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The chatter in the parking lot grew louder. Multiple footsteps shuffled closer. Colson whirled around the corner and ran toward Jay and Tony. “Cover the principal. The shots drew a crowd.”

Jay’s blood heated and hairs on his nape bristled. Another gunman could be mingled in with the approaching crowd.

Colson and Tony shifted into their protective formation, pressing their backs to his flanks, closing in tightly with their gun hands at their sides.

Eyes sweeping the fence line, rooftop, windows, and blind corners, Tony applied her usual pressure signal—tapping her elbow beneath his—to set the pace and direct him to the back entrance of the building.

As dozens of wide-eyed, slack-jawed spectators filled the alley, all he could think about was holding Charlee as close as possible and how incredible it would’ve felt to have her arms wrapped around him, holding him back.

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Charlee hadn’t moved from the couch in their studio apartment since Jay carried her in from the rear alley. She couldn’t shake the hammering buzz in her head. If she were to guess, the gun firing beside her face had ruptured her eardrum.

What happened behind the building had registered a want she’d harbored for years. She’d been more than willing to squeeze the trigger and kill Roy’s man. But when it came to Roy, she didn’t just want to kill him. She wanted to destroy him.

With one hand on a towel at her ear, she shoved the other beneath her thigh to stop the violent trembling and blinked back the tears that thickened her throat. Neither Jay nor Nathan should have to deal with her fragility. They were suffering enough of her drama as it was.

The risks were riding her hard. How many Craigs prowled the property, waiting for them to emerge? Roy had caught up with them, but Nathan was still solidifying connections with Roy’s business adversaries. No one was prepared to stand against him yet.

Nathan prowled the room, cell phone to his ear, strategizing with his team in St. Louis.

Everything they owned filled half a dozen duffle bags and waited by the door. This time, they didn’t have a Marine chopper to carry them away.

Jay’s low tones drifted from the kitchen nook. His head bent toward Tony’s, lips moving, eyes hard as he glared at his bodyguard. Was he scolding her? Were they arguing over how to exit the building? Or was he just raging over the hell Charlee had led them into? Given his flushed cheeks, white-knuckled fists on his hips, and the heated way they whispered back and forth, Charlee guessed it was all of the above.

The heat in her graze wounds pulsed with the din in her eardrum. She removed the towel from the side of her head, relieved to see the flow of blood had slowed.

So fucking lucky. If Jay hadn’t distracted the Craig at the perfect moment, she’d be on her way to San Francisco. She wasn’t sure who fired first, but she knew she owed Jay her life.

“Keep pressure on it.” The cushion bounced with Nathan’s weight. He stooped down to meet her eyes. “Looks like you’re going to live.”

The dull throbbing pain was nothing compared to the up close and cutting wrath of Roy. “Yeah.”

He kept himself relaxed as he regarded her, but the strain of unleashed anger glazed his blue eyes. “You’re a pain in my fucking ass. Why didn’t you just stay in the car? Yet one more bad decision that’s landed us in a heap of shit.”

Ouch. She’d left the car because she was worried about him. No sense vocalizing that. “This is my shit, my problem. I never asked you to dirty your hands with it.” A tired argument, one he always ignored.

Nathan’s eyes hardened. “Let me have another look.” He turned her chin to examine the graze of the bullet behind her ear. “I don’t know if this one will scar.” He shifted his gaze to her ear. “Your earlobe…”

“Please don’t say it looks like Salvador’s.”

He swallowed.

Super. “Better than a hole in the head.”

He sucked in a breath and looked away. “I should’ve protected you better.”

Of course, he would assume personal responsibility. The burden he shouldered was so misplaced and undeserved. “You didn’t do this, dammit.” She returned the pressure of the towel to her head and gnashed her teeth against the burn.

They stared at one another through the swelling tension. What was going on behind those stony eyes? He’d told her for three years he didn’t blame her for Noah’s death, but she knew it was eating at him. How could he even look at her?

“I need to check in with the team.” He twisted to kneel against the back of the couch and parted the curtain behind her. A flood of daylight spilled in from the window that overlooked the rear alley.

“This is Nathan,” he said slow and crisp in the wireless headset. “There’s a stiff in the rear alley.” He moved to the window facing the side lot. “And there’s a crowd around our vehicle. Colson’s not going to be able to contain them.”

In the kitchen, Jay shoved his hands through his hair, the muscles in his biceps twitching. He’d risked his life to save hers, and he didn’t do it out of debt. The thought sent sticky tendrils of attachment wrapping around her. For once, they were coming from her. It was careless and selfish, but she didn’t want to fight it. And if he stuck around through gunshots and getaways, maybe he was more than just crazy. Maybe he was attached, too. She wouldn’t take that for granted.

The faint and undeniable blare of sirens pierced through the walls.