Intense thumping brought me back to consciousness. I flinched, realising the pounding was coming from my own head and not the music of the club. My brain was raving to the speeding beat of my heart, each pulse more painful than the last.

The rattle of a soft snore came from beside me and my eyes popped open in surprise. I was in a bed. I could just about make out the outline of Delta asleep beside me. Grey, early morning light filtered in through the windows behind her, burning my overly sensitive retinas. I turned away, my stomach lurching in a way I was getting all too familiar with.

I was going to be sick.

I dashed to the bathroom as a rush of vomit climbed my throat—making it just in time. Luckily, there wasn't much in my stomach to actually puke up and a few moments later I was slumped against the welcome coolness of the tiled wall, feeling exhausted.

What the hell had happened last night?

My legs shook as I rose and tiptoed to the sink, my eyes half closed in pain as the relentless pounding in my head continued. I found a half bottle of mouthwash amongst the crowd of products on the sink and swilled it. The menthol just about blew my face off, but it was better than the taste of stomach acid and stale booze.

I splashed my face with cold water from the faucet, just about having a heart attack as I straightened to look in the mirror. Zaphron was behind me, leaning on the open door frame—shirtless.

"Morning," he said huskily, grinning at my startled reflection. His dark hair was sticking up in ways that seemed to defy gravity.

"Jesus Zaph, don't you know how to knock?" I wiped my hand down my face under the pretence of wiping off water, but it was mostly to get my eyes under control. I couldn't tear my gaze away from his torso. The entire left side was covered in ink. A forest of pine trees, matching those on his sleeve, climbed his ribs—surrounding a finely tattooed mountain on his chest. The detail was incredible—as life-like as a photograph. It was almost enough to distract from the toned body it was inked onto.

Almost.

Zaphron caught my wandering gaze, flaring an eyebrow. "I did knock, the door was open. I heard you puking and thought I'd check if you were okay."

I turned to face him, grimacing at the thought of him being present for yet another one of my bouts of nausea. "Was I slipped something last night?"

He nodded slowly, his mouth set in a grim line. "You passed out, then that fucking creep was there, offering to pay us if we handed you over." Zaphron's face screwed up as he cracked his knuckles. Angry red and purple bruising covered his right fist. "He must have put something in the drinks when he had me distracted at the bar. Lucky I didn't drink mine—Axel wasn't exactly in the right state to fend him off alone."

I shivered, wondering where I might have woken up if the creep had managed to drug us both. Would I have woken up at all?

As if induced by the thought, a second wave of nausea hit me and I sprang forward, diving for the toilet. Zaphron backed out the door quickly, giving me some space.

I bent over the bowl ready to puke, but nothing came. Just a dry heave and a hot flush of sweat that coated my forehead. I sank down to the floor and leaned against the tiles again, my chest heaving.

"He really did a number on you," Zaphron said darkly from the doorway. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Delta's duffel." I gave a limp gesture to the room behind him.

He retrieved it in silence, placing it next to me before taking up my previous position at the sink.

I dug through the bag, finding a pain-relief patch and slapping it onto my neck. It only took a few moments to kick in. I breathed a long sigh of relief as the churning in my gut dissolved along with the pounding in my head.

Zaphron was staring at me in the mirror—and made no attempt to avert his gaze when I opened my eyes. "Better?" he asked.

"Better," I confirmed, my eyes roaming over his bare back. He seemed satisfied with my answer, turning his attention to washing his face at the sink. I swallowed as the shift and flex of his shoulder muscles made a smattering of tattooed birds dance across his skin.

The room was suddenly feeling a little too warm.

Zaphron didn't notice as I slipped from the bathroom with the duffel, tiptoeing back to the bedroom. I found Delta awake and struggling to sit herself up in bed.

"Morning," she grunted inching herself back until she was almost upright. Her arm dangled limply from her injured shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" I asked looking her over. She'd regained some colour in her cheeks, but I couldn't stop staring at the lifeless way her arm was just hanging there. The sight knotted my throat.

She shrugged with her good shoulder. "As well as could be expected." Her eyes drifted from me to Zaphron as he emerged from the bathroom and a brief smirk twitched on her lips. "What's the plan for today? There's a supercell on its way over."

I gawped at her. She had been heavily sedated and pumped full of morphine the last twelve hours—and yet she still knew about the supercell. How was I so out of touch?

"Zaphron wants to take me to Dad's place this morning. He thinks being back there might help me work out where Dad could have hidden the malware."

"That actually might not be the worst idea," Delta admitted. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Will you be alright heading out alone with him?"

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. After the events of last night, my faith in Zaphron had improved dramatically. "I trust him." I said earnestly. "But I'll only go if you're sure you'll be okay here."

Delta glanced lazily at Axel who was still asleep on the fold-out couch. "I haven't seen anyone here that I couldn't take down if I needed to," she said, patting the laser pistol at her side.

A chuckle came from just behind me as Zaphron appeared. He'd acquired a white t shirt since exiting the bathroom and was now fully dressed—shoes and all. "I'll admit the guys can be pretty annoying, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't shoot any of the team while I'm away."

"I make no promises," Delta said—and I was quite sure she meant it. "You two better get going if you want a chance to look around Alistair's place properly. The storm is supposed to hit just after midday."

I scrabbled around for my boots, finding one at the end of the bed and the other near the door. It didn't take long to deduce that Zaphron was responsible for their locations. He and Delta chatted briefly, exchanging Lens details as I tied my laces. When I was ready, Delta thrust the duffel at me.

"There's a PEP and a taser in there," she said, her eyes darting from me to Zaphron and back again. "Just in case you need them."

"Thanks," I replied, smirking as Zaphron pretended to look offended. "Can't be too careful."

Another expensive hov awaited us in a multi-level parking lot two blocks away. This one was a sleek, black coupe.

I stared at my reflection in the passenger side door as it popped open and the smell of new upholstery wafted out. "Is this stolen?"

Zaphron let out a laugh, sliding into the driver's seat. "Completely legitimate," he said. "It's Jax's."

I swallowed down a laugh of my own and climbed in beside him. "You're joking." The mental image of skinny little Jax driving such a beastly car refused to come together in my mind.

Zaphron chuckled under his breath. "Seriously. The tight bastard never lets me drive it." He adjusted the controls, disabling auto-drive, and took hold of the steering wheel.

"No auto-drive?" I asked, trying to hide the uncertain wobble in my voice.

"No time," he replied with a shrug. "We have to get there as fast as possible—and auto-drive isn't going to cut it."

I gulped and tightened my harness straps. Something told me I was going to need them.