Tiger Bound Page 11

  “Hit him again,” someone commanded.

  “Damn it, I’m out,” another said.

  “I got one more.”

  With his last bit of strength, Heath surged upward and caught the man loading his gun beneath the chin. Pain exploded in his head, but somehow, it was enough to clear his mind. The human fell backward, and his gun went flying one way, the dart another. Several dove after it at the same time Heath did, but even without the tiger, he was faster. He snatched up the gun and used it to render the last three men unconscious.

  The nerd tried sneaking off in the opposite direction, but Heath grabbed his arm and all but dragged him down the hall. “No more delays,” he snapped. “Get this door unlocked now!”

  In seconds, the door swung open, and his beautiful Deja tumbled into his arms. Heath crushed her in his embrace and kissed her head. He thrust her hair back to examine her face. Lids heavy and her soft cocoa skin too hot, she didn’t look well. He sank to the floor with her and took in the rest of her body to be sure they hadn’t done anything else. Bruises covered her arms, along with scabs from small pinpricks. He cried out in rage. They all deserved to die, every one of them.

  In his mouth, he felt his teeth sharpen and the canines extend past his lips on the top and bottom. The words he’d spoken a moment ago became roars as he turned his hatred on the human. Heath was just about to put Deja aside so he could kill the man, but she grasped his wrist.

  “Heath.”

  He tugged away from her and advanced on the man. Bones cracked along his legs with each step he took. He curled forward and opened his mouth to bare his teeth. The man scrambled backward, sobbing. “I helped you. I helped you! You said if I did you wouldn’t kill me.”

  More bones fractured inside Heath as if he they had to break down before they reformed into the tiger. He had no idea if it hurt. He was beyond pain—except the anguish of what they had done to Deja.

  Almost on the man, Heath breathed in his terror, and it spurred him on. He roared, and the man cried out, putting hands to his ears. Deja whimpered behind him, the only thing that gave him pause.

  “Heath, I’m cold,” she whispered.

  He returned to her side in an instant and raised her in his arms. They’d taken her clothes to leave her vulnerable. A shirt dropped in front of him, and he looked up to find the nerd had removed his. Heath put it on her and buttoned it with the quick, nimble movements of his human side. The tiger lay dormant again.

  “I’ll lead you out.”

  Heath didn’t bother questioning the human about why he would help when Heath had just been about to rip him apart. He couldn’t afford to delay any longer. Deja needed help, and she needed it fast. Her breathing had gone shallow, and she’d passed out. He had to get her to safety now, and he would—or die trying.

  Chapter Eleven

  Heath leaned inside the vehicle, the right side of which he’d just scraped clean of paint when he pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. He unbuckled Deja’s seatbelt and checked her pulse. At first, he thought she didn’t have one, but at last he found it, and she drew in breaths so shallow her chest didn’t rise by much.

  “Do you want me to help carry her?” the small man asked.

  Heath flicked his gaze toward him, and the man shrank away.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he told him. “You should disappear, because they will find you and kill you.” Heath didn’t know why he’d come all this way, but the man had helped guide him through the facility to the parking lot where they retrieved the man’s car. “Thank you for your help.”

  Heath turned his back on the man with Deja in his arms, and he rushed into the emergency room. People milled around waiting for their names to be called. Hospital staff scurried about or worked with lethargy behind a desk.

  “Someone help her,” he demanded.

  All eyes shifted to him and Deja, and he could imagine the thoughts flying through their heads. Deja in a shirt and nothing else, and him in ragged jeans, bare-chested, and barefoot. There hadn’t been time to find clothes or shoes.

  For a moment, no one moved. “Please,” he barked.

  A nurse ran over to them. “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

  “She’s not breathing much, and a few times over here, she seized. I can’t get her to wake up.” His voice cracked on the last part, and he cleared his throat.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Deja.”

