Page 111 of Hidden Resolution

“No, I’m good. But don’t let her mourn for that sonofabitch. He’s stabbed her in the back at every turn and then shot me. He would’ve killed her had she not taken him out first.”

Unsurprisingly, Dane remained silent. Of the three of them, he was the thinker and almost always assembled his thoughts before speaking.

“The police are down in the lobby, Mason. They want your statement.”

“Yeah, tell them I’m awake, but give me a few minutes with Shonda first.”

“Will do.”

Their eyes locked for a long moment of understanding.

Mason narrowed his eyes as he noted the fading bruises on his brother’s face.

“I’m not sorry for punching you,” he said.

Dane grinned. “And I’m not sorry for kissing your girlfriend.”

Mason laughed, immediately regretting it as pain shot through his abdomen.

“Ouch. And, yeah, fair enough,” he agreed. “We good?”

“Pfft. Like you had to ask.” Dane squeezed his forearm and released him. “I’ll call Ma and tell her she can rest easy.”

“Appreciate that.”

“Is it going to bother you if I crash at Shonda’s?”

Mason shook his head. “Nah. I’ll actually feel better knowing someone is looking out for her while I’m stuck in here.”

“Don’t kid yourself; she’s not leaving your side. But I gotta say, the way you’ve treated her up until today leaves a lot to be desired. If it were me, I’d let your sorry ass rot.”

His brows shot up in surprise. Dane didn’t do mean, yet there was definite anger in his tone.

“I thought we had a truce?”

“Can’t recall uttering that word. But a truce doesn’t mean I can’t tell you when you’re being a dick, Mason.”

Dane had the balls to ruffle his hair before walking off, whistling a jaunty tune.

“Dickhead,” Mason called, receiving the bird in response. Again, he laughed, then groaned. It felt good to mend their rift. The tension between them over the last month had been wearing, knocking him off-kilter.

Shonda emerged from the bathroom, ragged and worn.

“Are you going to be all right, love?” he asked.

“I have to be, don’t I?”

“You don’t need to be tough with me. Anyone else would’ve buckled by now.”

“Billy intended to kill me.” She shook her head and walked to the bank of windows, seemingly blind to the scene in the distance. “I don’t understand why.”

“Money is a strong motivator, love.”

Her nod was mechanical, and the silence stretched as she suffered in her own private hell.

“Shonda.” When he had her full attention, he beckoned her closer. “You had no other choice. You get that, right?”

“I do,” she said, her smile sad. After a beat, her brows met. “You said money was a strong motivator.”