Page 39 of Grant’s Heat

We were out in the hall before he spoke again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then his temples and forehead. When he finally looked down at me, his blue eyes were lined with stress and full of agony. “I should have told you those details before now.”

I stopped our slow-paced walk to turn a confused look up at him. “Why are you apologizing? None of this is your problem, Grant.”

“You shouldn’t have heard all that”—he thumbed over his shoulder toward the meeting room—“for the first time in a setting like that. It was heartless.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I answered flatly.

“Doesn’t matter?” he croaked. “How can you say that?”

“There’s no heart left in here.” I thumped on the center of my chest and finally looked away. “How don’t you get that by now?”

“Don’t say that.” The emotion in his voice compelled me to focus on his face again, but I couldn’t remain that way for long. There were so many feelings vying for dominance of his features, though I couldn’t figure out which ones exactly. I wasn’t sure I was in any condition to know anyway.

“Truth too much to handle?” I said instead. Bitter and sassy always served me well when the heartstrings were pulled too tightly. At the moment, mine were stretched tighter than a violinist’s bow—though the concerto they played was probably some avant-garde thing, since I immediately swung from the heights of anger to the valley of tenderness inside two seconds. The result of that swoop was my soft, trembling murmur. “Thank you for putting Shark in his place. I’m not sure I can be responsible for my actions around him today.”

“I figured as much,” Grant muttered. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about all that ugliness with him too.”

“Why?” I folded my arms. “You’re not the bastard’s keeper.”

“Yeah, but I saw the minute things were going south in there. But that man just doesn’t know when to stop sometimes. I’m not sure how much longer to expect this to go,” he said with a sigh. “Do you want me to tell them I have to take you home? I think you being here is really just a courtesy. Bas is the one who has to sign the report since he owns the company. Sean was acting as a legal representative of Shark Enterprises at the time of his death. That’s why they keep citing the logs and shit.”

“Thank you, but no. Let’s go back in and finish this up. The sooner it’s over, the sooner I can go home.”

We took a few steps in the direction of the meeting room, but I stopped again. “Grant?” I put my hand on his forearm. Even that part of him was a strong rope beneath my touch, my personal lifeline at a moment when I needed it the most. I kept my grip there while waiting for him to turn back and give me his full attention. Once he locked his intense sapphire stare down on me, I murmured, “Thank you.”

His forehead creased. “For what?”

“For knowing me so well. There are times you know what I need before I do. Or at least before I’m ready to admit what I need.” I pulled in a long breath, and this time it felt calming. Cleansing. “You’re an excellent friend. This whole mess has made me realize how few of those I actually have.”

“You’re welcome, Blaze. And thank you…for letting me be here for you. I consider it an honor. Honestly.”

He opened his arms, and I stepped in closer, letting myself cherish the strength of his solid, warm embrace. But just as quickly, I pulled back. “Let’s get this over with,” I said, pivoting and tugging open the door to the conference room.

Once we were settled back inside and everyone had taken their seats, I cleared my throat, making it evident that I needed to say something. “I’m very sorry for all of that, everyone. Unfortunately, that was the first time I had heard most of those details, and it affected me adversely, as I’m sure you can imagine.” I looked around to each attendee and tried to keep a pleasant smile on my face. “Please, do continue.”

One of the officers, a third man who hadn’t yet spoken much, pursed his already-thin lips. “Mrs. Gibson, on behalf of the City of Los Angeles, I truly apologize. We were not aware that you were not privy to the incident details. We would’ve been happy to provide some type of support for you, had we known. If you’d like to postpone this meeting until those arrangements can be made…”

“No,” I protested, waving my hand. “I’m fine now. I’d really like to just finish up here if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I understand. We’re almost done, actually.” The officer scanned the report for a few moments and then began reading again. “Our investigation is limited to only what happened at the construction site itself. Once the paramedics arrived and began assessment, treatment, and transportation, the resultant events were recorded by those respective teams. Meaning, of course, the ambulance company and the hospital.”

The officer moved over the document line by line with his index finger until he came to the information he needed.

“Ah, yes. Here it is. I believe Mr. Gibson was transported to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center?”

“Yes.” Somehow, even through the chaotic memories bombarding me, I managed to nod. “That’s correct.”

“I can give you the contact information of the case manager there, if you need that. I realize it’s a huge facility, and it can be like finding a needle in a haystack when you are trying to find one particular person.”

He finished with a kind smile, but I couldn’t force myself to return the gesture this time. My mind was too consumed with a nagging thought. A dogged hunch that swiftly intensified into a possibility—and then into gut-wrenching logic…

And before I knew it, I was actually spurting out that troubling theory.

“You know, Officer…I was just thinking of something you said that doesn’t quite make sense.” I tilted my head. “Do you know if the equipment on the job site goes through routine maintenance checks? And, if it does, when was the last time the machine involved in this particular accident had maintenance performed on it? Additionally, who did that inspection and maintenance? Do you keep records of those things?”

Sebastian’s sigh was one of annoyance. I wanted to wheel around and call him out for his asshole behavior, but the man himself took care of quashing any interjections I could possibly issue. “Yes, all the machinery, vehicles, and equipment are inspected per OSHA standards. Logs are kept accordingly, as well. Where is this line of questioning going?”

As he shot a glance at Grant, it occurred to me that maybe to him, I was asking dumb questions. But Grant kept his eyes trained on me, lending the fortitude I needed to stand firm and connect the dots.