His face twisted into a grimace, and she let out a burst of laughter. When a car came down the ramp and headed their way, they all turned to watch it approach. It was a limousine, which meant it was probably Ray’s father. She cringed. Couldn’t he have tried to be just a little more subtle?
Kit let out a low whistle, but Sloane just stared, a dark expression bleeding into the features of his face.
The driver got out first—because of course he’d brought his driver—then went to the back and opened the door. Luther climbed out and headed their way, his face unreadable. When he reached them, he glanced at Sloane before his gaze swung to Ray’s, and his eyes narrowed as they fixed on the bruising on her face.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Ray nodded. “I’m fine, Dad.”
He nodded to her cheek. “You don’t look fine.”
In all honesty, Ray had been ignoring the throb in her face because she’d been so concerned with the fact that Sloane had been shot, but now that her dad had pointed out her injury, the pain seemed to increase.
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
“And Thomas?” her father asked, his gaze swinging now to Sloane.
“Dead,” Sloane said.
“You kill him?” he asked.
Sloane shook his head. “Unfortunately not.”
Her father nodded to Sloane’s shoulder. “You were shot.”
“Flesh wound,” Sloane said.
Ray rolled her eyes. What was it with Sloane and her father that they could only seem to communicate with one another in clipped sentences? Would it kill them to hold a proper conversation using words with more than a couple of syllables?
“You didn’t tell me you’re FBI.”
“You didn’t ask,” Sloane returned.
“Fair enough. And you’re SWAT?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for saving my daughter’s life today.”
Sloane’s eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“I’m still grateful.”
Sloane gave him a chin lift.
A moment later, another car came barreling down the ramp then screeched to a stop in front of the limousine.
Sloane’s mom got out.
“Mybaby!” she cried, running up to their little group.
“Mom,” Sloane said, with a much put-upon sigh.
But his mother ran straight past him and charged up to Ray instead, pulling her into her arms, and hugging her tightly against her chest. Ray blinked at her father over Sylvia’s head, and he stared back at her, eyes wide with surprise.
Sylvia pulled back and held Ray at arm’s length.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Did he hurt you?” She looked at Ray’s bruised face and gasped.
