PAIN.

Considerable, uncomfortable pain.

My eyes flew open as my lips gasped for breath. Last I remembered, I was drowning. Treading water with blood seeping from gunshot wounds and the growl of a speedboat stealing my woman.

Goddammit, Pim.

Launching upright, I cried out as pain turned to filleting agony, shoving me backward onto the bed.

Where the hell am I?

Blinking fuzzy eyes, I reconned my current hellhole. Sheets smelled like me, walls were familiar, furniture known.

My room.

Wait…the last time I’d been here, I’d been fighting for my life while Pim stood captive by Chinmoku. Thanks to that battle, a fair amount of redecoration had happened.

Struggling to sit up enough to look at the carpet, I steeled myself for the crimson splatters of blood and bloated bodies; for smashed furniture and torn curtains.

However, instead of a crime scene, sterile cleanliness stared back. The stringent whiff of bleach and industrial grade cleaners hung in the air, the carpet darker in places where it remained wet from being washed.

No sign of any struggle or massacre.

Everything righted.

Everything the same.

Did I dream it? Had I smoked a bad batch of weed and believed in a nightmare where Pim was stolen and I was fucking shot by some French asshole who’d singlehandedly destroyed my life?

If I had, why the hell did everything hurt so damn much?

Footsteps came from outside. I glowered at the open door, my muscles locked and ready to defend.

I might be on the Phantom, but everything else was foreign—including my body.

“Ah, you’re awake. About time.” Selix marched in, a tray in his hands with silverware and something steaming in a bowl. “Michaels said you’d be out for a while, but it’s been hours, Prest.”

“Wh—” I coughed; my throat burned with salt.

Had I drowned? Was this purgatory where my soul thought it was alive while my body was nibbled by crustaceans at the bottom of the sea? And if I wasn’t dead, who had found me? How was I alive?

Where the hell is Pim?

My stupid brain tossed question after question at me, demanding to know every minuscule detail immediately.

My heart chugged as stress layered my system. “What happened?” I grimaced as my voice sounded shipwrecked and full of driftwood.

“Chinmoku found you.” Selix stepped toward my bed and set the tray on the table. “Then some French fucker arrived, mowed down the Chinmoku, shot you, and took Pim.”

So it wasn’t a bad joint, after all.

Shit.

“I know all that,” I snapped. “I mean, what’s happened since? Where were you? Have you found Pim? How long have I been out?” Glancing down at my pain-stabbed body, I pried up the blanket and inspected.

Holy shit.

Naked, my skin was no longer the blended western-eastern tan I knew but a multitude of bruises, contusions, and trauma. I looked like Pim did when we first met.

My dragon tattoo hid beneath wrapped bandages, twining their way around my ribs, up and over my shoulder and left bicep. My ring finger on my right hand rested in a splint, my left arm nestled in a sling, and a brace wrapped around my ankle with Velcro.

I was a prisoner to medical supplies.

Selix cleared his throat.

My eyes shot to his. I let the sheet flutter over me, pretending my body wasn’t in a million pieces.

“Explain,” I seethed.

How the hell was I supposed to go after Pim like this?

“I heard them leave. Noticed you overboard. Managed to get to you before you drowned.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Prest. I’m sorry for not coming sooner and preventing them from taking her.”

Whatever he’d been up to while Pim and I had been ambushed wasn’t his fault. That was entirely on me for not paying attention. As much as I blamed him for her disappearance, he’d pulled me from the sea. He’d saved one person. Too bad he’d saved the wrong one.

Before I could thank him and curse him in equal measure, Michaels strode through the door with a stethoscope over his neck and black bag in hand. “Selix told me you were alive.”

“Alive, yes. But you won’t be for much longer if you don’t fix me.” Waving at my broken body, I growled. “Take this shit off me.”

Michaels placed his bag of tricks onto the mattress, nudging my good leg. “Afraid they can’t come off yet.”

“Well, they have to ‘cause we have Chinmoku to hunt and French bastards to slaughter.”

Selix crossed his arms. “I’m in the process of tracking down the men who took Pim. I’m on it, I promise. All you need to do is rest.”

