He closed his eyes. ‘You’re almost as good at guilting me as they are.’
‘I watch and learn,’ she said wryly. She took his hand and squeezed it hard. ‘I’m fine. I have a few bruises. You’re fine. Those two over there are shaken up, but they’re fine too.’ She hooked a finger in his collar to pull him closer, smoothing her palm over his cheek. He leaned into the caress, drinking her in. ‘You saved my life. You did good.’
He let her voice soothe him. ‘You’re not going out with me again.’
‘Oh yes I am,’ she said in a murmur. ‘The faster we figure this out, the faster we can get back to our lives, currently in progress.’
He huffed a low chuckle, then once again remembered the terror of hearing that glass break behind her. It had been the plate-glass window of the building’s lobby, shattering into a million tiny fragments. He probably still had glass in his hair. Which didn’t matter. Gwyn was safe. That was all that mattered.
She was safe. But she’d been targeted. Shot at. Dammit. Because of me.
‘Not your fault,’ she murmured, as if reading his thoughts. ‘But do the others know? They should take precautions.’
The others. All of their closest friends. The people who’d banded together to save his sorry ass. If one of them got hurt, lost a single drop of blood . . . I’ll never forgive myself.
‘They need to go under,’ he muttered. ‘Into a fucking bunker.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Gwyn said pragmatically. ‘Look at me.’ She tapped his cheek with one finger until he obeyed, meeting her gaze. ‘They want to help you. Clay, Stevie, Paige? Sam and Ruby? All of them investigate crime for a living. The others have done so as part of their jobs, risking their lives – and for strangers, Thorne. People that walk in off the damn street. You’re family. They are going to help you. I am going to help you. So just accept it and we’ll go on.’
Family. His heart squeezing hard, he closed his eyes and savored the feel of her palm on his cheek, her soft words in his ears.
The curtain beside them opened, revealing Phil and Jamie. Awkward to be caught in such an intimate position, Thorne lurched back and Gwyn dropped her hand to her lap. Ignoring the heating of his cheeks and the amused surprise in Jamie and Phil’s eyes, Thorne studied his old teacher carefully. Phil looked so much better that he shuddered out a relieved breath.
‘You’re okay,’ he murmured.
‘He is,’ Jamie confirmed. ‘We’re lucky.’
Phil ignored them both with an irritated wave of his hand. ‘Gwyn speaks good sense. You’re going to have to let us help you, Thorne. Are you okay, Gwyn?’
Her smile was downright sunny. ‘Right as rain. You?’
He looked annoyed. ‘Fine. But now you know my secret.’
‘We knew last night,’ Gwyn said with a shrug. ‘Nobody told me, if it makes you feel better. I’m a dirty rotten eavesdropper.’
Phil’s lips twitched. ‘You’re absolved. These two, not so much.’
‘Absolved my fucking ass.’ The curtain behind them parted, revealing a furious JD Fitzpatrick.
Gwyn winced. ‘Go easy on us,’ she whined. ‘I have a headache.’
‘You’re right as rain,’ JD parroted sarcastically. He whipped the curtain closed. ‘What the ever-lovin’ fuck, Thorne? You were specifically told not to go investigating this on your own.’ He held a finger to his lips, then pointed over his shoulder. ‘Hyatt,’ he mouthed.
Fan-fucking-tastic, Thorne wanted to growl, but he kept his mouth closed because he understood. JD was playing a part, acting angry in front of Hyatt.
He frowned. But that made no sense, because JD wasn’t supposed to be on his case at all. Conflict of interest and all that. Unless Hyatt had instructed him to get information. Thorne wouldn’t put it past the lieutenant.
But you trust JD. He’s earned it. Which was true. Hell, JD had just warned them that Hyatt was listening. So he tamped down his anger and paranoia. For now.
JD lowered his voice. ‘Seriously, guys, what the fuck?’
‘You knew what we were doing,’ Gwyn whispered, eyes narrowed.
