“Think so?”
Nathan shut the phone. “Well, you did save Mr. Marsh and Mrs. Dean from two attackers. You were defending your spouse when you took the gun from Mr. Marsh and were forced to render him unconscious. Temporarily, of course.”
“Of course.” Flashbacks. Nathan had always been able to spin the bullshit with the best of them. Warmth settled beneath Shane’s rib cage that he remembered his brother. His life was coming back. “Where’s my wife?”
Nathan pushed back from the table, his hands tapping the arm of the chair. “I’m sorry. I have no knowledge of your wife.”
Shane counted the taps. Morse code. Josie was safe with Matt.
Matt?
Yeah, Matt. His oldest brother, the one who’d taught him to fight. Shane’s breath whooshed out, and he blinked against light-headedness. Tears tried to prick the backs of his eyes. He remembered. He wasn’t alone.
So he cleared his throat, trying to clear his head. “Yeah, well, I figure she’s about done with me. After this arrest and all.” He relaxed his shoulders and gave a small shrug. The woman had better not even think of being done with him. She was his life, and no way was he letting her go again.
Nathan narrowed his eyes, stopping his tapping. “Yes, well, that probably would be best. Considering the danger you’ve put her in.”
If Shane had a “screw you” smile, he gave it to his brother. “Speaking of such, any clue why danger is following me?”
“No, sorry.” Nathan had a pretty decent “screw you” smile as well. “Of course, I’m just your lawyer. You don’t tell me everything.” The door opened, and he cleared his throat, straightening when a tall woman in a sexy red cocktail dress clicked stilettos across the floor.
She sat across from them. “Gentlemen.” Her black hair had been swept away from pale skin smattered with freckles. “I’m Cynthia Miller, the prosecuting attorney. The chief of police dragged me out of one hell of a party.”
Nathan smoothed down his silk tie. “Nathan Jones here for Major Dean. I do apologize, Ms. Miller. Our client here, well, he should be let go. Or charged.” The smile Nathan flashed was all teeth and dare.
Malloy lumbered in, dropping his bulk into a chair next to the prosecutor. “I have a victim willing to press charges.”
Nathan tsked his tongue. “You have a spurned lover who was pissed-off my client saved the girl while Marsh ended up on his ass.” He cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, ma’am.”
Green eyes flashed. “I know what an ‘ass’ is, Mr. Jones.” Her tone made it perfectly clear she considered him one. She cleared her throat. “I assume the woman is willing to testify?”
Nathan sat forward. “She’s willing to testify Tom pulled a gun on Shane, who just defended himself. Then she went willingly with him.”
Cynthia narrowed her gaze on Shane. “Major?”
He cleared his throat. “The two men I took out meant harm. I didn’t kill them and merely trussed them up for the police.” He pinned Malloy with a hard glare. “Marsh pulled out a gun. Josie was too close to the barrel; I thought she might get hurt. I disarmed him, he struggled, and I knocked him out for a brief time. No damage, not even a bruise.”
Cynthia sighed. “There’s no case here, Detective.” She stood and glanced at an antique watch around a rather delicate wrist. “Let him go.”
“But—” Malloy pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the hard concrete.
“But nothing.” She opened the door. “You want to take a decorated marine to trial for saving his wife from two attackers and a spurned boyfriend with a gun. If something else comes up, charge him. Right now, there’s nothing here to take to trial. Let him go.”
Malloy stood, his gaze hard on Shane. “Looks like you lucked out again, Dean.” He tapped files against his hand. “Leave town. For once, be a decent guy and let that little girl go. She’s better off without you.” His jaw hardened.
Shane straightened his shoulders and stood. “I’m never letting her go, Malloy.” He pivoted and followed his brother from the room.
Chapter 17
Josie fought the urge to thump her head against her desk. Now she had to convince three larger-than-life jackasses she needed to go to work. There was suddenly way too much testosterone in her life.
The good news was that since Shane had been freed, he could openly bring her to work. No more hiding. Which was good because she disliked lying to her coworkers. But it was bad, because the man sat sprawled in her guest chair, gray eyes focused solely on her.
“Shane. You need to leave so I can get some work done.” Either that, or toss his sexy ass on the desk and have her way with him. Again.
He steepled his fingers under his chin. “So. You and Mattie had quite the discussion, I take it?”