“Wrong. All I need to do is get out of this godforsaken bed.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him or appreciate his promise. If Selix said he was doing something to find them, then I had no doubt he was. But it didn’t stop my rapidly building rage. I wasn’t going to lie here while he did the work. I’d never been good at accepting help. And I definitely wouldn’t start now—not when the woman I loved was on the line.

I let Pim down. I had to be the one to fix it.

Michaels popped a few pills, grabbing the glass of water on my bedside. “Take these.”

“I’m not taking anything until you give me answers.”

“Take them and then I’ll give you answers.”

My head pounded as I focused on the painkillers. I couldn’t deny my thoughts were scattered thanks to agony. If I could ignore the pain, perhaps I could work better. Faster. Cleaner. We’d find Pim before the end of the day, and I’d have two more kills under my belt when I took the men’s hearts for stealing her.

Snatching the tablets, I tossed them into my mouth and swallowed them dry. Glowering at Michaels, I raised my eyebrow for him to keep his side of the bargain.

Nodding, he said, “You were in surgery for a while. I had to enlist an extra pair of hands from a hospital not far from here. That bill is going to sting, by the way. Just letting you know in advance.” He cracked a smile, but when I continued to glare, he slipped into bullet-point form of my maladies. “The bullet got you in the shoulder. It tore a few ligaments, which means you might end up with a buggered joint, but I did my best. The stitches in your hairline will come out in a week. Only had to sew seven, even though your thick skull was showing, so count yourself lucky. You over-stretched the tendons in your elbow, so you’ll have considerable weakness and pain while you heal, and physiotherapy will be your friend to get full movement back. Two cracked ribs, possibly bruised kidneys, a broken ring finger, and can’t forget the fractured ankle.”

Glancing at Selix, he quipped, “Did I miss anything?”

Selix shrugged. “Who the hell knows? Sounds more like a grocery list rather than my friend.”

I gave him a look, appreciating the nod to our friendship and his wry sarcasm turning this frustrating moment into a more endurable trial.

Michaels shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, all things considering, you’re doing better than you should after being attacked and enjoying a one-on-one altercation with a gun.”

I was doing better than expected? Christ, I was useless.

A goddamn cripple.

I always hated being stationary and not moving. My brain existed at a faster frequency; I had no choice but to move in time with it. Lying in bed would turn me insane. Not knowing if Pim was okay would turn me into a monster.

We had to chase after her. Surely, Selix had set sail while I lay like a slab of meat for doctors to poke and prod at. He knew me. He would understand.

“You said I’ve been out for hours.” I looked at Selix. “Where are we? What course did you set?”

My ears strained for the comforting hum of propellers. My body searched for the well-known ocean-rock as we sliced through the waves on the heels of our enemies.

But there were no engines.

There was no rock.

We were stagnant just like I was stagnant in this goddamn bed.

My voice lowered to a dark threat. “Someone better tell me where we are and why we aren’t moving.”

Michaels shot a worried look at Selix. “Shit, I didn’t contemplate amnesia. You don’t think—”

“Goddammit, Michaels.” My temper lashed hot. “I don’t have amnesia. I’m not some asshole you have to babysit.”

Hoisting myself up against the pillows, I winced as fire and knives worked on different parts of my body. “I remember it all. I understand what happened. I hear the relay of my injuries. I see the bandages and stitches. I get it all, okay? What I don’t get is why we’re not moving. Why aren’t we enroute to find Pim? Why the fuck did you think it was wise to stay in England when Pim is obviously no longer in England?”

My brain swam as sickly sweat prickled my body. The painkillers did jack to numb what I’d endured.

Selix placed a hand on my burning shoulder, gently pushing me back against the pillows. “Because there’s no point sailing around with no destination. Besides, we don’t know if she’s not in England. They might’ve—”

“France, Selix. They were from fucking France and had a speed boat. They’ve gone across the channel.” I fought his pressure, slapping away his touch. “Even if logic didn’t give us a destination, there’s always a point because moving forward is better than doing nothing.”

He scowled. “We’ll find her. It’s only been a day. Lots of time—”

“Wait, what?” I shot upright, uncaring of the searing agony in my bones, ignoring the nausea in my skull. “A day? What do you mean a day?” Glaring at the sky, the brilliant sun didn’t blind me—the goddamn moon laughed in my face.

