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André shrugged. “Not the first time it’s happened to me. Admittedly, I didn’t expect it to happen in Cooper Springs, but maybe I should have.” He’d briefly wondered if the shooter had been Trent. Had the deputy resorted to violence? Did he hate André that much?
He’d surprised Trent in his office a week ago; had he discovered André’s notes on his lack of improvement? Lionel had made some excuse about needing a secure internet connection which could, unfortunately, have been true.
They were back inside the station now. Lani had arrived with lights and sirens blaring, which meant the entire town knew something had happened. They’d probably think someone had been stopped for speeding or drunk driving—André hoped so anyway.
“At least let me clean it for you. I think you might need a couple of stitches.”
“Graduated from medical school, did you? Or was it the multiple seasons ofGrey’s Anatomy?”
Lani’s eyes narrowed and the flare of her nostrils told André he was being an ass. He opened his mouth to apologize when the door burst open, slamming backward into the wall. They both froze, staring at the apparition in front of them. It wasn’t Lionel Trent, that was immediately clear.
The hulking figure testing the confines of his black leather jacket and wearing a fierce scowl on his face was Dante Casto-er, Brown. André would recognize him anywhere.
“Police business,” Lani said, sharply turning on the intruder, her hand on the service weapon against her hip.
“Gunfire came from this direction. Then sirens.” Dante’s eyes were wild. His gaze landed on André, and he blanched.
“André,” Dante breathed out his name in a way André had never heard before. “What happened?”
“Excuse me,” Lani interjected, acid dripped from her tone, but she released her weapon, realizing Dante wasn’t a threat. At least, not to anyone in the building. “An expert on ammunition and firearms, are you?”
“Lani,” André said—although he appreciated her guard-dog demeanor.
“What?” she snapped, glancing at him.
“This is... a friend of mine, Dante Brown.” Brown didn’t sound right on his tongue at all. Castone was the name Dante should be using. “He’s—he was a cop. I know him.” A cop of sorts, but it was too complicated to get into.
“Okay.Great. You were a cop. My apologies.”
She didn’t sound apologetic, but that was Lani. And André had to admit, a person could go either way with Dante—cop or perp.
His laser-blue gaze homing in on André’s cheek, Dante took two steps across the lobby to crouch down in front of him.
“What the fuck happened?” Dante whispered, lifting a hand to run a finger down André’s wounded face. Was Dante trembling? His voice shaking? No, that couldn’t be right. “I—”
“Some asshole took a shot at him, obviously,” Lani interrupted.
“Two shots,” Dante corrected. “Two fucking bullets aimed right at you.”
André nodded. “Two. But, as you can see, they both missed.”
“He won’t go to the hospital.”
Dante managed a passing smile. “Of course, he fucking won’t. But.” He peered closer. André could smell his aftershave and a hint of sweat, and his cock twitched. “I think a butterfly Band-Aid will do the job. If not, I have some superglue at my place.”
“Seriously,” Lani demanded, her hands on her hips now. “Who the hell are you, bursting in here like that?”
“Like I said, he’s a—”
Dante cut him off. “I’m more than a friend, but André hasn’t figured it out yet.” He shrugged and looked up at Lani. “To be fair, it took him disappearing on me for me to figure it out. But I’m not doing a vanishing act this time, so maybe he’ll finally get a damn clue.”
Lani’s gaze darted between the two of them. André hoped she knew what Dante was talking about because it was beyond his capability at this point. She seemed to come to the conclusion that Dante at least wasn’t an immediate threat.
“Huh. Well, maybe you can talk some sense into him,” she muttered.
“I doubt it,” Dante said dryly.
“Dante, this is my star deputy, Lani Cooper.”
