Page 111 of Love Me Fierce

“Can you call your mom?” I break down when I think about how Matty’s going to react when he sees me broken. What if it cracks his unfailing belief that I’ll always come home?

“I texted her when Hutch was packaging you up.” Everett presses a tender kiss to my forehead. “It’s going to be okay.”

The meds are starting to kick in, easing the hammer inside my skull and quelling the unease in my stomach. “Do you think… someone did this?”

He wipes down his chin, then takes my hand. His expression turns serious, edged with that fierce determination I’ve grown to trust. “I’m going to find out.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

EVERETT

I’m gluedto Vivian’s side until they wheel her into a triage bay.

“You’ll have towait!” the bossy nurse barks at me before spinning away to re-join her team.

I run my hands through my hair. There are a hundred things I want to do right now, but only one of them matters.

Being with Vivian.

But I also need to find whoever did this to her.

During the ambulance ride, I sent the sheriff updates. He released an alert for a tan Suburban, but I won’t be able to rest until we find it and whoever was behind the wheel.

Though I’m pretty sure I know who it is.

Certainly not Shawna, who is cooling her jets in Interview Room 2 right now.

It’s looking less and less like Shawna is involved in anything besides spray painting Vivian’s car.

So, if Jordy Clarke is tormenting Vivian, what I don’t have nailed down iswhy.

The only common denominator, if I take Shawna out of the equation, is California. And if I think about Jordy’s past crimes andthe minimal sentencing… and that Rancho Palos Verdes is a suburb of L.A., is it possible he and Kent Hyek are somehow linked?

Cops often recruit criminals as confidential informants. C.I.s are especially useful for investigating systemic types of crimes like drugs, sex trafficking, or gangs. Could Jordy Clarke be some kind of informant?

Maybe one that owes Hyek a very big favor?

I have absolutely nothing to back this up. No intel. Nothing concrete. It’s thin and so far off the cuff as to be laughable.

And it would be, except that it’s been lurking in the back of my mind since that moment in Mrs. Ovenell’s living room.

“Ev!” Sepp calls out, running toward me from the E.D. entrance, his eyes dark. “What happened?”

“Someone hit her on the drive to Mom and Dad’s.”

“What?”

Linden is right on his heels, dressed in his turnouts. He was on scene, but we were too focused on getting Vivian to safety to carry on a conversation.

“What the hell were you thinking punching out her window like that?” Linden asks, so loud it draws the same nurse back over.

“What took you so long to get there?” I fire back.

“Break it up, you two,” Sepp says, his voice rising. “Is Vivian okay?”

The nurse turns us by our shoulders. “This is an emergency room, not debate club. Out!”

We walk through the ambulance bay doors to the covered turnaround outside the hospital. Beyond the bright lights, it’s still pouring. Hutch and his partner are already gone. I’ll make sure to find them later and thank them.

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