“No.” Angus tried to stand. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”
The EMT stood back to get out of the way. “Sir? There’s been a shooting here and you have to stay.”
Who had hit him in the temple? Who were those kids? “Listen. I have to go.”
“Not a chance,” said a low voice.
Angus turned to see Tate standing at the rear of the Jag, his bald head gleaming. “Hey. Is Scott alive?”
“Barely,” Tate said, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Step this way, Angus. Now.”
Angus caught the glint of the attacker’s gun by his foot. He walked toward Tate and away from the gun. “I’m not armed.” Which turned out to be unfortunate. He let Tate secure the weapon while he leaned against the vehicle to regain his equilibrium. “There was one shooter and one young woman with a head-splitting shovel.” He hadn’t recognized either one of them.
Tate handed the weapon over to a tech. “You’ll have to come down to the station with me and make a statement. Unless you need a doctor?”
“No. Let’s get this over with,” Angus said, wiping his bloody hands on his jeans. “You’ll need to get the CCTV from the building to identify them.”
Tate smiled, and it definitely lacked humor. “This office is owned by one of the best criminal defense attorneys in DC, and it’s across the road from a field he also owns. Do you really think there’s any CCTV to be found? No cameras, no proof.” He leaned in. “Although you’re incredibly observant, Angus Force. Something tells me you already knew that fact.”
“Wait a minute. Why would I shoot my own lawyer?” Angus asked, blood dripping into his eye.
Tate shrugged. “Insanity defense?”
Ah, hell. Angus thought through his options, although his brain was fuzzy. “Fine. I do require medical attention.” At the very least he could get his injuries on record. He stumbled toward the oncoming ambulance. Pain swamped him. Maybe he really did need a doctor.
* * *
Nari tripped walking into Jethro’s apartment. “Thanks for picking me up.” She blinked several times to become accustomed to the darkened apartment.
“No problem,” Jethro said, flipping on the lights. “I take it you didn’t win at poker?”
“No. Pippa cleaned us all out.” Maybe Nari had drunk too many margaritas, but it was worth it. For one night she’d just had fun with her friends and forgotten all about work, serial killers, and Angus Force. Speaking of whom . . . She tilted her head and heard the guest shower running. A naked Angus Force.
Roscoe padded out of the guest bedroom, his ears perked up.
Jethro sighed. “It sounds like Angus just got home. Where was he today? Do you know?”
Nari shook her head. “No. I left him a message that I was going home with Brigid and Raider after work and I haven’t heard from him. You two weren’t together?”
“No. I had class all day.” Jethro looked at the dog. “You need to go out, buddy?”
Roscoe kept walking, stopped for Nari to pet his head, and then continued through the door.
Jethro chuckled. “Don’t engage the dead bolt. The door locks automatically and I’ll use the keypad to get back in.” He left to chase the dog and shut the door. The sound of locks engaging clicked through the quiet.
Nari paused and then headed into her bedroom, turning toward the bathroom. She hiccupped. Why were she and Angus dancing around each other? They could have a relationship for now. Right? Shutting the bedroom door, she dropped her jacket on the floor and then kicked off both shoes before walking into the steam-filled bathroom.
A pair of gray sweats and a ripped blue T-shirt were on the floor. She paused. Those weren’t Angus’s clothes. “Angus?” she whispered.
“What?” he asked, sounding growly inside the shower.
Relief had her laughing out loud. “Just making sure,” she muttered, unbuttoning her blouse and throwing it toward the door. Then she shoved off her skirt and panties. Oh. Her bra. She reached behind herself to release it and struggled, finally remembering that it clasped in front. She clicked it open.
Then she padded across the thick bath mat to the walk-in shower tiled in natural, dark stone. She walked around the corner to discover Angus with one hand on the rock, his head down, hot water sluicing over his broad back. “Hello,” she said, humming at the sight of his spectacular butt.
He turned his head and his dark hair swept forward, flinging water. “What are you doing in here?”
She slid her hand down his skin, rippling over an old knife wound. “I thought you might be lonely.” The man truly did have a tough-guy, badass, strong body.
