FORTY-TWO
BROOKS
“Oh fuck,”I whisper, hauling Briar against my chest and holding her tight. “Oh fuck.”
“I’m okay,” she whispers back.
There’s chaos all around us—Pascal and his team bustling around the apartment, clearing every room, searching for any surveillance equipment that may have been left behind.
Angela Rosseau.
With a fucking gun.
Angela. I should have registered the name when Briar mentioned it months ago, should have realized it was Jean-Michel’s ex and Chrissy’s mother behind all this shit…or at least mixed up in it.
But I had been far more focused on all Briar went through and bridging the gulf between us.
And now Angela had pointed a gun at the woman I loved.
“She wasn’t going to hurt me,” Briar says when I just haul her closer and try to breathe through the panic still coursing through my body.
The door is fucked and we’ll have to find somewhere else to stay for tonight.
“I know you want to believe that, but she’s insane—Attie was shot and Chrissy was almost kidnapped and Riverwastaken, and that was all because of her. And she pulled a fucking gun on you, baby.”
Briar sighs and snuggles closer. “I know.”
I wrap my arms tighter, ignoring the pain radiating down from my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says. “I was dumb. I was thinking about River and opened the door without checking who was on the other side.”
“It’s been a scary day.”
“But even if I checked, I think…”
“What?”
“I think I probably would have still let her in.”
“Briar,” I say, releasing her and leaning back enough to see her face.
Her eyes are earnest and the set of her jaw warns me to brace. “I know what she put Jean-Michel, Chrissy, and Attie through and I hate that they had to deal with it. I also know the people she keeps company with and how bad they are.” Her hand finds mine and squeezes. “But I also witnessed the violence she endured, saw the bruise on her face tonight, the way she moved like she was in pain. Whatever her part in all of this is, I don’t think it’s as straightforward as you all think.”
I smooth back her hair, know that she’s right.
As much as I hate it.
Angela protected Chrissy when she was almost taken.
Marie is convinced that she stopped her from getting hit by a car.
And Briar…well, what Briar went through was hell, but it does seem like Angela buffered her from some of the worst of it.
“I’m not saying she’s all good, but I do know that she helped me, helpedusfind our way back to each other, and”—she snags the envelope off the island, hands it to me—“if this really does have something on it that will protect us, then she’s helped us again. So…can we just maybe reserve judgment until we know more?”
“Yeah, Raindrop, we can do that.”
Her face goes soft and she shifts closer, wrapping her arms around me. “Thank you,” she whispers.
