She didn’t finish her sentence, but the words weren’t needed. Every member of the team knew exactly what would have happened had they not gotten to her hotel when they did.
“I say we use it.”
He and the others all turned Lucas’ way.
“Use it?” Emmett frowned.
Lucas gave a broad shoulder a shrug. “Why not? The way I see it, we’ve got two choices. We can either stand here, blaming ourselves for what happened, or we can use it. Try to connect more of the dots.”
“What dots?” Draven’s tone remained as hushed as the others’.
Blake leaned in a bit closer. “The security footage, for starters. But I don’t want to risk accessing it until the cops and forensic techs have cleared the scene.”
Emmett returned his attention to Janie, who’d just stood from the chair and was walking slowly in his direction. Without a word to his team, he began moving that way. The two met in the center of the suite’s living room space.
“What did the paramedics say?”
“That I’ll probably be sore for a few days, but other than that, and a black eye, I’ll live.”
Her words pulled his gaze to the place where she’d been struck. His chest tightened at the sight of her red, bruising skin.
“You should put some ice on that.”
“You mean this?” She held up a disposable ice pack he hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying.
Without thinking, he took that same hand in his and carefully guided it to her face.
“It’s not going to do much good if you don’t keep it there.”
For a handful of seconds, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. Standing. Staring. Becoming lost in their own silent thoughts.
Janie’s jaw hinged open, but she was interrupted before ever having the chance to make a sound.
“Miss Reynolds.” A man who looked to be around Emmett’s age joined them. “I’m Detective Lincoln Boone, and I’m with the Capitol Police Violent Crimes Division.”
Tall. Dark hair. A matching, well-trimmed beard. Eyes that hid a lifetime of demons.
“Nice to meet you, Detective Boone.” Janie greeted the suited man with a smile. “And please, call me Janie.”
Her smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes, which only added to the fury simmering just below the surface.
If she’d died today, her blood would have been on my hands.
“Good to meet you, too, Janie. I’m very sorry for what you’ve been through today.” Boone gave her a friendly shake before turning his attention Emmett’s way. “And you are?”
“Emmett Shaw.” The two shared a firm handshake.
“And how do you and the victim know each other?”
“I’m not a victim, Detective Boone, I’m a survivor,” Janie chimed in. “And Emmett is my . . . friend.”
“Friend,” Boone repeated the word as if he were deciding whether to believe the claim.
Friends.
They’d go with that. For now. But if this guy was worthy of the badge on his hip, he’d figure out the truth sooner rather than later.
“What happens now, Detective?” Janie asked Boone, crossing her arms at her chest.
