Page 78 of Deserving Cora
She raised her head, and he saw she had little to no color in her cheeks. But she did as he asked, her eyes huge in her face. “What’s happening?” she asked.
Pipe’s limbs felt uncoordinated as he pulled his own shirt to cover his nose and mouth. When he turned, he saw Owl had done the same thing.
Looking around, Pipe tried to find the source of the sudden weakness in his limbs. He saw nothing.
“Gas,” Owl said, coughing harder.
“Gas?” Cora asked, standing up in alarm.
Pipe grabbed her and pulled her back into the chair. “Stay calm,” he ordered.
“Stay calm?” she echoed almost hysterically. “How can you even say that? We’re being gassed!”
Pipe coughed to try to clear the fuzzy feeling from his head, but it was no use.
“Are we gonna die?” Cora asked.
“No,” Pipe reassured her, although honestly, he had no idea what the assholes who’d locked them into this room had planned.
“I don’t smell anything,” Owl said. “No smell, no taste, and we can’t see any vapor.”
Something niggled in the back of Pipe’s mind. One of the guys on his SAS squad had a unique hobby. When they weren’t on missions, he had a workshop in the garden of his small house. He was an artist, and he made the most amazing metal figures. Some were small—Pipe had one back in his cabin at The Refuge. But his specialty was life-size sculptures. Mostly of animals. He and Pipe had talked once about the process of creating them, and his mate had gone on for almost an hour about the ins and outs of welding and how it worked.
And the one thing that came back to Pipe now, was how the guy had used argon gas to protect the metal being worked on.
He didn’t remember exactly how it worked, or why, but he clearly remembered the conversation they’d had about the dangerous properties of the gas itself. His mate had joked that it was probably one of the best agents to use if someone wanted to render someone unconscious. It was legal to buy and easy to procure.
And argon gas was odorless, tasteless, and completely transparent.
He had no idea if it was being used to incapacitate them right now, but it was as good a guess as anything else he could think of.
And speaking of thinking, Pipe was having a hard time doing anything other than trying not to puke his guts out.
“Pipe?” Cora asked in a thready tone.
He tried to reach for her and almost fell over. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “Come here, love,” he said, opening his arms.
Cora practically threw herself at him, and Pipe fell back on his arse, but he clasped Cora against him firmly. She buried her cloth-covered face into his neck, and he could feel her trembling against him.
“Fuck, man,” Owl said as he slumped in the chair next to the one Cora had been sitting in.
For the first time in his life, Pipe was truly terrified. He’d been through some scary shit in his previous career, but nothing was more frightening than the possibility of Cora being hurt. He felt himself swaying and knew it was only a matter of time before they were all overcome by the gas. Once they were unconscious, he had no doubt the bodyguard would return…and who knew what would happen to them then. What would happen toCora.
Ridge Michaels had already kidnapped one woman, and done who knows what to her. There was no telling what he’d do to his Cora.
And she was. His. Right then, with all the bullshit stripped away, Pipe knew what was truly important. Cora. His friends.
He’d always looked death in the eye, ready to give his life for the greater good, the safety of others. And he’d had no doubt the men fighting at his side had felt the same way. But things were different now. He didn’t want to die. Didn’t want Owl to die. And he certainly didn’t want anything to happen to Cora.
As a last-ditch effort to do something, Pipe shifted until he could get his phone out of his back pocket. His fingers shook as he clicked on Stone’s name. He needed to tell his friend what was happening. Get help.
But as he stared down at the text string, he frowned.
Oh, yeah, he’d already tried to contact Stone and the message wouldn’t go through. Bloody hell, he was so confused. He needed to get up. To do something. But he couldn’t seem to move. His limbs were heavy, his head hurt, and he felt as if he was going to hurl.
Looking up, he saw Owl sitting in the chair with his head back, his eyes closed. That seemed like a fine idea. He was so tired. A nap would be good.
Pipe leaned back, keeping Cora in his arms as he did so. She snuggled against him, and he smiled. Yeah, he liked when she curled into him. He remembered that so vividly from this morning. Except now, oddly, their bed was much harder than before.
