Page 66 of Take Me, Sir

“He is.” She put her arm around my shoulders and drew me toward the bed.

I could feel Dean watching me as I went, and I knew that he and I would need to talk soon. But Anthony came first.

“Those men gave him some cough syrup, and he basically just slept through all of it. The doctors said he's completely fine. Not even dehydrated.” She ran her hand over his dark hair. “He won't remember anything.”

Something about the way she said it made me look at Dalton.

“Juliette was kidnapped before I met her.”

My eyes went wide.

“Former assistant and former lover teamed up,” she said without taking her eyes off of her son. “It happened right after Cross and Hanna met.”

“Have you considered investing in tracking devices for your family?” Dean asked as he came over to the bed.

Dalton chuckled, and the sound was contagious, loosening the last bit of what had been tight between us. I reached down and touched my nephew's hand. Someone sucked in a breath, and I looked up to see Juliette staring at my wrist.

“What happened?” Her eyes darkened when she looked back up at me.

“One of the men at the game thought I was cheating,” I said.

Dalton cursed. “You need to get that checked out.”

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.” Juliette's voice was firm. “You're going to get that x-rayed, and then after a doctor says it's okay, you're going home to get some sleep.”

“I'm staying here,” I argued.

“No, you're not.” Dalton had taken on that big brother tone that drove me crazy. “They want to keep Anthony overnight for observation as a precaution, but there's no reason for all of us to stay here.”

“Dalton,” I started to protest.

“Dean.” Juliette looked over at him. “Stay with her while she gets the x-ray and then take her back to her place. Don't take no for an answer.”

Dean gave me a steady look. “I won't.”

Apparently, I was going to have that talk with him tonight.

* * *

Noneof the bones in my wrist were broken or cracked, so the doctor gave me some pain meds and told me that I was free to go. I knew better than to try to go back to Anthony's room, so I didn't protest as Dean led me outside to a waiting car. And I didn't resist as he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side.

Neither of us spoke until we were back in my apartment, sitting on my sofa, each with a glass of my favorite pinot noir.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, shifting so that he was facing me, our knees touching. “Of course.”

“How did you find me?” I glanced up at him, and then down at my glass of wine. “I mean, how did the cops know where to find Anthony, and where to find me?”

“Dalton called some PI he knew, and the guy had a picture of Stanley Maverick. I put the pieces together. Enough of them, anyway. The police did the rest.”

I nodded. It made sense. “Dalton and Juliette didn't seem surprised when I told them about the gambling.”

A flash of guilt crossed his face. “I needed to give the police a reasonable explanation to justify them applying for warrants. I know it wasn't my place to tell them, but the situation–”

“Thank you,” I interrupted. “Thank you for helping the police find Anthony.”

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