.
Typical. Can’t trust villains, can’t trust heroes… Who the hell am I supposed to trust?
“You almost killed me with that fire extinguisher!”
“Yeah, well, almost doesn’t count. If it did, Rebel and I would have Deacon right now.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. You lousy hero-worshipper—”
“Hey!” Rebel finally pulls herself together and climbs out of the van. “Don’t call her that!”
“Or what?” Nitro glows a little, the air above his hands tinged green as he starts to lose his grip on his power. At least I assume he’s losing his grip—maybe he’s doing it on purpose. At this point, who can tell?
“Or I’ll make sure you regret it.” Jeremy’s joined the fray now, standing shoulder to shoulder with Rebel and me as he stares down Nitro.
“Yeah, right. ’Cuz I’m scared of a nerdy technopath.” Flames lick along Nitro’s fingers.
“You should be.” Jeremy takes a step forward and I know that if I don’t stop this right here, right now, the situation’s going to get out of control. Testosterone is such a pain in the ass.
But just as I slide myself between the two of them, the door to the club flies open and Draven and Deacon sail into the parking lot. They’re both bruised and bloody and more than a little frantic. When they see us, they do double takes, then race full tilt toward us.
“What the hell!” Dante roars.
“How did you get out?” Nitro demands. When they turn to glare at him, he shrinks back, half hiding behind Rebel.
Not that I blame him. I’ve seen Draven go from surly to tortured to furious in the short time I’ve known him, but never have I seen him this enraged. If his expression—and the way his bruised hands are trembling—is anything to go by, he’s about two seconds from ripping us to pieces.
All of us.
Draven doesn’t hesitate. He reaches past Rebel to grab the lapels of Nitro’s leather jacket and yanks him off his feet. “Let’s just say you and Quake are going to need a new fridge.”
“It’s not his fault,” I insist. “We asked him to help.”
“Bloody brilliant idea that was,” Nitro snaps.
I glare at him. Not helping.
I wrap my hands around Draven’s forearms and yank, as if I’m going to have any effect on him in this state.
To my utter amazement, he actually relaxes. He lowers Nitro to the ground.
“Where is my brother?” Dante peers into the van.
The silence is deafening—taut and terrible and terrifying. The next thing I know, Dante’s whirling, advancing on Jeremy and me with his hands curled into fists. “Where. Is. Deacon?”
“We couldn’t get to him!” Rebel says in a rush, throwing herself against his chest and starting to sob all over again.
His arms wrap around her, his hands stroking her back. But his back is ramrod straight and his face is dark. “What does that mean?” he demands. “Deacon’s still in that hellhole?”