Page 91 of Stone
“You should have fucking shot me,” Polinsky said through gritted teeth.
“Ah, he speaks,” Griswold said.
“Suicide by cop—or FBI—isn’t a good look for you, Polinsky,” Ethan said. “Besides, we’re too smart for that. Once the professor kicked the gun from your hand, you were no longer a threat. Why waste our ammo on someone like you?”
Polinsky began spewing in earnest—cursing all of them for not finishing the job. No one seemed to care, and they went about their business, ignoring his rants. But the casualness with which everyone seemed to talk and contemplate violence suddenly hit Juliana, leaving her feeling as if caught in a whirlpool.
“Hey, you okay?” Simon asked, turning and taking her in his arms.
She took a few deep breaths, hoping to ease the nausea, but the smell of blood and, she imagined, death filled her nostrils.
“Whoa, hey, I’m going to get you out of here,” Simon said, laying an arm across her shoulders. “We’re going for some fresh air,” he announced to the room. As if sensing her struggle, everyone parted without a word. Less than a minute later, she stood with her face to the sun, gulping in the familiar scents of dirt, asphalt, and a lingering hint of diesel.
Simon kept his hand on her neck, rubbing her muscles. As the sun warmed her body and the air cleansed her mind, exhaustion took over.
“I’m having an adrenaline crash, I think,” she said. Without a word, he gathered her in his arms again and rubbed her back. Her head fell against his shoulder, and she wondered if she could sleep standing up. “Can we go home?” she asked. “Wait, I want to pick Sherman up from the clubhouse first andthengo home. And sleep the rest of the day,” she added. She didn’t care that she referred to Simon’s place as home—or, more to the point, she didn’t give it a second thought. She was too tired, but more importantly, she knew beyond a doubt that itwashome.
He brushed his fingers through her hair, then pressed his lips to her temple.
“Nothing, and I mean nothing, would make me happier,” he whispered.
43
Sherman pushed his nose against the door to the clubhouse. Made of three-inch-thick wood and weighing over a hundred pounds—Stone knew, he’d installed the fucker—the thirty-five-pound puppy didn’t stand a chance.
“Nice try, little guy,” Stone said, opening the door and letting him bound ahead of them. Beside him, holding his free hand, Juliana smiled. Eventually, they’d need to work on Sherman’s leash manners, but for now, he seemed happy to stick close to them without the tether.
“Wanna bet that by the time he’s full grown he’s going to be able to open that door on his own?” she said as he led her in.
“If he learns how to manage a doorknob, then we have bigger problems,” he replied, eliciting a laugh.
“I wasn’t sure if we’d see you today,” Mantis said from his seat on the couch. Charley sat beside him, her feet curled up, her body pressed to his, a clipboard in hand. She glanced up and waved, then went back to her clipboard.
“We wanted to come by and see how Griswold is doing,” Juliana said. Sherman, who’d been sniffing around the pool table, bounded across the room toward Mantis and Charley,then jumped on the couch with his front paws, barely missing Mantis’s junk as he came down. Mantis winced and shoved the dog gently, but firmly, off the furniture.
“He’s fine,” Viper answered. He, Monk, Scipio, and North sat at a nearby table playing poker. Forgetting his not-so-warm welcome from Mantis, Sherman darted over to investigate. Stone’s gaze followed him, noting none of their temporary guests were in the room.
“They went on a hike with Cass and Joey,” Mantis said, reading his mind.
“Where’s Griswold?” Stone asked, keeping his eye on Sherman, who was manically sniffing Juan’s boots. Stone wondered if he’d been at the large soon-to-be-farm on the southwest side of town they were supplying materials for.
“Right here,” Griswold said, hobbling out of the kitchen, Dottie following close behind. “Trying to go home, but someone took my keys.” He glared at the table filled with Stone’s brothers.
“No one took them, you paranoid bastard,” Viper said. Although if he read the look the four men shared right, Stone would bet Griswold had left them out and someone had hidden them.
“Sit down, you big oaf,” Dottie said, not so gently manhandling Griswold to a couch. “Hi, Juls, hey, Stone. There’s lemonade in the fridge if you want, and as soon as this lug sits down and gets off his leg, I’ll pull together snacks.”
Juan and Monk looked up. “Snacks?” Juan asked.
“I didn’t know you cared so much,” Griswold drawled.
Dottie rolled her eyes. “I don’t. But since you helped my boys out—and Juls—I have to make sure you heal before you leave.”
Griswold’s eyes narrowed, though more in contemplation than warning. Juliana bumped Stone’s shoulder, and when he glanced over, she waggled her eyebrows. Griswold might be agrumpy bastard, but she’d seen the spark of curiosity in his expression, too.
“How are you?” Dottie asked, walking over to join them once Griswold settled with his leg up.
“Better now that it’s all over,” Juliana replied. “I don’t think I’ll ever take the feeling of safety for granted again. I mean, I know anything can happen at any moment, but I don’t have to go through my day wondering who might try to kill one or the other of us.”