The moon I was named after by my romantic mother before her happiness turned to bitter sourness.

It was dark when Pim was taken.

It was dark now.

It’s only been a few hours, not twenty-four of the fuckers.

Please, let it only be a few hours.

Michaels rested his hand on my bandaged shoulder, making me hiss with another layer of discomfort. “It’s been twenty-seven hours, Prest. The operation took a while then you slept for a crap-load longer than we expected. Thought your concussion had put you in a coma at one point.”

A full day?

This just kept getting worse.

I bared my teeth, wishing I could rip someone into pieces. “Fantastic, we’ve done nothing to save Pim for a full day, and now I have a concussion. Anything else? Because now would be the time to tell me before I lose my goddamn shit.”

Michaels said matter-of-factly, “Trust me, a concussion is the least of your worries. Your vitals are fine. You’re speaking fine. You slept so long because you haven’t been sleeping the past few weeks. Something had to give and something did.” He gave me his best doctor don’t-mess-with-me-I-know-best stare. “We didn’t move from this pier because we didn’t know if I was qualified to get you through or if you’d need to be admitted to the hospital. Apologises if we put your life first rather than cast off and bob around the ocean searching for something we have no idea—”

“Pim is not something, Michaels.” Rage made me ball my hands before the splint on my broken finger and heavily bruised knuckles forced me to rethink such torture. “She’s everything. If she died while you did your damnedest to keep me alive…well—” I dropped to a whisper. “You better jump overboard before I catch you.”

Unperturbed by my threat, he tilted his chin. “You never were good at taking instruction, but believe me when I say you need to take better care of yourself.”

I wanted to gut him. “I need to be taking better care of Pimlico.”

Selix cut in, physically and verbally blocking our rapidly escalating fight. “And you will. It’s not like they’re going to get away with this. You’re awake now. We’ll go hunting.”

“It’s not about them getting away with this, Selix. It’s about how long they’ve already had her. What if she’s been touched? Raped? Hurt? What if all the progress we’ve made has unravelled all because I couldn’t keep her safe?”

Deeper, twistier pain entered my heart.

I’d let her down.

She’d never trust me again. She’d never love me again, and why the hell should she? I’d failed her and didn’t deserve another chance.

Fuck it.

Being this patient? Lying in bed being schooled by a doctor? I was done.

Soldiers at war didn’t rest.

I wasn’t about to, either.

Slinging the covers off, I didn’t care I was butt fucking naked. Hissing between my teeth, I swung my braced ankle and black and blue body to the edge of the mattress. The room spun upside down. I swallowed hard against the metallic rush of old blood and anaesthetic. “Tell Jolfer to set sail. Immediately.”

Michaels came forward, holding my bicep, supporting me while trying to push me back into bed. “Don’t be an idiot, Prest. You need rest. Your body is in desperate need of healing—”

“And I’m in desperate need of killing someone. It’s either that French bastard or you.”

When he didn’t take his hands off me, I shoved him aside and stood. I ignored the rush of black spots in my vision. I gulped back the crest of sickness and agony. I locked my knees against my unbalanced stumble and embraced the pain—mixing it with rage to make a cocktail that even I feared.

Shoving my nose in his, I snarled, “Choose. Them or you. Because if you get in my way, it’s you.”

Holding up his hands, Michaels backed off. His face etched with frustration. “Fine. You want to undo all my hard work and screw up your body, be my guest.” Throwing a look at Selix, he grabbed his bag and stormed to the door. “When he’s enlisted some common sense or passed out, come find me.”

He stalked to the door and slammed it with a harsh smack.

Good fucking riddance.

Selix stood there, watching as I plotted my next move.

Pim had been taken by French men. Their accent hadn’t been French Canadian. It wasn’t fake or second language. It’d been pure and from birth.

They were frogs born to frog leg country.

Natives to the country only a short sail away from England.

Not bothering to hide my indecency, I limped to my wardrobe, daring Selix to say something. Every footstep killed my ankle, elbow, shoulder, head, ribs—fucking everything—but I wouldn’t stop. I wouldn’t give in or relax or permit any kindness toward me.

Not until Pim was found and safe once again.

Not until blood ran in her honour.

So help me God.