Page 74 of Finding Denver

Denver says, “Well, maybe I’ll kick you out.” There’s not much fight in her words, though, and she slumps back onto the couch. “In three to five business days when my ribs stop hurting.”

I smile. “Pain relief not helping?”

“Alcohol would work better.”

I pour her, me, and Lewis a glass of whiskey. While Denver holds the glass against her jaw, Lewis returns and sits beside her. “I knew Spider had resources, but fuck me. Ifwe didn’t have Charlie’s backup, I don’t even want to think what would have happened.”

“Pew pew, we all die,” Denver mumbles, resting her temple against his shoulder.

I ignore the strange flare of something in my chest as Lewis takes her hand.

Lewis has commented on how Ranger doesn’t like him and never has. They’ve frequently butted heads over Denver’s protection, and I doubt it was regarding Lewis’s ability to keep her safe. I’ve only seen him work a handful of times, but he’s quick, efficient, smart. Denver is his priority.

So maybe Ranger’s issue was something else. Maybe he saw something between Lewis and Denver that made him jealous.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asks her.

She nods. “Tired.”

He suddenly sighs and takes his phone out, frowning gently at whatever message he’s received. “I traced that number that’s been calling you. It’s a woman called Patricia Heller.”

“Number?” I ask.

Denver sits up. “Yeah, someone has been calling me and hanging up for months.”

Lewis asks, “You know her?”

“No, but … the name, yeah. The doctor on duty when Theo died was a Dr. Heller. That has to be a coincidence though, doesn’t it?”

“It must be. Why would she be calling you?”

Denver shrugs gently, but her frown deepens. I’ve read about Theo, her son who died just hours after being born, but she’s never mentioned him.

Lewis finishes his drink. “I’m going to bed. If you needme?—”

“I’ll scream.”

He groans. “Please don’t joke about that.”

Denver grins and Lewis kisses her forehead before leaving. I rub the heel of my hand into my chest to stop whatever the fuck is happening in there.

“You’re really staying?” Denver asks. I adjust my stance, as if daring her to try and throw me out, but she just rolls her eyes. “Then at least shower and change into something of Lewis’s. You look like you just killed a bunch of guys.”

I do as Denver suggests, and despite Lewis’s T-shirt being almost uncomfortably tight, I’m grateful to be clean. Denver sits beside me on the couch, still blinking quickly.

“Let me take a look,” I say, cupping her face with my hands. I rest my thumbs beneath her eyes, pulling gently to look at the inflammation. It was red when I first found her, and now it’s closer to an angry pink.

“Are you a doctor?” she mumbles, arching a brow.

“Yes. Dr. Ghost. My official diagnosis? You have a bad attitude,” I say, and she grins, letting out a small laugh. “I also think I spot roots. Are you not a natural redhead?”

She tsks and shoves me away. We nestle into the couch. My adrenaline started ebbing away in the shower, and now it’s almost out. Alistair texted me to let me know the cleanup crew are almost finished, the right people at the hotel have been paid off or encouraged to stay quiet, and the police on our payroll are writing it off as a family dispute. Not entirely untrue.

“You know what I’ve been wondering since I walked out of that hotel room?” Denver asks. “If I should call Ranger.”

I watch her as she plays with her fingers. “It’s understandable. He’s in this, too.” She nods. “Butyou don’t want to.”

Leaning back into the couch cushions, she sighs softly. “It’s opening up a line of communication that I don’t think I’m ready for. Or strong enough for.”