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Clearing his throat, Philippe shoved his hands into his pockets. “It could be an enemy of mine or the clan to commit both acts, but I’ll admit that I’m not sure as to who that could be. The Arsenaults keep a low profile. We don’t attract the attention of others. I’m not sure who would wish me or mine harm.”
“Why does it feel like you have another suggestion in mind but don’t want to share it?”
Philippe glanced up at Rafe to find him smiling, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased.
“What if the shooter was not an enemy of the Arsenaults?” Philippe said cautiously.
Rafe lifted one eyebrow at him, but his smile didn’t waver. “The shooter was an enemy of the Variks.” Rafe paused and gave a small nod of his head. “I was the only one hit. It could be just an unlucky coincidence that you were with me.”
“Jullien did mention that you had trouble with that one human group?”
Rafe lost his smile. “The Humans Protecting Humans League,” he muttered under his breath.
There weren’t many humans who knew or believed in vampires, but the Humans Protecting Humans League saw themselves as the guardians of humanity. Philippe had managed to steer clear of them over the decades, but the Variks hadn’t been so lucky. Particularly when it was revealed that the Black Wolf clan had manipulated and used the League as its own squad of hit men.
“Maybe we were wrong. Maybe there wasn’t a vampire hunting us tonight. It could have been someone from the League. Humans are far more prone to using guns than vampires.”
“True,” Rafe murmured. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped out something quickly. “I’m texting Winter about the League. He keeps a close eye on these things. He might know if we’re still a target or even if they’re active in Hartford.”
Philippe watched Rafe’s expression as he sent a message to his brother. He was willing to guess that Winter or one of his other brothers had something to say, because his frown deepened, and his brow furrowed. He typed some more before sighing as he tucked his phone away.
“It’ll likely take a night or two to get more information,” Rafe said as he returned his gaze to Philippe.
The silence stretched between them, and for the first time it felt uncomfortable. The night was still young and they could go out again, search more of Piper’s hunting grounds, but after Rafe’s injury, Philippe was reluctant to do so. But he also didn’t want to leave.
If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to cross the living room and pin Rafe to the wall with his own body. To continue what had happened in that dark hallway at the club. But Philippe didn’t move. He kept the furniture between them as he stood on the opposite side of the room. Less than an hour ago, Rafe had been bleeding and in pain. If the attacker hadn’t been a Varik enemy, then Rafe had been shot because of danger that Philippe had brought into his life.
Self-doubt, longing, and nervous anxiety mixed in his gut to create a toxic potion that was sent pumping through his blood. He didn’t want to leave but felt guilty for lingering.
“Let it go, Philippe,” Rafe murmured. There seemed to be a twinkle of poorly concealed laughter in his sharp blue eyes.
Philippe opened his mouth, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say. To take the blame yet again? To profess ignorance as to what he was referring to? It didn’t matter. The words were instantly stopped by the soft ding announcing the arrival of the elevator. They stood, silently staring at each other until a shaky voice called into the penthouse.
“Rafe? Are…are you there?”
Rafe ripped his eyes from Philippe, his expression becoming a mask of worry. “Gideon?”
They both turned toward the hallway to see a slender young man with sandy blond hair and a pale face lined with pain. He was leaning heavily against the wall as he hobbled into the room.
Rafe swore softly as he rushed to the newcomer and swept him into his arms. “Gideon, you haven’t fed again. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
“You’ve been so busy recently. Not coming to the club. I…I didn’t want to bother you.” Gideon’s words were muffled as he turned his face into Rafe’s chest. “Lola said you’d be there tonight, but I missed you.”
“How did you get here? Where is Lola?”
“Called a car. Didn’t want to bother her.”
Rafe sighed, and Philippe could see him tighten his arms carefully around the vampire before sitting down in one of the plush leather chairs. Getting the young one settled in his lap, Rafe quickly unfastened the top couple of buttons of his shirt. “You need to feed.”
