Stone’s eyes hide behind dark sunglasses as he stands next to the passenger door, hands shoved into pockets, lips a thin line. Taut shoulders give away just how much his friend’s injuries have affected him. Knowing Stone, I’m guessing the guilt has become too much for him at times over the last few days. He’s always acted as Wyatt and Lucas’s protector, and with Lucas getting injured the way he was, I know it has to be tearing him up inside.
The dark-haired cowboy, however, beams under the wide brim of his black cowboy hat, his chiseled features relaxed as he leans against the back door, arms crossed in front of him. He’s the picture of complete joy, and I love him for it.
The four of us all deal with things so differently, but somehow, it works.
Lucas mutters under his breath, clearly not happy he’s being wheeled to his escape from the hovering nurses and the confines of the hospital room. His displeasure is written all over his face as he slumps in the chair.
As soon as the wheels stop and the nurse lowers the brake, he stands. White bandages loop around the front of his neck, peeking out above the collar of his green t-shirt. His hands still sport bandages too, but he has full use of them now. The only concerns moving forward are infection and Lucas regaining full use of his voice. He’s been told not to push it, and I intend to make sure he doesn’t.
Warmth spreads in my belly as he reaches back to grab my hand instead of making a beeline toward the car. Overwhelming joy tingles my limbs as soon as we’re all seated inside, just the four of us. With his father on the run, Stone will be staying at Jacobs Manor again, and I can’t think of a better time for us all to be united.
Ineedall of them. I need Stone’s strength, Wyatt’s laughter, and Lucas’ calm, steady hand.
“Cole called while you were in there,” Stone announces, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror.
The happiness numbs to nothingness again. I guess Lucas getting out of the hospital is only the tip of the iceberg of problems we have right now.
I bite my lip. I’m putting off the inevitable, but what am I supposed to say to him? I haven’t attempted to break down the fact that he killed the man I thought was my dad yet. I try to muster up anger for the gangster, but there’s none. Only curiosity about why he would kill Clark Wilder. Was it for the treasure? Was it for me?
If I’d only sit down and speak with Cole, I’d have these answers already, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not ready.
“You’ve got to sometime,” Wyatt offers, hand wrapping around my thigh and squeezing me there. “We’ll be there for you.”
I turn in the seat and find the black sedan following us. Two of Cole’s guards are always around now. They don’t pry. They don’t push us to find the treasure. They’re here for our protection against Lance’s hired men—I think. And I have to say that I never saw that coming. When Cole first showed up with the black smoke of my family’s house billowing in the background, I thought he was the villain. I’m not saying he’s the hero because he’s not that either, but what if he’s both? A heroic villain. The bad guy with a conscience. That would be something, wouldn’t it?
I turn back around in the seat, inspecting the hard lines of Stone’s jaw while he drives. He’s itching to know everything Cole does. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stone already asked him what it is that he has to tell me. It’s getting to the point where even I have to admit that I’m being ridiculous.
I just need to get out of my own head.
My phone rings, and I sigh. There are only a few people who call me, and of the four who do, three of them are in this car. That leaves only one possibility as to who the caller is. The very same person I’ve been dreading talking to.
I pull the phone from my pocket and glance at it. Sure enough, Cole’s name scrolls across the screen. This is the first time he’s attempted to make contact since I told him I needed time. He’s called Stone, however. Apparently, cleaning up dead bodies after a massacre endeared them to each other. Who knew?
I take a deep breath and hold it in my chest before answering. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” he bites out. He’s out of breath, voice tight. A round of rapid gunfire thunders in my ear, practically deafening me.
My heart flutters, nerves skittering over my skin. “Are you okay?”
“Where are you?” he demands.
“In the car, taking Lucas home.”
The black sedan behind us speeds up. The engine roars to life before they cut in front of Stone and slam on the brakes, effectively making a shiny black barrier. Stone curses and we come to a skidding halt amid a screech of tires. Our fender just kisses their bumper.
“Jesus Christ.” My fingers ache from the death grip I have on Lucas’ seat.
“My guys are there with you?”
Another round of gunfire sounds from the phone’s speaker, this one much closer than the last, and I can’t help but think that Cole is literally firing a gun while he’s on the phone with me. Who does that? “Yes. They cut us off.” My heart beats like crazy in my chest, a machine-gun rhythm that matches the movie-like sound effects that are in fact very, very real.
“Go to Stone’s place. Make sure my guys go in first so they can check it out, then hunker down and wait for my call.”
“Cole, what? Are you—?”
The cacophony on the other end of the line abruptly ends, and I yank the phone away from my ear to find the familiarCall Endedmessage. My fingers strangle the phone. He and I have to talk about being hung up on.
Ninja strides toward the driver’s side and leans down to talk with Stone. Before long, we’re following them to our house, and we do as Cole says: stay in the car and wait for the two of them to come out and give us the okay.