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Grimly, he nodded.

Only it was worse than that. Her hands flew out and fisted in his shirt front. That hadn’t been her car. It had been his. And he could easily have been inside with her. “Someone is trying to kill us.” She’d done this. She’d brought Hunter into this nightmare. She’d thought she needed a bodyguard, but what happened if her bodyguard got hurt? Or…killed?

Her hands stopped fisting in his shirt, and Shelby tried to shove him back. “You need to get away from me.” This had been a mistake. All a terrible, terrible mistake. She should have left the past alone.

Now Hunter was in danger.

And what about Tiffany? Am I responsible for what happened to her?

Shelby pushed against Hunter. Harder. “Get away,” Shelby pleaded as she blinked away tears.

But he didn’t budge an inch. In fact, he leaned closer. “That shit is just not gonna happen.”

Chapter Eighteen

She was shaking again.

Hunter’s jaw tightened even more as he braked the rental car in front of their destination. A house that was supposed to be the safest in the area, at least according to Declan. His buddy had pulled some serious strings and gotten this location for Hunter and Shelby.

They’d been tied up with the police. Answering question after question after question. The cops had been suspicious as hell of them, and that had just grated on his last nerve. Not like Hunter had bombed his own car.

I left Shelby in the SUV. I left her there, and I could have watched her die there.

Fucking fuck.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“I…think you should leave town.” Her husky voice.

Breathe, Hunter. Breathe. In and out. In and out.

“I made a mistake going to your office in New Orleans. I didn’t consider the danger that you would be in.” She sounded absolutely miserable, and he hated that. “I only thought of myself. Of what I needed. That was selfish. I’m sorry.”

Was she fucking serious? No way. Could not be.

“I gathered from your phone calls that you had your friend Declan arrange this safe house for us, and I appreciate it.”

Fantastic. Wonderful. He killed the headlights. Night had fallen, and darkness settled heavily around the two-story house on the edge of Hathaway. It was a safe house, all right. More like a safe fortress. A giant wall surrounded the whole property, and Hunter had needed to input a security code in order to open the gate. He’d driven past a range of cameras as he eased toward his destination.

The previous occupant had been very, very security focused. Something Hunter could respect.

“We can sleep here tonight because I’m sure you are exhausted,” she continued.

Nope. He wasn’t exhausted. Wired. Pissed. Correction, furious, not exhausted. He wanted to go out and destroy. To completely annihilate someone, but, no, he wasn’t tired. Truly not in the mood to sleep.

To destroy? To raise some serious hell? Oh, yes, he was definitely in the mood to do just that.

“In the morning, you can take the rental car and leave.”

She could not be serious. Had the woman hit her head when the explosion had sent her hurtling into the air? She’d been checked out thoroughly by the EMTs—Hunter had insisted on that check even as Shelby had protested and told everyone repeatedly that she was fine. The EMTs had cleaned and bandaged up the graze on her arm, but they hadn’t indicated that they’d discovered any other sort of injury on her.

She’d been lucky. The luckiest woman in the world. Because her bodyguard sure as shit hadn’t saved her. She’d saved herself…by sheer luck. If she hadn’t opened that SUV’s door and come after him…

“I can get a rental of my own. No need to be concerned about me. It’s time for us to go our separate ways.”

Oh, precious. She was still talking. Rambling. Spouting utter bullshit. Infuriating him more with every sweet word.

“I’ll pay you what is owed,” Shelby continued in her ever-so-earnest tone. “And I want you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”