Page 75 of End Game

“For tonight, at least.”

A charged silence. “Don’t hurt her.”

His brother’s words dropped into his stomach like rotten fruit. “Why do you think I would?”

“I don’t—It’s just—You’ve never been a fan—” Phin blew out a series of curses. “Listen, I know how you feel about her, but she’s important to me—and many others.”

“I’m not a damn barbarian. I’m surrounded by people on a daily basis whose politics or opinions are not my own. Besides, she’s been through hell. I know how to keep a civil tongue, when necessary.”

“You’re right. I know that. Sorry for being an ass. Your call . . . I-I guess it caught me off guard.” He seemed to be struggling for words, which was very un-Phin-like. “Just keep her safe tonight, and let me know what else I can do to help.”

Even hours later, the memory of his conversation with Phin burned. The thought that Phin, even for a second, believed Ash could harm Kayla—anyone—under his protection hurt like hell. Had the distance between Ash and his family grown so much that they believed him capable of such a thing?

The water in the kettle roiled. He swallowed back a lump of emotion, shifting his complicated relationship with his family aside.

He poured hot water over the tea bag, while snatching a glimpse of Kayla. Snuggled beneath a light throw, she lounged on the couch, with her stockinged feet propped on the coffee table and her head turned to the side, away from him, staring at nothing.

At least not anything of this physical world. He had no doubt Grimball’s horrific death mask was replaying in her mind, over and over.

“Here.” He held the mug out to her. “It’s herbal and might feel good on your stomach.” He stopped short of saying “settle your stomach,” not wanting to draw more attention to what she’d survived.

She pushed up into a sitting position and tucked her feet beneath her before accepting the hot, medicinal drink. “Thank you.”

“Can I get you anything else? Something to eat, maybe?”

She shook her head. “I’m not up for food yet, thanks.” Patting the seat next to her, she said, “Stop hovering, Agent.”

Lowering himself, a full cushion away, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes,” she said, without hesitation, “but not about what I saw or how I feel. I’ll make an appointment with my therapist to discuss those things. I’m due for a check-in, anyway.”

The matter-of-fact way in which she approached her exposure to trauma surprised him. He didn’t know if he should be concerned that managing extreme self-care was old hat for her or thankful that she wouldn’t break apart in front of him.

“What would you like to discuss?” he asked, though he thought he already knew what she’d say.

“I need to walk through all that’s happened since my godmother’s murder.”

Her confirmation of what he’d expected sent a series of his own questions blazing through his mind.

36

“Okay,” Ash said, “let’s go through what we know.”

The tension quivering through Kayla’s body like a low-grade earthquake eased a little at his acquiescence.

Facts, brainstorming, and action plans, she could handle. They were the foundation on which her business thrived. Familiar, comfortable, solid. But delving into what she’d witnessed at Seb Grimball’s place could open up a sea of emotions that might drown her.

“We’re searching for one, maybe two, assailants,” Ash continued.

“Two?”

“Forensics discovered droplets of blood where we believe the shooter set up, waiting for Governor Stokes to appear.”

“Why does the presence of blood suggest a second person?”

“They also found signs of an altercation at the site. It’s possible the shooter had a disagreement with his partner.”

“Or a guest caught the shooter and tried to stop them.” Kayla immediately shook her head, dismissing the idea. “No one from the party came forward and no one is missing.”

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