Gil wasn’t amused or annoyed. Zane was right, and they hada plan and Ivy had agreed to it, so it was time to get Ivy home. “We’re headed out. Luke and Faith, you coming?”
They didn’t talk on the elevator, but when they stepped out and split off to their respective cars, Faith pulled away from Luke and walked straight to Gil. Without making eye contact, she put her arms around him and squeezed him tight. “Don’t get shot.”
He squeezed her back. “I’ll do my best.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She released him and, still without looking at him, walked to Luke, who tucked her against his side, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and directed her to his car.
Ivy didn’t comment on the exchange until they were in his car and on the road. “Did she really see you get shot?”
“Yep.”
Ivy chewed on her lip before whispering, “She can be a little scary.”
“Faith sometimes comes across as brusque, but there’s a lot of depth to her and lots of emotion she rarely shows. The more emotion she’s feeling, the more likely she is to come across as tough and unfeeling. And clearly, there’s a lot of emotion wrapped up in this.”
“Did you know she has nightmares about it?”
“Didn’t have a clue. She probably wouldn’t have ever mentioned it if she hadn’t believed I was in danger.”
“I’m sure that’s part of it, but I’m guessing you’ve been in danger since then and it hasn’t come up.” Ivy reached for his hand. “I think it’s more that she wouldn’t have said that if she hadn’t believed I was in danger of seeing the same thing.”
Gil let that settle around him. It made sense. Faith knew what he did. Knew what dangers he regularly accepted. Anyone in law enforcement had to accept that getting shot was a possibility.
But Ivy seeing him get shot? No. That wasn’t something Faith would want for her.
“She’s a good friend to you.”
“She is. And she’s trying to be a good friend to you too.”
“I used to think friends were always nice to you, but these days, I think the best friends will see you doing something stupid, call you on it, and still like you.”
“I would agree with that assessment.” He squeezed her hand and opened her car door. She slipped into the seat with a grimace.
When he’d joined her in the car and pulled out onto the road, he asked, “Are you hurting? Zane told me he grabbed you too hard.”
“Oh, good grief.” He could hear the exasperation in her voice. “Do they inject you with an overprotectiveness serum when you take your oath to be a Secret Service agent?”
“What?”
“Zane treats me like I’m glass.”
“He knows you aren’t glass. Zane’s default is to treat women with a great deal of deference. And it isn’t because he thinks women are weak or inferior. It’s the exact opposite. He firmly believes that the more you value someone, the more carefully you should treat them. He had to hurt you in order to protect you. And he did it because he’s well trained and highly motivated and capable of putting aside his aversion to putting his hands on a woman when it’s necessary to preserve her life. But that doesn’t mean that when it’s over, he doesn’t struggle with it.”
“Well, then, that’s good, I guess.”
Time to get them into safer territory. “What do you have on your calendar for tomorrow night?”
In his peripheral vision, her head snapped in his direction. “Tomorrow night?”
“Yeah. I know you didn’t have ‘run from shooter’ penciled inon your calendar for today, but if all this wasn’t happening, what would you be doing tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow’s Thursday?”
“Yeah.”
