Parker would quietly slip back inside like she’d been there the whole time. Hardison would barge in with a running commentary about how the vending machine coffee is a crime against humanity. And the rest of our little family is either at our house, preparing for Armageddon, or holed up at Isabel’s under lockdown.
Before I can check to see who it is, Marvin ambles into the room. He’s dressed head to toe in black, from his jeans to his long-sleeved button down to his sport coat. No star clipped to his shirt. No double belt. He’s still wearing that goddamn ugly-as-sin rodeo buckle though, and he grabs it like it’s connected right to his dick.
“Afternoon,” he says, a little too loudly.
Grace stirs in her sleep, her legs restless under the blankets, and I push to my feet, shielding her from his view.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” I demand.
His brows lift, creasing deep lines in his forehead. “Harris sent me. He figured you could use a little extra backup.”
Goddammit. I knew telling Harris about our attempt to draw out the cartel was a mistake. But he called last night, warning me APD was pushing hard to talk to Grace. I told him the story was a smokescreen, that she wasn’t going anywhere for days. Figured he’d keep that to himself. Fucker.
I narrow my eyes at Marvin. “The chief didn’t say anything to me about ‘backup.’”
Marvin shrugs and flashes me an easy smile. “He probably didn’t want to bother you.”
I straighten my shoulders, hiding the wince at the pain in my back from too many hours in the hard plastic visitor’s chair. “Yet you did?”
“Better to intrude for a minute than have Hardison tackle me in the hall.”
Grace stirs again, a soft sigh slipping from her lips. Marvin takes a step to the side, his eyes flicking to her, then back to me.
I force myself to relax. I might hate the man, but another set of eyes on Grace—or on the hallways and stairwells, at least—won’t hurt.
“Appreciate it. But keep a low profile. No need to draw attention to this room—or the neuro floor.”
Marvin nods. “Understood. I just thought…if you needed to step out for food, coffee, a shower…I’ll be around.”
A small bit of tension eases from my shoulders. Better Marvin than someone Grace doesn’t know.
“Around. But not in here. She needs rest, and visitors ain’t gonna help that.”
Marvin’s mouth ticks at the corner, like he wants to argue, but then he nods. “Fair enough. I’ll stay close. You just call me if you need anything.”
He backs toward the door, giving Grace one last glance before slipping out into the hall.
I sink back into the chair beside her bed, dragging a hand down my face. It’s been more than eighteen hours since Emi’s news story. The full moon is tomorrow. And yet no one’s made a move on our house. Zephyr’s monitoring for any online chatter, but hasn’t heard a thing.
Maybe I should call Harris and ask him to send anyone he has—hell, everyone he has—down here. Build a fucking wall of Rangers so strong around my wife that no one and nothing can ever get through.
Leaning forward, I brush my knuckles over Grace’s hand. She doesn’t stir, and I focus on the steady rise and fall of her chest.
“I got you, darlin’,” I murmur, the words rough and low enough I won’t wake her. “Don’t care who tries to get close, don’t care what it costs me—there’s nothin’ I won’t do to keep you safe. Not now. Not ever.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
AJ
Nurse Elaine pokes her head in the door. “Mr. Stone? I’m goin’ off shift soon. How’s our girl doin?”
I get to my feet, doing my best to stifle my groan. “Any chance dinner might come with some heat to it? Grace barely ate breakfast this morning. She’s got a strong aversion to bland food.”
I don’t tell the nurse that it’s PTSD. That near as we can figure, the mostly empty room with the plain wood walls she spent three goddamn years in didn’t come with salt, pepper, or any sort of flavor to whatever meals she was allowed.
“Not much I can do about that, I’m afraid. Bland is the order of the day around here. But I won’t say anythin’ if you smuggle in a bottle of hot sauce. There’s a grocery store right around the corner.” She offers me a wink, and with a quick check of the monitors, rushes off to her next patient.
I glance over at Parker, sitting cross-legged in the corner, the glow from her laptop screen tinging her cheeks.
