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James and Tristan both squeezed a hand. “Let’s move.” The brakes released, and then she was in motion.

Twenty-Three

Noah sat in the ICU waiting room. His heart felt like a weight in his chest, a relentless ache he couldn’t shake. He wondered why hospitals were kept so cold. Charlotte and Isobel had gone with Ruth to the CT scanner. She’d awakened from her surgery unable to see.

He briefly saw Ruth lying motionless, her face pale and framed by medical wires and tubes. Her head was wrapped in bandages, some of her beautiful red hair peeking out. Every beeping monitor, every hurried command from the team, drove home how close he’d come to losing her. He willed himself to stay composed, to keep the panic clawing at his throat from showing.

A voice pulled him back from his thoughts. “Noah.”

He turned to see Alex Marcel approaching, flanked by Brad Killian and Ethan Hayes. The three lawmen wore expressions of grim determination. Alex’s tie was loose, his sleeves rolled up, while Brad carried his usual air of unshakable intensity. Ethan, ever composed, walked with a measured stride, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings, ready for whatever came next.

“They just took her back to the CT scanner,” Noah said, his voice hoarse.

Alex nodded. “I let the rest of the family know what’s happening. I advised them not to drive here until daylight. No point putting more people at risk.”

“Good,” Noah muttered, grateful Alex had thought of it. His head was spinning too fast to focus on logistics. He turned to Brad, his jaw tightening. “Do you have anything? Anything at all?”

Brad’s expression was dark. “It was a professional job,” he said, lowering his voice. “High-capacity Semtex bomb. Whoever planted it knew exactly what they were doing.”

The words landed like a blow to Noah’s gut. His fists clenched. “Semtex. One foot closer, and she wouldn’t have survived, would she?”

Ethan shook his head. “No. She wouldn’t have. Nor would you.”

Those words pressed down on him, suffocating in their finality. Noah ran a hand through his hair, frustration simmering beneath his exhaustion. “So, who knew we’d be there? Who knew I’d be with her?”

Ethan’s sharp gaze studied him for a moment. “Walk us through it.”

Noah exhaled heavily. “I left the FBI office with her. We went straight to her car, then to her office. We worked for a couple of hours with Blake Ellison, then we drove to the restaurant. That’s it. We didn’t pick the place until the last minute.”

“The car was in the Ellison & Grant garage. I’ll pull the camera feed.” Alex sighed.

Brad frowned, his tone cautious but probing. “You keep saying you think Fairchild made you the target. But it was Ruth’s car. Have you considered she might be the target?”

Noah froze, the question slicing through him. His mind had been locked on Fairchild’s vendetta against Hilton and him as the man who had the evidence, so sure the attack was personal. But Brad’s words opened a door he didn’t want to consider.

“She’s a junior defense attorney,” Noah said slowly. “A damn good one. But her clients…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “She doesn’t take on people like Fairchild. She handles DUIs, petit larceny, grand larceny. Not the kind of cases that would get her killed.”

“Are you sure?” Ethan pressed. “She’s built a reputation. Winning cases, making waves. That kind of success makes enemies. Maybe one of her clients has a grudge against her, or maybe it’s someone she beat in court.”

“It could be a spurned boyfriend,” Alex added.

Noah sank into a nearby chair, his shoulders slumping. His head dropped into his hands. “Nothing makes sense anymore,” he muttered.

Alex stepped closer. “Noah, think about what Luke Andrews told us about Dylan Grant and his nephew, Matt Brandt. If they knew Ruth was defending you, would they see her as a threat? Someone to silence?”

Noah’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening. “You think Dylan Grant or Matt Brandt would try to hurt her? At the office, they told her she was out of her league. Blake Ellison said he’d be co-counsel if I was arrested. He wanted Ruth to talk to you, Ethan—to get a copy of the phone tip.”

“It’s possible,” Ethan said. “Ruth stood up for you, Noah. Publicly, no less. If they saw her as leverage, or thought she was getting too close to something, they might’ve decided to take her out of the equation.”

“Leverage… My informant told me Fairchild wouldn’t want me dead. He was looking for a way to leverage me.” Noah’s mind raced, the idea twisting in his gut. “Hurting her doesn’t make sense,” he said finally, his voice rising with frustration. “If anything, it makes me more likely to want to put them away.”

“Desperation doesn’t have to make sense,” Brad said quietly. “Dylan’s cornered, and Matt isn’t exactly known for rational thinking. Ruth’s car being the target raises questions we can’t ignore.”

Noah stared at the floor, his ribs throbbing with every shallow breath. Exhaustion hung heavy on him, his thoughts circling in endless frustrating loops.

“Who would want to hurt Ruth?” he asked, more to himself than anyone else.

The silence that followed was deafening, an answer in itself. For now, there were no certainties, only the haunting possibility that Ruth wasn’t just an innocent bystander but the intended target all along.