JD rolled his eyes. ‘Not exactly,’ he whispered back. ‘Lucy and I agreed she shouldn’t tell me. Plausible deniability and all that.’ He gave all four of them the once-over. ‘You’re okay? Really?’
Gwyn shrugged. ‘A few bruises, that’s all.’
Because he’d slammed her into the ground, Thorne thought regretfully. Then tossed her into Jamie’s van like she was a sack of potatoes.
‘Stop,’ she snapped again, but less fiercely. Clearly his poker face was nonfunctional at the moment. ‘You saved my life, Thorne. A few bruises is a small price to pay.’
‘You’ve given your statement to the locals?’ JD asked.
‘Kind of,’ Thorne said with a shrug. ‘We told them we were visiting an old friend and that we got shot at.’ He pursed his lips, fighting hard against the guilt threatening to suck him back into the irrational desire to grab Gwyn, Jamie and Phil and hide on an island for the rest of their lives. ‘But it wasn’t “we”. It was Gwyn. Once I’d covered her’ – with my body, but he wasn’t going to think about that now, even though she’d felt so damn good against him – ‘there were no more shots.’
Gwyn’s eyes widened, as if the reality had just suddenly hit her. ‘You believed they’d shoot at you. But you still . . . Goddammit, Thorne. You believed you’d be hit and you made yourself a giant target?’
‘What would you have had me do?’ he snapped back. ‘Let you die?’
She inhaled sharply, her lips quivering, her dark eyes growing abruptly shiny. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘But . . . dammit, Thorne. I don’t want you hurt. I don’t take up much space. Your back is a target they could see from space.’
That was true. But that wasn’t his point. What was his point? He blinked hard, then forced himself to look at JD. ‘They stopped shooting when Gwyn was covered. They could have shot me, but they didn’t. They could have killed me Saturday night, but they didn’t.’
‘They nearly killed you Sunday morning,’ Gwyn retorted.
‘That was probably an accident,’ JD murmured to her. ‘They gave him too much GHB.’ He turned to Thorne, his face growing pale as understanding dawned. ‘I think you’re right. They don’t want to kill you, Thorne. They wanted to kill Gwyn. Because she’s important to you.’
As is Lucy went unspoken. As was everyone who’d sat in Gwyn’s living room promising to help him stay out of prison.
This . . . sucks. Suddenly exhausted, Thorne let his head fall forward. ‘I’d just give myself over if I thought it would make this stop.’
‘Thorne,’ Phil gasped. ‘Don’t you dare.’
‘Shh,’ Jamie soothed. ‘He won’t. He won’t even think about it again. Will you, Thorne?’
Thorne didn’t have the energy to argue. He went still as Gwyn’s hand smoothed over his hair. ‘No, he won’t,’ she said quietly. ‘And if he does, we’ll hide him in a bunker.’
‘I don’t think it would help anyway,’ JD said with grim resignation. ‘Whoever’s doing this is trying to fuck with your life, Thorne. Killing you is not the priority. So the only way to make it stop is to make them stop.’
Thorne didn’t look up because Gwyn was still stroking his hair and it felt so damn good. But he was listening, and he knew JD was right. ‘Then that’s what I’ll do,’ he said quietly.
Gwyn stopped stroking his hair and gave it a gentle tug. ‘Not alone, Thorne. You are not going to face this alone. The rest of us have a stake in it. I, for one, am not going to abandon you because some asshole wants to hurt you. Besides, JD’s right. That wouldn’t help anyway, because as long as you still care about us, you have a vulnerability. We’re in this with you. So suck it up, Buttercup.’
The snort of laughter escaped him before he could contain it. ‘Buttercup.’ He glanced up to see her smirking at him. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really.’ She looked up at JD. ‘What did they find at the scene?’
‘Your purse,’ he said. ‘It’ll be held for a while as evidence. You should probably cancel your credit cards and get a new driver’s license.’