Chapter 35
Trevor
“I’m fine. It was through and through.” I try to plead my case again. I know it’s a futile endeavor, but Maren has been glaring at me for the past hour while I wait for a doctor to come bandage me up. I’m starting to worry she’s actually plotting ways to get back at me.
And I’m both thrilled and terrified of what she’ll come up with.
“You should have stayed where you were.” She scowls at what’s left of my ruined pants. “Then we wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for someone to bring you a Band-Aid.”
I lift one hand, raising my pointer and middle fingers. “Two Band-Aids. Through and through, remember?”
Maren scans the room. “Do you think anyone would freak out if I screamed in here? Because I really feel like I want to scream.”
“Pretty sure that’s frowned upon.” I reach out, catching her hand and bringing it to my lips. “As soon as we’re done, I’ll take you home and you can stand in the backyard and scream your head off.” I hide my smile behind her knuckles. “I’m sure Ruth will want to join you.”
I’m not the only one in the dog house right now. Just the only one confined to a hospital bed.
Luckily, I’m also the only one who was hit by the gunfire a single shooter rained down on our lot until a member of our security team took him out.
Lindsey was also injured, but Maren explained the cut through her brow was apparently the result of a spill she took thanks to Ruth’s quick thinking.
Unfortunately, since I was taken away by ambulance pretty quickly, I’m not quite sure where Lindsey ended up.
Hopefully here getting stitched up.
Finally, my nurse and the doctor come in, spending an extraordinary amount of time cleaning my wound.
It’s already been determined nothing of any importance was damaged, so no surgery is required.
I’m a little surprised when they don’t stitch my wounds—apparently that can trap bacteria inside and raises the risk of infection.
They simply slap a bandage around my calf, hand over a prescription for antibiotics and another for pain, then send me on my way.
Since my pants are now missing a leg thanks to the medics who stabilized my wound and transported me to the hospital, my dad brought me a change of clothes.
Maren helps me out of my ruined slacks and into the running shorts my dad was smart enough to choose.
Once my button up is replaced with a T-shirt and a pair of sneakers is tied on, I grab the hospital-issued crutches I’m required to use until my follow-up visit, and slowly make my way to the entrance.
My dad pulls up, and I angle myself into the back seat next to Maren, pulling her close to my side as we drive away.
Whatever pain medicine they gave me must have drowsiness as a side effect, because I doze off, not realizing it until I jerk awake to find we’re pulling into our driveway.
My mother opens the front door as I slowly work my way up the steps, waiting until I’m fully inside before wrapping her arms around me and squeezing tight. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“He’s an idiot is what he is.” Maren is still glaring, but it doesn’t hold quite as much venom as before. “Tell him to never do anything that stupid again.”
My mother releases me and turns to Maren, her expression soft but stern. “I’ll do no such thing.”
Maren’s jaw drops. “What? Why not?”
She was clearly expecting my mother to be on her side. Honestly, I kind of was too.
“Because I would have done the same thing if I was in his place.” My mother reaches out, taking Maren’s hands in hers. “And so would you.” She gives Maren a small smile. “Because when someone who matters to you is scared and needs help, you do whatever it takes to make sure they’re okay.”
Maren’s eyes flick to me before going back to my mom. “But I was fine. I wasn’t in danger until I had to go save his ass.”
“How could he have known you were going to be fine?” My mother shakes her head. “That’s not the kind of situation where you assume everything will be okay.”
Maren presses her lips together, probably because she wants to say more, but has figured out arguing with my mother is futile.
As much as I’m enjoying this bonding moment they’re having, I’ve reached my limit. Between the adrenaline crash, the drugs, and the stress of everything that happened, my ability to remain upright is severely lacking. “I need to sit down.”
Maren and my mom help me get to the great room, positioning me on the couch as Zara watches from where she’s playing with her plastic ponies on the floor. Once I’m settled with my foot propped up, she gets to her feet and carefully makes her way to my side.
“Nana DeeDee said you got hurt.” Her dark eyes fix on the bandage at my calf. “What happened?”