  “Deja, honey, can you hear me?” The nurse took her vitals and talked to Deja while two others brought out a gurney to place her on. Heath followed close on their heels as they wheeled her toward two wide doors. One of the men guiding the bed slapped a palm on a button, and the doors swung open. They continued on until the staff pushed Deja into a smaller room. “Sir, you’ll have to wait outside.”

  “I need to know she’ll be okay.”

  “The doctor has to examine her. Why don’t you get the paperwork completed while you wait?” She didn’t pause for his response, but shut the door in his face. Heath paced, running hands through his hair. How the hell could he concentrate on paperwork when all he could think about was Deja?

  He stalked up and down the hall like a caged animal and clenched his hands into fists when he thought of it. He was an animal, and Deja being ill was his fault. Guilt sat like a knot between his shoulders and a weight on his head. He should have made sure she didn’t follow him. He should have spoken with the authorities rather than barge into the facility once he had sniffed out the exact location of the secret entrance.

  Images of the people he killed down there raced through his mind. He’d never done anything like that in his life. He never needed to. Yet, he hadn’t thought twice. He’d killed on instinct to protect himself and Deja. He might go to prison, but as long as Deja was okay, he would accept his punishment. Best thing for him to do now would be to call the police and have them go out there and arrest that doctor. They needed to know how Spiderweb experimented on people.

  He snagged a staff member and inquired about clothes and shoes first. When she took him to the lost and found department, he “claimed” a shirt that looked like it would fit and grabbed some things for Deja when she was out of the woods. The shoes weren’t so easy to match, but he made do for the two of them.

  “Are you sure that’s everything?” the woman who helped him asked with a smirk. He glared at her.

  “You think we’re in here because we were somewhere fucking, she got sick, and we had to leave our clothes behind?”

  The woman’s face reddened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…”

  “I need to make a phone call. Can you help me with that?”

  She stiffened. “Sure, right this way.”

  Heath had no time to charm or plead. He wanted to get back to Deja and assure himself with his own eyes that she was fine. After making the call, he waited near the nurse’s station for the police to arrive. They came with promptness, and he went into detail about their experience—leaving out the part where he snapped necks, of course. They could discover that bit of information on their own.

  “Why don’t we discuss this at the station?” one of the officers suggested.

  Heath studied the two men, both tall and well-built. They carried themselves like officers, and they wore the clothing. Without question, the guns strapped to their hips were real, but he didn’t like the disbelief in their gazes or the sense that they thought he was a psycho.

  “I’m not leaving this hospital until I know Deja is okay,” he said. “You can wait around here with me, or you can go check out the place I just told you about. Logan City.”

  “We’re familiar with the area.” The cop took notes as he spoke. “Your friend will be fine. She’s in good hands with the doctors here. How about you go with us to check out Logan City?”

  Heath sneered and blew air through his nose in an effort to remain calm. “I told you, I am not leaving Deja. Period. I can see you don’t believe me, and at this point, I don
’t give a fuck if you do or don’t. I’m not going without first knowing she’s okay. If you don’t think I brought a woman in here deathly ill, walk over there to the nurses and ask them yourself. Hell, ask the patients waiting to be called. Do whatever you want.” He pointed toward Deja’s room. “I see her smiling at me and breathing normally, we will—”

  He stopped speaking when he noticed the man enter Deja’s room, someone not in scrubs. The furtive glance behind him as he went was not a figment of Heath’s imagination. He took a step in that direction, and one of the policemen put a hand out to stop him. Heath shook it off and started forward again, but this time, the man jerked him back. On reflex, Heath clocked him, and the cop went down like a stone. The other policeman fumbled for his gun, but Heath grabbed his wrist and punched him in the jaw. He too went down. Nurses and other staff around him screamed. He had no doubt they called for security, and more police would come. Now he’d done it. No way he could avoid jail time having assaulted the two officers.

  He ran down the hall toward Deja’s room and yanked the door open. A man stood over her bed and held a syringe as if he intended to inject its contents into her IV. Heath charged across the floor and hit him hard, sending him crashing into the wall. A small table overturned, spilling its contents over the floor.

