Feeling like an intruder, Eva backed away, but Vaughn’s eyes drifted toward her in a hint-hint kind of way, and Cam finally lifted his head to meet her gaze. “Thanks for helping him.”
Man, his tone was downright arctic. She’d have to check herself for frostbite later. “When I saw it happen, I thought you were…” She couldn’t give voice to those dark thoughts and cleared her throat. “He was driving your car.”
“Had a flat,” Vaughn muttered. “Took the 4Runner ‘cause Cam was working from home under orders from Greer.”
“And by that, you mean you slashed your own tire,” Cam corrected, frustration and a heavy dose of fear making his voice rusty. “Then you took the 4Runner, stole my wallet, and purposely dangled yourself as bait.”
Vaughn tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Had to be done.” He looked at Eva and explained, “I found Tom Lindquist. He told me he’d been approached about the hit, but had refused it. He gave me the name of someone he thought wouldn’t refuse and hinted that it was going down sooner rather than later. I had to do something.”
Cam’s hands tightened on the bed railing. “Fuck you, Vaughn. Putting yourself at risk like that? You could have died, and it would have killed me as good as a bullet.”
“Ditto,” Vaughn said, and underneath all the swelling, his eyes went steely. “You know how much it fucking scared me when I found out someone was going to try for you? I had to do something. You would have done the same.”
The twins locked stares until Vaughn drew in a breath that caused him to wince. He looked over at her again, something close to a plea in his eyes. “Eva, tell him he’s being an ass.”
No way. Things were already bad enough between them.
She kept her gaze on Cam, and instead tried to express everything she felt with her eyes. “It scared the hell out of me when I thought he was you.”
Cam nodded once, curtly, but said nothing more. Self-conscious in the face of his coolness, she stuffed her hands in her jeans pockets.
Vaughn gave a noisy sigh through his nose when she didn’t speak again. “Oh, c’mon, Eva. At least tell him what you came in here to tell me when you thought I was him.”
Cam lifted his eyebrows in question, but still said nothing.
Okay, so he was going to make her work for this. She didn’t blame him. “Can we step out into the hall?”
He looked at his brother, worry written all over his face, as if he was afraid to leave the bedside. Vaughn gave an almost imperceptible nod, communicating with him in their non-verbal way, both of them probably saying a shitload of meaningful things without opening their mouths.
Cam finally straightened away from the bed and walked toward the door without another word. She followed and tried to formulate everything she wanted to say to him into a coherent list.
Number one: I’m sorry.
Number two: I’m an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of me this whole time.
Number three: You’re an idiot for not telling me how you felt years ago.
Number four: Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again.
Number five—
She realized Cam was staring at her and sucked in a deep breath. But when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a faint, “How’s Vaughn?”
“He has several broken ribs, a bruised lung, a ruptured spleen, and a broken leg. Burns, bruises all over. The docs are monitoring him for internal blood loss. He may need surgery.” Listing his brother’s injuries seemed to drain the last bit of energy out of him and his shoulders sagged. He propped his back against the wall and crossed his arms in front of him. She wished she dared reach out and pull him into her arms, but would he accept her comfort or push her away? The part of her that feared he would push her away kept her rooted to the spot in the middle of the hallway, and she rocked back and forth on her feet, hands still in her pockets.
“But he’ll be okay?”
“It could have been worse. He’ll be healing for a long time, but he will heal.”
“Good. That’s…good.” She mentally flailed for something more to say. “Uh, it was Gordon Dunphy. I caught him trying to escape. He says he was paid to do it, but won’t give up the person who hired him until he has a plea deal on the table.”
“I know,” Cam said, his jaw tightening.
Desperate to delay the conversation they really needed to have for a few moments longer, she continued, “Charles Dunphy’s trial still wasn’t going well, despite my inadmissible testimony. He was staring down a life sentence, but now his lawyers are pointing the finger at Gordon as Selena Adams’ real killer, and the accusation has created enough reasonable doubt that it’s looking like he’ll be acquitted.”