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I felt a guilty stab when I remember another person who had died a year ago.
I hadn’t thought of her once for the last two hours.
Even with her photo up on the wall.
I was distracted, but his next words brought me crashing back down to earth.
“I’d let you stay here, but…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.
My chest tightened and my gut churned.
I was getting the bum’s rush.
I got up from the bed to get my clothes. “I get it.”
He grabbed my right wrist and pulled me roughly back down by his side. “No, you don’t.”
“Let go of me,” I said angrily, about to Krav Maga my way out of his grip.
He wisely let go of my arm, but he put his other hand gently on my left side.
“Look, if Kade was right – and I’m not saying he was, but hypothetically, if he was…”
If Kade was right – ?
“If it was a hit,” I murmured, suddenly realizing how much of a bratty teenager I’d been.
Jack wasn’t trying to boot me.
He was trying to protect me.
“It wasn’t,” he said hurriedly, probably trying to protect me in some naïve way from being a witness. Didn’t he realize how far in I was already?
No, of course he didn’t. He had no idea how far in I really was.
My reasons for being involved in this bloody drama were just different from his, that’s all.
I felt a little ashamed that he was trying so hard to shelter me, and here I was, essentially using him.
But I brushed past that point quickly.
“But if it was,” he continued, “I don’t want to leave you here unless you’re with me or someone I trust.”
“Because this is the first place they’d come.”
“If it were a hit. Which it wasn’t.”
I shook my head. “You can stop with the plausible deniability.”
He grinned. “Maybe someday.”
“I could go with you to the hospital.”
His face darkened. “There’ll be cops. Kade and I still have to give our statements.”
Oh.