  Heath examined Deja’s arm. The bastard had gotten the tip of the needle in, but hadn’t injected her. “I’m sorry, baby. We’ve got to go.” He snatched the IV out of her arm, along with the tape and bandage holding it in place. Deja whimpered, but beyond that, she didn’t stir. When the policemen had tried to stop him, he’d dropped the clothes he gathered for her, so he wrapped her in sheets from the bed and picked her up. They would need to get to somewhere safe so she could rest while he figured out how to help her.

  The emergency room exit was cut off when he spotted the police vehicles speeding into the lot. Heath took another hall farther into the hospital. He turned down corridor after corridor, getting curious glances all the way because he carried Deja. When he ducked into a room and found an empty chapel, he laid her down and whispered in her ear. “I’ll be right back, baby. Hold on.”

  He checked the hall before he slipped into it. They would be on him soon because cameras monitored the halls. He just needed a few moments to find Deja some clothes. Any would do, and it wasn’t likely he would find his way back to the lost and found section before they found him or her. That could not happen, and if he had to, he’d fight his way out.

  Thinking about fighting, he recalled how the beast had come over him. He never wanted to feel that much anger and wildness again. As if his humanity slipped away, he was almost all animal. He’d even referred to everyone else as “humans,” as if he wasn’t of that species. If he hadn’t fought to keep a rational mind, he had no doubt he would have transformed into the tiger. Then he had no way of knowing if he would have killed Deja along with everyone else around him. Giving in to the thing lurking inside would not happen again.

  At the end of the second hall, he found a row of doors and chose one at random. Running feet echoed in the distance, and he swore as he ducked into the room. He scanned his surroundings and discovered lockers. Maybe luck was on his side. He checked every compartment without a lock. All were empty. “Maybe not.”

  The footsteps came closer. His heart pounded, and moisture beaded at his temples. A growl started in his throat, but he fought it down. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had a headache in at least twenty-four hours. In fact, physically, he’d never felt better aside from tiredness. Had the medicine he’d been taking caused the headaches as a side effect, or did suppressing his animal cause it? He had no visions either and no dreams, but then he hadn’t slept in a few days. He needed rest, and Deja did as well. The sooner they vacated this place, the better. He didn’t like leaving her by herself. If she started getting bad again… He stopped in front of a locker with a combination lock on it. He was strong, but he hadn’t been able to force the door at the lab. If he tried it now, would he give into the tiger? He had no choice.

  Taking a deep breath, he twisted the lock as hard as he could. The steel didn’t budge. He swore. A click behind him made him spin around and face the door. A man stepped inside, but when Heath noticed the scrubs, he sighed in relief. The man’s startled gaze darted to Heath’s.

  “I assume they’re looking for you?” he said.

  Heath took a step forward. “You can help me or—”

  “Whoa, easy, fella. I don’t care what you’re up to. I just pulled a double shift for the third time this week. I’m tired, and I finally have some time off. I’d prefer that time not be permanent. Got me?”

  Heath glared at him, gauging whether he could trust the guy. “I need clothes for a woman, small like this.” He held up his hands and demonstrated Deja’s hip size, as if that would help.

  Despite his obvious nervousness, the man chuckled. “Okay, my ex-girlfriend works here. I probably still know her combination, and she keeps extra clothes in her locker. Can I get them?”

  “Make it fast,” Heath snapped.

  In moments, he held clothes for Deja along with sneakers. He thanked the man and left on the run. Deja was just where he’d left her, but she had managed to sit up. Her wan smile both encouraged and worried him as her eyes didn’t focus on him. Heath squatted before her and stroked her face. “Hey, baby, I have clothes for you. We can to get out of here and find somewhere safe. I need you to walk when we leave. It will cause less of a stir. Can you do that for me?”

  She nodded, but she didn’t speak, and his chest constricted. He stripped the sheet off her along with the gown the nurses had dressed her in, and with quick, jerky movements, he got her dressed and shoes on her feet. The clothes must have helped warm her, because she shivered less. He took it as a good sign.

