Nicolas swung her over his shoulder, needing both hands free. Her stomach was tender, and she was definitely moving in and out of consciousness. He anchored her with one hand and took off away from the area. He’d warned the men inside and he’d taken out a couple of the enemy for them, before spotting Dahlia in trouble. She was his first priority, his only priority now. He had a few bolt-holes of his own. And damn it, his heart was still pounding with fear for her. He had one shot, one chance to save her, and she’d been so close to her assailant.
He moved into the shadows, sliding through the night. When he encountered a late-night crowd, or the street cleaners, he went up and over the building. Before he left on this mission, Gator had shoved maps into his pocket to houses in the bayou Gator’s family owned, but rarely used. He used his powers unashamedly to keep people looking the other way as he took Dahlia out of the town.
He blamed himself for her pale, almost translucent face and the terrible toll the violence had taken on her body. He’d viewed the tapes from her childhood and teenage years. He knew what violence did to her, yet she seemed so self-assured, so confident, even “normal” as they moved through the Quarter to get to the condo, he’d managed to make himself believe she could take the continual assault of energy flowing around her.
Dahlia stirred, her fist clenching in the back of his shirt. “Put me down before I get sick down your back.” Her insides hurt, more from the punch than vomiting, but she wasn’t taking any chances with humiliating herself further.
Nicolas halted immediately and lowered her to the ground. They were near the river and the ground was uneven. He used it as an excuse to hold her when she was swaying slightly. “I’m sorry, Dahlia, I didn’t have a choice.”
“I know you didn’t. I could have handled him if I hadn’t been so sick. I just can’t be around anyone, Nicolas.” It had to be said. She didn’t have to like it. For a while she’d held out hope she could find a way to live with people, maybe somewhere near Lily where she could visit occasionally and have a friend to share things with. She hadn’t dared think of keeping Nicolas in her life. She couldn’t be around him and not have fantasies. .
Dahlia clung to him, his shirt bunched in her fingers. “I need to sit down. No one is chasing us, are they?” She didn’t feel anyone hunting them, but she was on overload and just couldn’t tell if they were in immediate danger.
Nicolas helped her walk to a bench. She sank down gratefully, putting her head between her knees to combat the dizziness and dragging in great gulps of air. “We have to go back.” She looked up at him. “We do, Nicolas. This may be the only chance we have to track them back to where they’re holding Jesse.” She raised her gaze to his. “We have to get him out. Those men are killers. I don’t want to think what he’s been going through all this time.”
Nicolas shook his head. “You aren’t in any shape to go rescue anyone, Dahlia. For all we know, he could be dead.”
“I have to know one way or the other. Please, Nicolas. I have to do this, and I don’t think I can do it alone.”
“Can you walk on your own?”
She listened for frustration. For impatience. She waited for the negative energy of his true feelings to swamp her, but he seemed as rock steady and as calm as ever. “Yes. I’m a little shaky, but I’ve been worse.” She forced a wan smile. “It always helps to pass out.”
“Let’s get moving then. We don’t have a lot of time to pick up their trail. It isn’t like I can carry a rifle through the streets of the French Quarter either. We’re both going to have to be fully alert.”
She watched as he broke down the gun with quick and efficient movements. She knew he was giving her a few more minutes to rest. When he was finished and the gun was safely stored in his pack, he handed her the canteen.