Once we’re in her car, Raelynn turns and pins me with a hard stare. “Ry gave me your address. But we ain’t movin’ until you tell me who Nat is and why you’re riskin’ your life for her.”
“You try…talking with a broken rib and…a hole in your chest.”
“Been there. Done that. Try again, sugar,” she says with a sweet smile.
“Sugar?”
Her blue eyes sparkle. “In Texas, that means ‘idjit.’”
“What did McCabe…tell you?” I let my head fall back against the seat and close my eyes.
Raelynn puts the car in reverse. “Everythin’. We don’t keep secrets in this family. Wren tracked down the phone number for the resort’s owner. But I convinced her not to call it. Yet.”
I force my heavy lids open and squint in the bright mid-morning sun. “Why?”
“Nash.”
I’ve treated her enough to recognize the way her voice changes when she talks about the man she loves.
“Those pig fuckers who cut off my ear found Nash by accident. One of them was out in Seattle makin’ a deal to supply the DeLuca crime family with oxy. He ran right into us outside a coffee shop.” She shakes her head with a little huff. “If he’d come out here a month earlier…I’d still need two earrings every day. But Nash—and his father—would be dead.”
“Still doesn’t explain…”
Raelynn shoots me a look I can’t quite read. “I reckon you have some idea where Nat is. Or where she’s goin’. Ry agrees. We ain’t about to spook her until you tell us to.”
“McCabe—” A spasm of pain steals my next words. I refused a breathing treatment this morning, knowing it would keep me at the hospital at least another hour—if not two. I didn’t tell the attending I had plenty of oxygen at home. But if I don’t give myself one soon, my lung could collapse again.
“Doc? Goddammit. I’m takin’ you back to?—”
“No,” I grit out. “How long…did you have to stay…in the hospital with Nash? In Chicago?”
She eyes me warily. “‘Bout fifteen hours. Which was twelve hours too long. But you can’t string more than five words together in a row without wheezin’.”
“Which one of us has a medical degree?” I glare back at her. “And that was more than five words.”
“Stubborn idjit,” she mutters and veers off onto the West Seattle Bridge. “We can handle this, Doc. Findin’ people…it’s what we do. Just say the word.”
I choke out a laugh. “McCabe wouldn’t risk…his team…for me. Not after what I…said to him. And I’d never ask him to.”
Raelynn’s quiet until she pulls into my driveway. Before I can open the car door, she wraps her fingers around my wrist. “Ryker ain’t an easy man to know. I’ve been with Hidden Agenda for almost a year and I still can’t read him half the time. But somethin’ inside him broke that night.” Her free hand brushes the remains of her ear. “West and Inara got there first. To my place? Ry was on comms. You know how they saved me?”
“No. I never ask for details.”
“Well, tough shit. You’re gettin’ them now.” Her shoulders curl inward, and her eyes unfocus. “They had me tied to a chair. Diego Ruiz—he worked for the DeLuca family—was about to put a bullet in my knee. Inara took out Diego’s partner from the roof of the house next door. I tipped the chair over. Damn near cracked my head open. Diego shot me in the arm. The next bullet would have killed me. But West threw a goddamn knife and caught the asshole in the throat.”
“Shit.”
A shiver runs through her slim frame. “Ry had to listen to the whole thing on comms, knowin’ he couldn’t do a goddamn thing. And on the way to the warehouse, he about lost his shit on me for scarin’ the ever-lovin’ fuck out of him. He ain’t good at givin’ up control.”
“That’s a massive understatement.”
Raelynn throws her head back and laughs. “Damn straight. Yet, a week before Harlow was born, he turned Hidden Agenda over to West. We’ve taken on four jobs since, and he’s been hands off with all of them.”
I don’t know why she’s telling me all of this. Or what she expects me to say to her.
“So imagine my shock when six hours after we save your life, he moseys on into the warehouse, baby girl strapped to his chest, and tells us to make sure our go bags are packed, because the minute you pull your head out of your ass, we’re doin’ whatever it takes to find this woman you went and caught feelings for.”
If she’d revealed that McCabe was secretly an opera singer, I’d be less shocked.