  With his arm around her waist, Heath guided Deja into the hall. Their slow progress had him gritting his teeth, but he kept them moving forward. At the end of the hall, he picked up a scent of exhaust fumes and knew they neared an exit. Leave it to his other side to kick in when he least expected it. Heath came to the end of another passage and took in the sliding doors leading outside and the parking lot beyond. Several feet after that was the street. He guessed this was a side or back entrance to the hospital, but between him and Deja and freedom stood several policeman and a couple security guards. He couldn’t fight them and keep Deja safe at the same time. Besides, catching two policemen off guard was not the same as a whole group on alert and him not knowing if he could gain the advantage with his tiger.

  He turned to Deja. “Stay here, baby. Just a little longer.”

  She caught his arm before he could walk away, and Heath looked into her troubled brown eyes. He hated himself for putting her in this position. She had a good life, if simple, in Oklahoma. He would get her back to it if it killed him.

  Her fingers curled into his sleeve, and her eyes narrowed with a look of determination. “I’m not a weak damsel in distress. I’m going to help you.”

  “Deja, you’re shaking, and you can barely stand,” he protested.

  “Then get me a wheelchair.”

  For a moment, he didn’t move, and then he went to do her bidding. She dropped into the seat when he rolled it up, her breathing shallow. Heath tucked her feet on the pedals and unlocked the wheels after he had her settled. Deja’s temporary bravado dissipated as fast as it surfaced, and she slumped. At least the wheelchair was a good idea. He could move her faster while not restricting himself completely. Now or never, they had to move.

  He pushed the wheelchair around the corner and aimed for the exit without stopping. “Hold it right there,” one of the policemen said. Heath didn’t even slow down. He barreled toward the men blocking the entrance and watched their hands rise as if in slow motion toward the guns on their hips. Another few feet and he and Deja would be positioned in the center of the men, surrounded. Would they shoot, risking Deja when her illness was obvious? He couldn’t take the chance that they wou
ld, so he came to a stop.

  One of the policemen, with his hand poised over his holstered weapon, took a step forward. The rumble of a growl rose in Heath’s throat. Damn it, not now. If he changed, they would see and shoot him in fear. That would risk Deja. Anger and the protective instinct rose in him no matter how hard he tried to maintain control. He clamped his jaw tight, feeling the gums expand to allow his canines to grow. He ducked his head low, hoping no one caught sight of them. In the wheelchair, Deja whimpered, and the pitiful, pain-filled sound spurred him on.

  Muscles in his legs contracted for leaping onto the man closest to him, but before he could move, the doors leading to the street slid open, and several men and a woman strolled in. The woman lead, sashaying and swinging her arms dramatically while talking loud. “No, they’re going to let me see him because he’s my brother, and I have rights too.” As if she didn’t see the policeman standing in front of Heath, she crashed into him, knocking him off balance. The officer, irritated with her, righted himself with a jerk of his arm and shifting his shoulder. His move forced the woman back until she teetered on her high heels and squealed like someone attacked her. The men with her rushed up to her side.

  “Hey, man, who the hell do you think you are pushing on my sister? She didn’t do nothing wrong. It was an honest mistake.”

  “You’re impeding—” the officer began, but the group shouted over him.

  Heath took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip Deja’s wheelchair around them and push it out the door. A shout for them to stop rose up from behind, but Heath quickened his step. In the drive, a van pulled up, and when the driver stepped out, Heath captured Deja around her waist and tossed her into the vehicle. He followed, slammed the door, and stepped on the gas. They were out of the drive and onto the street in a matter of seconds. Weaving in and out of traffic, he sped along the road and took the next corner, ignoring the red signal. A police siren started up somewhere behind, but he couldn’t afford to stop. He pressed harder on the gas pedal, and the speedometer needle climbed. Across the seat where he’d tossed Deja, he stretched to buckle her in, one eye on the road.