Shay was standing a few yards away, still waiting for Tiffany to come out of the house and exchanging texts with Izzy. He’d sent a couple of really awful photos of Daryl Middleton—his face bruised and stitched and swollen as he lay, still unconscious, in that hospital bed. She’d already emailed them to Maddie, and gotten Lindsey to text them, too, in hopes that the girl would turn her phone back on sooner rather than later.
“Well, I think it’s fair to be a mess when your mother dies in a car accident,” Pete told Frank.
“Yeah, well, if my mom died, I sure as shit wouldn’t start selling drugs.”
“Language.” Tevin policed his little brother.
“We don’t know that Maddie’s the one selling the drugs,” Pete said evenly.
“Well, I wouldn’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend or even just a friend who sells drugs,” Frank insisted.
“You have no idea what you would or wouldn’t do if Mom died,” Tevin chastised his brother. “Don’t be so judgmental.”
“We don’t even know that it’s drugs that’s behind these threats,” Pete said. “We’re making an assumption.”
Frank veered into new hostile territory. “So when did you and Maddie’s mom get divorced?” he asked.
“We split when Maddie was a baby. Her mom and I weren’t married,” Pete said. “I asked, but…She didn’t want to marry me.”
“Why, because you’re, like, a serial killer?”
“Frank,” Tevin said. He rolled his eyes at Pete. “Sorry. Frankie’s in a douchey mood. He had a hot date with Dad’s flatscreen TV. Tiffany lets him watch Game of Thrones, and Mom doesn’t.”
Boom.
Fuck, was that a gunshot?
Peter sharply looked up and a truck—black, big—was at the end of the street, moving in their direction at much too fast a clip.
“Get down!” he shouted and the two boys, no doubt well trained by life in this sorry world of potential school shooters—immediately sheltered behind their mother’s car.
But Shay was still standing in the middle of the yard, her phone in her hands. She was caught up in her task and oblivious, and Pete ran toward her—it was possible he’d never moved faster in his entire life. He threw himself forward just as the vehicle went past, putting his body between her and whoever was in that truck, as he grabbed her and shielded her, and took her with him down to the ground.
Boom.
And this time, he heard it for what it was—an engine backfire. And as he turned to look, he saw that yeah, the truck that had passed was big and black, but it was far older, with sharper angles and an ancient, obviously shittier engine, than the truck he’d seen, and the truck Mrs. Quinn had described to the police.
“Oh, my God, Peter!” For the second time in just a few hours—the third time in two days—Shay’d been knocked off her feet.
This time, though, Pete hadn’t tried to do what he’d done on that sidewalk outside Daryl Middleton’s old apartment, and land between her and the ground. This time he’d landed on top of her, intentionally, to protect her from an active shooter.
She still hadn’t realized that the noises they’d heard were from a malfunctioning engine, and now she feared he’d been hit and wounded. Probably because he was lying there motionless, like a fool. She scrambled out from beneath him—it was possible he was more stunned than she was—checking for blood even as she called out to her sons. “Tevin, Frank, are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good, are you?” Tevin asked as Frank squeaked, “Mommy!”
“I’m okay, baby,” she called back.
Frank’s fear turned to anger. “What the hell was that?”
“Don’t be dead,” Shay muttered as she tried to roll Pete over. “Please, please, please, don’t be dead.”
“I’m not, I’m not.” Pete sat up and caught her hands, “I’m okay. Jesus, I’m so sorry.” He called to the boys, “Sorry, guys, false alarm. I’m a little on edge. The men we’ve been dealing with have a black truck. I saw that one, it backfired, and I should’ve known what the noise was, but I just reacted. Overreacted.”
“You scared me to death!” Shayla kissed him, and as he kissed her back, he heard Tevin say, “Whoa!”
Frank started to say something, but it was possible Tevin had clapped a hand over the younger boy’s mouth.
But right now was definitely not the right time for Pete to kiss Shayla the way he really wanted to, so instead he pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I’m okay,” he confirmed. “You okay?”
Shay nodded and exhaled hard. “It’s been a really intense few days,” she told her sons as Pete helped her back to her feet. “Which is why we’re going to do this whole safe house thing. Spend the weekend with our heads down, just watching movies, all right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tevin said. He gave her a hug.
Meanwhile, Frank was still looking hard at Pete. “You thought that whoever was in that truck was gonna shoot Mom.”
“I did,” he admitted. “I got scared. I should’ve known that sound was just a backfire, but—”
“If they had been shooting, you’d be dead,” Frank pointed out. “Doing what you did? Running toward her like that?”
“Maybe, but your mother would be alive.”
“So, you’re saying you’d die for her? I mean, you’re not saying it—you did it, and everyone’s always telling me that actions speak louder than words. It was like you’re her secret service agent, or her bodyguard. You were ready to die for her.”
“Frank,” Shay said.
“No, it’s okay,” Pete said. He looked at Frank. “You got a problem with that?”
“Shit, no!” Frank said.
“Language,” Shay said on a sigh.
He glanced at her. “Sorry, ma’am.” Back to Pete: “I’m just trying to figure it out. You’re ready to die for her, and you’re all kissing-her-on-the-front-lawn, but you just met her.”
“Yeah,” Pete said. “But, look at her. She’s pretty fucking great.” He glanced at Shayla. “Sorry, ma’am.” Back to Frank: “I mean, you and Tevin both know that.”
Frank was finally smiling and he now held out his hand. “Pete,” he said. “I do believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”
As they shook hands, Shayla said, “Pete? I think you might want to call him Lieutenant Greene.”
Frank turned his smile onto his mother and shrugged expansively. “He told us to call him Pete. I gotta do what the man says.”
“Someone please help me with this bag.” Tiffany had finally emerged from the house, oblivious to the drama as she locked the door behind her. Tevin leapt to get her luggage and wrestle it to the car. “It’s all files from work plus my laptop. Project’s due on Monday.” She smiled at Shay. “I can borrow clothes, if I need ’em, right?”
“Frankie’s more your size,” Shay said diplomatically, “but sure. Clothes yes, computer never.”
“See, I knew that,” Tiffany said.
Meanwhile, Frank had turned back to Pete. “So what was it? Like, love at first sight?”
“Oh, my God, Frankie,” Shayla said. She actually clapped her hands at her son, as if he were a misbehaving puppy. Pete tried not to laugh. “Just get in the car! Everyone into the car! Now!”
“It’s really okay,” Pete told her as they all climbed in. He turned to look back at Frank. “More like at first conversation. Don’t get me wrong. Your mother’s beautiful, but…That brain, that amazing mind inside of her brilliant head…That’s what you look for in a woman.” He glanced at Tevin. “In a person.”