‘So your contact harassed Bernice Brown’s friend?’ JD clarified.
‘Or at least someone used the contact’s number to do so,’ Alec challenged. ‘There are spoofing sites that will allow you to mask your call with another number. They didn’t have to have his actual phone.’
‘I know,’ Thorne said. ‘That’s how I message him. His returned texts are forwarded from my disposable cell to this phone.’ He held up his smartphone. ‘I got a message from him while you all were gone. He says he’s fine and asks why I’m asking.’
‘Tell him you want to meet,’ Frederick ordered.
Thorne nodded stiffly. ‘That’s what I was planning to do.’
‘But you’re not going to the meeting place,’ Paige said, watching him. ‘Because whoever made that call might be there waiting. You’re going to his house.’
‘That was my plan, yes.’
Everyone went quiet, considering it.
Finally JD spoke. ‘Send your message, Thorne. I’m going with you to the contact’s house.’
Thorne surprised Gwyn by nodding again. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Tell Joseph and Hyatt to have boots on the ground at the meeting place, just in case we luck out and Tavilla shows up. They’ll want to be sure they have surveillance and enough cameras to film anyone passing through the meeting area. If it’s not Tavilla but one of his goons, we’ll want to capture their faces.’
‘Good plan,’ Clay said. ‘What can we do?’
‘Just . . .’ Thorne’s voice went husky. ‘Just don’t get killed. Please. I can’t live with that. Not again.’
Gwyn knew he was thinking of Sherri, his first love, killed because she’d stood with him when nobody else had. And of course he was thinking of the shootings today. Even if the shooter had missed, he’d come so very close to both her and Stevie. ‘We’ll be careful,’ she insisted.
He nodded once, unconvinced. ‘Okay.’
She lowered her voice, leaning in to whisper in his ear. ‘And we will talk about this. Later. In private. You will not keep things from us. From me.’
She watched the clench of his jaw, the way his throat worked as he swallowed convulsively. And she sighed. This need to keep them safe was ripping him apart, and that was the last thing she wanted. ‘Look,’ she whispered. ‘You are important, Thorne. To me. I promise not to get myself killed, if you do the same. Can we at least agree on this?’
She felt his small shudder and suddenly wished they were alone so that she could put her arms around him and give him what he needed. Whatever that was. But he’d already pulled away, physically and emotionally, and the knowledge . . . hurt.
Rubbing his hands down his thighs, he stood up. ‘I’m going to text him now. I’ll be back.’
Fuck, she thought miserably. He could text from right here. Next to me. But he was practically race-walking from the room. Away from me.
Could she blame him? He’d declared his . . . feelings, whatever label they bore. She’d pushed him away, then told him he was important to her. The lamest thing ever. And she still expected him to share with her?
Well . . . yes. I do. Because we’re still friends. But the words echoed dully in her head, and her throat thickened. Aren’t we? Can we be?
She was terrified that she already knew the answer to that question. Remaining where she was, she watched him leave the room and felt a piece of her heart crumble.
She glanced over at Lucy, who looked sad. Their eyes met, Lucy’s full of sympathy and helplessness. Gwyn looked away, focusing on the handgun she still held but feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. All on her.
A strong arm slid around her shoulders. Sam. ‘Give him a few minutes to get his head on straight, Gwyn,’ he murmured kindly. ‘You know this kind of shit is hard on him. He feels like he has to be Superman. This has got to be his worst nightmare.’
Carefully she flipped the safety on the handgun. ‘I know.’ Pointing the barrel down, she slid off the arm of the loveseat and gave the gun back to Clay. ‘What will you do about your fence?’ she asked him.
‘We repaired it already,’ he told her, but there was sympathy in his eyes too. ‘And now we know where we need to beef up security.’
‘The woods gave us a false sense of safety,’ Stevie added. ‘We’ll be installing more cameras. We tried motion detectors once, but that was hard because we have deer back there and they kept setting them off.’
Gwyn felt her stomach lurch. These people – good people – felt the need to take such drastic measures simply to protect themselves and their families. And why? Because they’d stood up against criminals. And now they were threatened again. Because of their friendship with Thorne.
Sam was right. This was Thorne’s worst nightmare. And I’m being selfish, my feelings hurt because he walked away from me. Because he needed more from her than demands that he be upfront with information.
He needed more than her assurances that he was ‘important’ to her. Because he was. He was . . . he was everything.
She wanted to say something to him. She needed to say something to him. But no words would come.
Then make the words come, girl. And do it fast. He’s hurting, and . . .
And God only knew what he was planning. The man truly did believe that he was Superman. Because he usually is. Bigger than life, he always seemed invincible. But he’s not. He’s just a man. An amazing man. A handsome, strong man who made her feel safe and warm and . . . loved. He loves me. And somehow she’d always known that, down deep where it was . . . what? Safe?
Yes. Safe. And loving him back? Not so safe.
But you do love him. You know you do. You always have.
Yes, yes, she had. She’d also known that. Also down deep where it was . . .
Safe? the voice in her head mocked her. She had learned that there was no such thing as true safety. There was hiding and there was living. And through all of it, there had been Thorne. So tell him, for God’s sake. Don’t be such a fucking coward.
She felt lightheaded at the notion. Why is this so hard?
‘Gwyn, honey.’ Lucy’s voice was soft in her ear, but the smack to Gwyn’s back wasn’t. Her best friend had thwacked her a good one with the palm of her hand. ‘Breathe, girl. You need to breathe.’
Gwyn sucked in some air, then realized she’d been standing in the middle of the room staring at Clay and Stevie but not hearing a word they’d said. Nobody was saying anything now. The room had grown painfully quiet.
Her cheeks were suddenly on fire. ‘I hate this day,’ she muttered.
Lucy huffed a chuckle. ‘I know. Me too. Come. Let’s go somewhere quiet.’
Annapolis, Maryland,
Monday 13 June, 7.00 P.M.
‘Hey,’ Kathryn shouted.
He held the phone away from his ear with a wince. Kathryn always had to yell over the pounding beat of the music. He hated her job. Hated that she had to be there night after night. ‘Are we ready?’
‘Absolutamente,’ she said.
He could hear the grin in her voice and it made him smile. ‘Excellent. Patton has completed his task.’ His aide had dropped the carved-up bodies at the Circus Freaks’ front door, just as he’d asked. ‘Let me know when everything is complete.’
‘I will. See you tonight if I’m lucky.’
‘You will be lucky,’ he said firmly. There was no way he was allowing her to spend the night in any jail. Her place at night was with him. Soon her job would be over and she’d be back in his bed every night, just as nature intended.
‘Then open a bottle of wine and run me a bubble bath. I’m going to need it.’
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Monday 13 June, 7.15 P.M.
Lucy led Gwyn into the Maynards’ dining room and pulled at the pocket door, sliding it closed as Gwyn sank into a chair and covered her burning face with her hands. ‘God. How long was I standing there like an idiot?’