"Evie is being followed by dangerous people. I told her to stay in the locked car." I rotated a glare down to her, and she held it, her brows twitching together with a hint of indignation.
"She didn't tell me that," Micah frowned.
"You should get that looked at," I said, gesturing to what looked like a small cut on his temple. "I need to get Evie to safety."
Micah folded his arms, and I realized the guy rivaled my build but stockier. "Why weren't you with her, then?"
Evie covered her face. "This is my fault."
"She can fill you in later. I can't wait around for more to show up." I guided her toward the cars. "We'll be in touch. Sorry."
Micah clenched his jaw, glaring. "What do I do with these?"
"Personally?" I kicked the gunman in the ribs, causing him to groan. "I'd leave them in the rain. But if it's safer for your business, you can call the police. Just do us a favor and don't involve Evie in it."
Micah gestured to the camera pointed at the back door area. "They'll review that footage if I do. Just go. I'll handle them."
That sounded reassuringly ominous. I made a mental reminder to text Remington, letting him know to not send in the cavalry and giving him the names of the store and its owner in case Micah needed a solid. "Thanks."
Micah shook his head in disgust, planting his hands on his hips and staring at the men on the ground. I rushed Evie past them, stopping only to grab the taser before I bustled her into her own car. She obliged, but as I stood over her, arm braced against the frame and ready to shut the door for her, she grabbed my soggy shirt. "Wait… you want me to drive?"
"We can't leave your car here." I took in the tremors in her fingers and the pallor of her skin. "But if you can't?—"
"I can." She pressed the ignition button with fumbling fingers.
I stared at her, my skin still warm with anger. Maybe the drive would cool me down because right now I wanted to—I didn't know. Something. Something physical. Something that would wrap her up tight and punish her… or punishsomeone. I couldn't decide who. Shaking my head and scattering rain droplets, I shut her door and stomped off to my car, my eyes flitting over our surroundings for any hint that another team might be on their way to her.
But then we were safely on the road, and I watched her taillights through theschwickof the windshield wipers. My fury only seemed to rise in my blood, going from a low simmer to a roiling boil by the time we made it to her gate.
What had she been thinking? Why get out of the car when sheknewit was dangerous? Why put Micah in danger? Why put herself in that situation at all? For soap, mind you. Soap.
She rolled slowly down her driveway, and I checked my rearview mirror and the thick forest as we did. No followers. Remington texted me back with a thumbs up and an "all clear." I shook my head, shoving my phone in my pocket. When we came to a stop in front of her barn-style home, I killed the ignition and got out first, barely feeling the pinpricks of cold from the driving rain. She started to open her door, and I caught it, my arm stretching out and stopping her from exiting. She looked up at me, the wet strands of her wavy hair framing her features and her hazel eyes more gray than brown in the gloomy light.
She stared, trying to read my scowl. "You're upset."
"I'm furious," I hissed. Rain was running into my eyes, catching on my eyelashes and pooling between my lips. I swiped my face in frustration. "You could have died."
"I don't think they would have killed me," she offered weakly.
Rain drummed on the roof of her car, tinny and loud in the ensuing pause. I was so angry, I could barely formulate the words. "But they could kill Micah," I said finally.
Her breath hitched, and she straightened defensively. "You don't have to be cruel."
I bent down to look her in the eyes. "It's not cruel. It's true."
Her dusty, light brown eyebrows drew together a fraction, and for the first time, she looked close to anger herself. "That might be, but you don't have to lecture me. I know it was dangerous."
"It doesn't do any good if you know itafter," I insisted angrily, straightening and almost giving into the impulse to stalk away. I let go of the door, hoping that if she went inside, I could stand in the rain until my blood turned to ice. As it was, I couldn't think straight—it was like all the ugly emotions like anger and fear andsomething elseI didn't dare name were flying over my head, and I had no hope of catching any of them right now. They were making me dizzy.
Instead, she got out, and short though she was, she stood toe to toe with me in the rain, her chin up and her eyes flashing. "I regret it. Is that what you want to hear?"
"I want to hear that youcareabout your own safety, Evelyn," I countered angrily, my heart ricocheting around in my ribs uncomfortably. She could have died. She could have been hurt. Didn't she see what that was doing to me? And why, for that matter,wasit affecting me so much?
I didn't care about people this deeply. That was my flaw. My Achilles heel. The death to any and all meaningful relationships in my life. That was my armor.
She poked me in the chest. "Who areyouto care about my safety enough to lecture me about it?"
I caught her finger. "I'm responsible for you. It's my job to keep you safe right now—or did you forget that's why I've been sleeping on your couch?"
