I shuffled unsteadily into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. The back of my head ached from where I’d been hit, and my hair was tacky with blood. Probably explained the nausea. I checked myself and found no other serious injuries, just chafed wrists from the cuffs and facial abrasions from the duct tape.
As for my weapons, my Ruger was locked in the Gray Ghost’s glove box. I still had the revolver in my ankle holster. An expended cartridge was all that remained of my Taser. Still, it could have been worse.
I was still feeling nauseated when Conor pounded on the door.
“Jinxie, open up!”
Keeping a hand on the wall, I made my way to the door and opened it. The glaring afternoon sun and triple-digit heat hit me like a semi truck. Conor caught me before I lost my balance and helpe