“I fell down.” That did happen. “And ended up with an injury on my leg.” Also technically true.
I hate lying to Zara, but there’s no fucking way I’m explaining to a five-year-old that I was shot by a currently unidentified man who was also aiming at her sister.
I can’t tell if she believes me, but Zara doesn’t press the issue further. Instead, she climbs up onto the couch next to me, bringing along a few of her ponies. She curls up against my side, continuing to play, using the throw pillows and my legs as her new pretend pasture.
I accidentally doze off again, jerking awake at the sound of voices filling my home. I swear my house has had more people in it in the last two weeks than all the years up to this point.
And tonight it’s full.
My mom and dad are still here, along with Maren, but now the rest of my brothers and cousin have arrived, bringing along their significant others and kids. It’s a fucking houseful, and I wish I could enjoy it.
But the only thing I can find room to appreciate is Maren being safe and sound. Seeing her in danger put everything into perspective. Not just the way I feel about her, but also my priorities. What should really matter, and what shouldn’t.
The seconds I had to watch her from behind that rock were the longest of my life. And I didn’t spend them wishing I’d accomplished more with McKinley Security Systems.
I spent them wishing I’d left work earlier last week. Colored with Zara more. Watched more murder shows while cuddling on the couch with Maren. Had more dinner nights at my parents’. Told my brothers how much I appreciate them. That they’ve become great men.
So that’s what I’m going to do. I don’t know how I’m going to make it work, but I can’t keep doing what I’ve been doing.
And I don’t want to.
My brothers and cousin file into the great room, greeting Zara with smiles and teasing words.
As everyone settles in, my mother manages to get Maren’s sister to join her, my dad, and the rest of the kids in the breakfast room.
The twins and Birdie are small enough they won’t understand anything we talk about, but sending only Zara away would make her feel like she was being excluded.
And there’s no fucking way anyone in my family would ever let that happen. She’s one of us.
Just like her sister.
Maren slowly lowers to the sofa next to me, like she’s scared she’ll hurt me.
That’s not gonna fly.
I grab her around the waist, pulling her into my lap. Because I’m more than willing to suffer if it means she’s close to me. Especially since I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna like the conversation we’re about to have.
“Have the police identified the shooter?” Maren jumps right in, asking the biggest question right out of the gate.
“They’re working on it.” Toby seems tired. Likely because he almost lost Brooke again. I can say with complete certainty, my brother wouldn’t have survived it this time.
“He didn’t have any ID on him, but they ran his prints and got a few hits.
” Titus picks up where Toby left off. “I called Heidi and let her know what happened. Hopefully she can access whatever information they’re able to get and fill us in, but she and I are both suspicious we’re dealing with another hired gun like the Dead Dans. ”
“Goddammit.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Why in the hell is someone willing to spend this much fucking money to come after us?” If we’d done something major enough to warrant what I witnessed today, I’m pretty sure we would fucking know what it was.
“So are we assuming what happened today is connected to what happened to Maren’s trailer?” Brooke asks. “Or do we think it was just a coincidence?”
Maren shakes her head. “It wasn’t a coincidence.” She takes a shaky breath before sharing the news I gave her last week. “My mother died six months ago of an overdose. She couldn’t have been involved.”
The room goes silent, the full extent of what we’re facing heavy in the air. Not just because of the weight of it, but also because there are still so many unknowns crowding together. Collecting.
“But if this is directed at us, I don’t understand why there’s so much time between each attack.
” Toby holds up his hand when Tucker opens his mouth to argue.
“I’m not saying I don’t think it’s directed at us.
I’m saying maybe if we find out the reason for the gaps, we might be able to narrow down why it’s happening. ”
Maren’s brows suddenly pinch, her spine straightening as she sits taller on my lap. “Lindsey said something weird after the shooting started.” Her eyes go to Ruth and Brooke. “She thought she was the target of the shooter. That he was aiming for her.”
Walker’s brows lift. “Lindsey? The woman working in my department thought someone was trying to kill her?”
