“It’s my job, and I’m good at it.” She glanced down, made the picture brighter, and sighed. “We have a redhead in the morgue.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, Bear. We actually have her head but haven’t recovered the body yet. It’s definitely her.”
Bear growled, losing every inch of his teasing persona and showing the predator he usually kept veiled. “Where was her head discovered?”
“It was found in a garbage can outside of a restaurant on the north side. All the way across the city from the bar where she and Logan disappeared.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Time of death?” Bear asked.
“We don’t know yet.” Alexandra handed back the phone and holstered her weapon.
Bear rubbed rain from his face. “Was her head ripped off or cut off?”
“Cut off with a blade. Surgical precision and immortal strength,” Alexandra returned, all business. But sadness glimmered in her eyes, and once again, Daire could see what had taken his brother to his knees. The woman was tough and sweet, and Kell hadn’t stood a chance.
Bear half turned toward Daire. “Tasha was one of mine, Daire. Not a warrior, not a soldier, but a nice kid who probably was just hooking up with Garrett for fun. She didn’t deserve to die, and she doesn’t have any other family to avenge her death. If you know who did this, I want in.”
“I know who did this,” Daire said. The phone buzzed, and Sam’s face came up on the screen. “Sam?” he asked.
Sam coughed hard. “We, ah, were attacked.” He erupted in a fit of more coughing. “Smoke and drugs,” he gasped.
Daire gripped the phone. “Felicity?”
“She was taken.”
Chapter 28
Felicity coughed herself awake and sat up in a cushioned bed. Her lungs ached and her head swam. Whatever they’d pumped into her veins had taken hold and lasted far too long. Her mouth tasted like she’d eaten coal, and no saliva wet her tongue.
She tried to focus, but her head lolled on her neck.
A glass of water near the bed caught her eye. She reached for it, her fingers fumbling and almost knocking it over.
God, she needed that water.
Lowering her chin, she reached out with both trembling hands and encircled the glass. Slowly, she raised it to her mouth and tipped it back to drink. The second the liquid touched her lips, she lost all control.
Water cascaded down her throat, over her mouth, and across her chin.
She didn’t care.
The second it landed in her stomach, she groaned. Okay. Better. Much better.
She set down the glass and wiped her chin, allowing her eyes to focus in the dim light. Her head throbbed and her muscles felt lax. She glanced down. Silk bedspread, plush pillows. Fear sizzled through her until she’d patted her arms and looked at her yoga-pants-covered legs.
Okay. Good. She might be in a bed, but her clothing had remained on. Except for her socks. Her feet were bare.
Silence surrounded her, deep and pounding. No outside sounds at all penetrated the walls.
A dim light glowed from the bed table, and she kicked free, trying to stand. Her knees wobbled, and she had to hold on to the bed for several precious moments, trying to regain her strength. Finally, she could stand without falling.
A door took up the center of a far wall, so she shuffled across plush carpet to reach for the doorknob. The golden knob didn’t even turn. Swallowing, she reached for the light switch on the wall and flicked it up.
The light slashed pain through her skull, and she winced, closing her eyes. She took in several deep breaths and exhaled, trying to calm her galloping heart. She opened her eyelids enough to let a little light inside. Then, taking her time, she slowly opened them all the way. A deep purple carpet covered the floor and matched the bedding. A feminine dresser and end tables were set in the room. Two doorways led to a walk-in closet and fully appointed bath, also in purple.
An original oil painting by Juno Dungs above the bed added more vibrancy to the already colorful room. The walls had been painted a muted beige.
She quickly scoured through the dressers and only found lingerie, yoga pants, and some jeans. More clothes, probably in her size, filled the closet.