“Fudgesicles. Give the poor woman some space.” Wren shuffles into the room, one hand rubbing her very pregnant belly, and the other pressed to her lower back. “She’s not the enemy, remember?”
“You’re supposed to be resting.” Ryker reaches for his wife’s arm, but she shoots him a look that could cool the fires of hell.
“If you had your way, I’d never do anything but rest. I’m fine. My doctor said the baby and I were both perfectly healthy just two days ago.” Wren gives Ryker a little shove. “Get Raelynn some coffee. She looks like she needs it.”
The big man stares down at her like she’s his whole world, presses a kiss to the top of her head, and ambles into the galley kitchen, grumbling the whole way.
“I’m…fine,” I protest. But I’m suddenly so tired, my knees threaten to buckle, and I sink down onto the couch.
“You’re obviously not.” Wren lowers herself to the cushions next to me. “Ry said someone shot at you?”
I shake my head. West and Graham take seats across from us. Ryker sets a cup of coffee in front of me. I can’t look at him. At any of them. If I do, they’ll see everything. The anger. The hurt. The betrayal.
“I wasn’t the target,” I say softly, staring into the dark brew. “The guy was aimin’ at Nash’s head.”
“Who’s Nash?” Wren asks.
My cheeks catch fire. God, I wish this mug were bigger so I could hide from West’s stare. “He lives above Broadcast. I, uh, drove him home this morning. That’s the only reason he’s still alive.”
West chokes on a sip of his coffee. “You drove him home—”
I straighten and set my mug on the polished wood coffee table. “If you’re gonna give me shit, you can go straight to hell.”
The SEAL holds up his hand as Graham asks, “You bought a car?”
Ryker’s chuckle sounds more like a hoarse grunt than anything else. “That’s your first question? ‘You bought a car?’”
Graham glances from me to West to Ry and back again before understanding dawns in his eyes. “Oh. Never mind.”
“You’re going to tell me all about this guy and how you met him later,” Wren says, her lips quirking into a smile for a hot second before she reaches for her laptop. “But right now, I need his full name.”
“I…fuck.” Dropping my head into my hands, I kick myself so hard, I’ll be sore for a week. “He’s just…Nash. I never…” My eyes start to burn. “Goddammit!”
Wren wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Raelynn, breathe. We’ll figure this out. What do you know about him?”
“Nothin’ worth spit, apparently. He can fix things. Moves around a lot. Drives a Honda that’s older than dirt. And is currently parked in the garage downstairs. He’s got my rental car.” I rattle off Nash’s license number. “And he’s runnin’ from somethin’. Or someone. But that’s all I’ve got.”
“Nash Grace,” West says, and I lift my gaze. He’s holding his tablet and shows me the intake paperwork from the dojo.
“Did he list an emergency contact?” Wren’s fingers fly over her keyboard, and in under a minute, Nash’s expired driver’s license photo appears on screen.
“Nope. All I’ve got is his address above the coffee shop.” West sets the tablet down and runs a hand through his dark hair. “You didn’t leave him there, did you?”
I jerk up straighter and glare at him. “I got enough sense not to spit downwind, y’know. I sent him to my house. The shooter took off in a black BMW—I didn’t catch his plate number.”
“He make it to your place yet?” Ryker asks. “You do have cameras set up, right?”
My patience is about gone, but I manage not to roll my eyes at the man. “Yes, I have cameras. No, he’s not there yet. It’s a twenty-minute drive.” Blowing out a breath, I give voice to the fear that’s settled like a stone in my gut. “Assumin’ he ain’t on his way to Canada right now.”
Ryker pulls out his phone. His big fingers move over the screen with a grace he shouldn’t possess. “Tank? I’m sending you Raelynn’s address. Set up a perimeter—two blocks in every direction should do it—and report anything suspicious.” Hanging up, he cuts his multi-hued eyes to mine. “Gut answer, Raelynn. How much trouble is this guy in?”
I’m so tired, so utterly worn out, all my defenses fall away. “More than hell and half of Texas? I don’t know much about his past. One sister, died when he was fourteen. His folks are gone, from what I can tell. God, I’m such an idiot. I got no right to ask y’all for help—”
“Are you a member of this team?” Ryker asks, pushing to his feet so he’s towering over me. Anger lends a harsh edge to his tone and a muscle in his jaw ticks.
“Yes.” I jerk up to put us on equal footing, though I’d have to stand on the couch for us to be even close. Ryker stares at me, brows raised, daring me to challenge him. No one else moves. Even Wren’s stopped typing. “What do you want me to say? That I feel somethin’ for Nash? That I don’t know his last name, but he needs our help? That I’m scared he won’t be there when I get home and I’ll never see him again?” My voice fails me on the last word, and I’m barely holding on to a shred of control.
Ryker McCabe is the toughest man I’ve ever met, and I’m about to break down in front of him. He’ll never trust me again after today. I wouldn’t trust me either.
