Free The Exchange Part 1 by N. Isabelle Blanco Page A

professionals focused on the mission.
     We've degraded into teenage morons locked in a competition. And man, I wish I could
     turn it off. This is dangerous. Fucked-up. Sapphire's life is in peril. We should
     be focused on what's important: bringing our A-game to this situation.
    Good luck bringing it with a quarter of the blood in your body gone. I sigh and break our little staring contest.
    Sapphire grabs my hand. "Bleeding's stopped."
    Thank fuck for that. My skin remains torn to the bone, but there's no more blood leaking
     out.
    She lets my hand go. Standing up on her tip-toes, she reaches up to pull my hood over
     my head. The movement brings her face close. Way too fucking close.
    Awareness blazes to life in the small space between our faces. Wide-eyes clash with
     mine. Her breath leaves her on a surprised exhale.
    My head feels light. Don't know if it's the blood loss or her.
    Probably her.
    "Cops are starting to close off the areas around the blast. Let's get out of here.
     Now."
    Sapphire jerks away from me at the sound of Gage's words.
    Cockblocking bastard. Yeah, he has a point, but I'm not thinking about that right
     now. She'd been so close and I just want her back.
    Gage reaches into his pocket. A second later, a pair of leather gloves slap me in
     the chest. I barely manage to catch them before they fall on the floor.
    "Cover up those hands. They're a mess."
    No shit, ass.
    The nerves along the edges of my wounds are just starting to repair themselves. Bending
     my fingers to hold the gloves sends mini-shocks of pain racing up into my forearm.
     Sonofabitch, it's going to be real fun once the healing process truly gets going.
    I'm used to physical pain, though, so I hide it.
    But Sapphire somehow senses something is up. Her movements as gentle as before, she
     takes the gloves from me and motions for me to straighten my hands.
    Moving the gloves into position, she stops right before sliding them on. Her eyes
     meet mine and the concern I see in them threatens to unman me. This is the same girl
     that ruthlessly killed her attackers, but seeing me in pain gets to her.
    And that gets to me, on every dangerous level possible.
    Shit, this girl.
    "No matter what I do, this is going to hurt," she informs me in a small voice.
    "S'kay." I shrug. "Nothing worse than I've had before."
    She doesn't seem to like that statement. I grind my teeth but remain silent as she
     carefully slips the gloves on. As soon as they're in place, Gage all but herds us
     into action.
    "Let's go. Before they find and catch us in here."

     
     
     
    AVOIDING THE AUTHORITIES hadn’t been easy. Getting through the crush of people trying
     to escape the scene had been even more of a headache.
    But the shittiest part of all?
    About four blocks away from Tung Choi Street, the blood loss caught up to me. Honestly,
     in retrospect, I should’ve known that the gaping holes in my fingers would lead to
     this. I might be part machine, but I still need blood in my body to survive.
    All of that is nothing more than fucking semantics to me right now. I’m pissed. Beyond
     livid. Ready to punch another hole through someone’s face. I’m a man, alright? One that prides himself on strength. A fucking warrior. I’ve dedicated
     ten years of my life to becoming the best, fastest, strongest fighter possible.
    And yet, at this moment, I’m being dragged through the small parking lot of a motel.
     Sapphire and Gage are holding me up, my arms draped over their shoulders.
    Translation: I’m so God damned weak right now that I’m being carried . An epic moment of emasculation and it’s happening in front of the girl I’m attracted
     to.
    Perfect.
    “Dear God, dude. Maybe it’s all the hardware inside you, but you weigh a fucking ton,”
     Gage complains.
    “Shut the fuck up,” I grouse, jaw clenched. “I’ve seen your file. Somehow, you’re
     three pounds heavier than I am, with just one bionic arm.”
    “You’re talking too much for a guy