The empty space around Knight, Elliot and Shadow reminded Gray that the latter really needed a wash if he was to be around people, so maybe Gray should let him use the tub again? A nice, warm bath as a thank you for saving Gray’s life? Better food? It should be a fitting expression of gratitude as long as Shadow understood there were no other emotions involved.
“Gray, come here. Your daddy told me they made you that new hand in a 3D printer within just hours. That’s so impressive,” tweeted Angel.
Gray would have recognized her squeaky voice from a mile away. For a moment, he considered pretending he hadn’t heard her, maybe join another conversation, but when Rev called him too, there was no use, and he slowly made his way to the mismatched couple.
Angel was the kind of girl famous rock stars hung out with—blonde, busty, dressed in tight clothes, and with a face that was pretty yet somehow vulgar at the same time. She was so within Rev’s type she could have been a double for Gray’s own mother. He didn’t have any memory of her, but the few photographs he’d seen showed a woman who bore a striking resemblance to at least a quarter of the women who visited the clubhouse in a never-ending stream.
“Yes. Yes, they gave me a hand,” he said. Har-har.
Her big eyes widened, and she stirred in Rev’s lap in a way that made Gray physically uncomfortable. “It’s amazing what doctors can do these days! You can even move your fingers,” she said with a sense of amazement.
Gray looked at his hand and cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s um… bionic.”
“Ooh! That’s amazing! Can I touch it?” she asked with sheer awe.
Behind her back, Rev winked at Gray, as if this was one big joke. But she was serious. And he, a man old enough to be her father, for some reason was interested in her. The sex couldn’t possibly be that good.
Gray cleared his throat. “No. It’s still very sensitive.”
Rev nodded, barely holding back a laugh. “Everything about my son is very sensitive.” He’d clearly had too much beer already.
Angel giggled and slapped his shoulder. “Rev! Come on! He’s been in an accident.”
A gunshot came out of nowhere, the bullet flying so close to Gray’s head he could feel its heat.
Angel shrieked and fell back on the sofa, but Rev was already pulling her to the floor. The bottle slid out of Gray’s hand just before exploding mid-air and sending glass in every direction. As he ducked, Gray twisted his body toward the shooter, tense as if the blood in his veins had been replaced with concrete. Screams erupted all around, creating a noise screen that dulled Gray’s senses as he fell, instinctively reaching for his gun.
He tore the Glock out of its holster and was about to take aim when in the corner of his eye he spotted a black object speeding toward him. The moment he faced what he thought was approaching danger, Shadow’s human body slumped to the floor like a discarded marionette.
The black figure smelling of sulphur splashed onto him and clung to the front of his body like a new layer of skin. Gray hadn’t yet understood what happened when a bullet ricocheted off his cheekbone leaving him with a dull ringing in his ears.
He touched the place where the bullet should have penetrated his skull. But the moment his gaze settled on a long barrel stuck from behind the door, he took a deep breath and charged, kept safe by the strongest bulletproof substance there was. His movements were only slightly constricted by Shadow’s presence, but that didn’t matter at all when his heart beat like a war drum.
The world around him was dim, as if Gray’s eyes were stuck behind welding goggles, but his focus stayed razor-sharp even in the confines of the warm suit that was not only alive around him but also hyper-aware of any threats.
Gray shot at the man peeking out from behind the empty door frame, but the fucker hid, and only the plaster exploded when hit by the bullet.
Cold air was a shock to his system once Shadow’s warm form slid off him, and where Gray’s bullet hadn’t reached, Shadow did.
Black arms elongated and thinned like liquorice chewing gum, but lost no momentum. One looped around the assailant's midsection, the other—around his head, and the man’s combat boots lifted off the ground.
With an inhuman screech, Shadow threw him at a nearby wall, but it took Gray two blinks of an eye to realize that the head stayed in Shadow’s outstretched hand, along with a dangling bit of meat and bone.
Blood exploded from the neck of the body sliding down to the floor, and this time the screams reached Gray’s ears along with rushed footsteps of people running away. Shadow wasn’t even paying attention and dropped the balaclava-covered head. He looked around and paced down the corridor.