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“What about Jim Gunn?”
He blinks slowly, his face losing all its color. “How do you know that name?” he asks hoarsely.
“I heard he dated Missy King.”
Cross swallows, wrapping one hand around his stomach. “You don't need to say that, Lizzy.”
“Why not?”
He gives me a sharp look that makes me feel like I'm being warned. “Just don't say it. Don't ask me about it. Sometimes there's stuff you just don't need to know. Do you get that?”
His face is deadly serious, and I almost feel like I’m in some kind of crime drama. I shiver, and for a long second, I consider letting it lie. But then the stern look on his face starts looking kind of...fearful. “Cross—what's going on? Do you know something bad?” I suck in a deep breath. “Did Jim Gunn do something to her?”
My question seems to hit Cross like a punch. He bends at the waist, clutching his head and moaning. “How do you know this shit, Elizabeth?”
“So he did?” My eyes are a centimeter away from popping clean out of my head.
Cross looks at me through his hands, and when he speaks, his voice is ragged. “Suri told you, didn't she? She told you what I said about the guy I saw who was messing with my bike.”
I shake my head. “But if Jim Gunn did something bad to your father's ex-mistress and you know about it, and if you think the guy beside your bike that night was him... That's bad, Cross. That's scary bad.”
Cross is leaning heavily on the side of the bed, breathing hard, and I notice there are wires running out of the bottom of his t-shirt as one of the machines starts to hum.
I step close enough to touch his shoulder. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
He sucks his breath in, and just as I get really worried, his right hand clutches mine. I lace my fingers through his, and someone knocks on the door. “You okay in there?” Nanette calls.
“Fine,” he says, but it sounds like he's gasping.
“Oh my God, Cross.” I wrap my arms around him and he pulls me close.
I drag a deep breath in, and the monitor stops beeping. I run my palm over his soft, short hair and look into the handsome face I've known for my whole life. I can't imagine someone hurting Cross. “I'm sorry that I mentioned that stuff. I didn't mean to upset you.”
I'm expecting him to brush his freakout off, the way Cross would. I'm expecting anything but what he does, which is push my hair back and kiss me, his lips touching mine for half a second before he jerks away.
I touch my mouth, horrified. “Cross—”
“I know, okay?” He holds his hands up. “I know I'm not the one you want. Jesus, Lizzy, just give me a second.” He turns away, and out of nowhere, tears are spilling down my cheeks. I feel like I can’t do anything—for Cross or Hunter.
I'm standing there with my arms around myself, wishing I had never come here today, when Cross turns me around to face him. There's space between us this time. “I'm sorry, Lizzy. Please forgive me.”
“I do. Of course I do.” I look into his blue eyes. “But I'm worried about you. If you know details of a...I don't know, some kind of crime—”
“Shhh.” He reaches for me, but he doesn't touch me. He brings his hand back to his side. “Don't talk about that, please. And don't think about it either, okay? I'm fine now. I'm good.”
I wipe my eyes, smirking. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Would that be bad?”
“Yes.” It would be terrible for Cross to go through this alone. Just like it's terrible for Hunter. “It was him, wasn't it?” I whisper. “Jim Gunn did something to make Missy King disappear, and you know he did.”
He shuts his eyes.
“Did your father...ask him to?” It's such a horrible question, I can barely get the words out. It seems impossible, but if Conrad West is right, and Missy King turned into trouble... God, he really might have had her killed or sold as a sex slave or God knows what. I drop my voice an octave lower. “Do you have, like, evidence or something?”
Cross hesitates, his lips pressed into a firm line. And I know Cross. That's a confirmation.
I feel cold all over. Icy. For a long second, I can't even find my voice. When I do, it's high and squeaky. Scared. “What are you going to do about it?”