Maren nods. “That’s what she said. But then Trevor got shot, and the gunman was killed, and the police showed up, and everything was such a clusterfuck I didn’t even think to ask what she was talking about.”
Walker leans forward, the intensity of his blue gaze resting on Maren. “Did you guys see her when you were at the hospital? She had a pretty nasty cut on her eyebrow and it probably needed stitches.”
Maren shakes her head. “No. I thought maybe they were just able to get her in and out.” Her focus bounces between her friends. “Has anyone heard from her?”
Ruth and Brooke both shake their heads, the color draining from their faces.
“What if there was more than one person involved and they found her when we were all distracted?” Maren climbs off my lap, the movement jostling my leg enough to make me wince. “Where’s my phone?” She runs through the house, searching for her cell. “We need to call her. Make sure she’s okay.”
She locates the device on the kitchen counter and quickly taps the screen, switching it to speaker. We all wait as she paces across the great room, chewing on the tip of one finger as the line rings.
It goes to voicemail, the robotic voice of the generic greeting seeming overly loud in the silence.
“Someone should probably go to her apartment.” She turns to Walker. “You should go. You work with her all day and probably know her better than anyone.”
Walker gives Maren a single nod as he stands from his seat and turns for the door.
The alarm on my driveway signals the arrival of a vehicle before he can take a single step, and the tension in the room heightens instantly.
Walker turns to everyone. “Stay here. I’ll go handle whatever it is.”
“No fucking way are you doing it alone.” Tucker’s at his side in two long strides.
“Go fucking sit back down.” Walker stretches one arm out, pointing at Ruth. “She needs your stupid ass, and so does Birdie.”
Something uncomfortable and heavy settles in my chest at his words. The insinuation behind them. That since Walker is the only one of us who doesn’t have someone, he automatically should take all the risk.
That’s not fucking fair, but since I’m physically unable to kick his ass, all I can do is wave Toby and Titus after him and hope that if any shit goes down, it gets close enough to me I can take someone out with a crutch.
The foursome reaches my door before the bell even rings, the lock clicking softly as they open it up. I lean as far forward as I can, craning my neck to get a look at who’s here as low voices carry in. After a minute, the group files back into the room. This time with an addition.
Lindsey is with them, and she looks like shit.
Her eyes are red. Her skin is mottled and flushed.
The slice through her brow is held together with a butterfly bandage, and blood has crusted the fine blonde hairs around it.
Her arms hug her middle, shoulders slouched, with no sign of the bright, smiley woman I hired in sight.
“Oh, thank God.” Maren runs to her, grabbing the blonde in an uncharacteristically tight embrace. “We were worried you were dead.”
Lindsey’s chin wobbles, but she doesn’t return Maren’s hug. “I kind of wish I was.”
Maren leans back, looking Lindsey over. “Why? What’s going on?”
Lindsey’s blue eyes move around the room, glistening with unshed tears as she takes us all in. “I came here to tell you I’m sorry and that I’m leaving.”
Brooke stands, moving closer. “Why would you leave?”
“Because hopefully if I leave, you guys will all be safe.” Her hands go to her face and she wipes at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I thought I could…” She drops both arms, taking a deep breath. “I thought I could figure everything out before they found me.”
“Before they found you?” Maren sounds like she’s starting to get frustrated. “Who is they, and what are you trying to figure out?” Her voice pitches when Lindsey continues to hesitate. “Oh my God, just spit it out. Please. I promise we can handle whatever it is.”
Lindsey’s eyes move to Walker, hanging on where he stands for a minute before dropping to the floor. “I didn’t want to lie to you, but I had to. If you knew the truth, you would be in danger too.”
Now Ruth steps up, using her best mom voice as she asks, “What exactly did you lie about?”
Lindsey manages to stand a little straighter, giving Ruth her attention. “Everything.”
Ruth shakes her head, crossing both arms over her chest. “That’s not good enough, Lindsey. We need something specific.”
Again, her eyes drift to Walker before moving back to where Ruth stands. “Well, for starters, my name isn’t Lindsey.”