Page 50

Quaid

T he echoes reverberated inside my head, and it was several long seconds before I registered the accelerated whomping of my heart in my ears.

With Costa’s warning, I’d flattened myself on the floor beside Nixon and covered my head.

I lifted it now and came face-to-face with a wide-eyed Nixon, who peered across the room.

I followed his gaze to find Torin crouched beside Flynn, checking for a pulse. The empty stare of Flynn’s open eyes told me he was dead before I noticed the spread of blood covering his shirt over his heart.

Costa had Crowley in his arms, holding the kid’s face against his chest and telling him not to look. Jordyn appeared beside me and offered me a hand. Rattled and disoriented by the sudden chaos, I blinked several times, unable to process before gripping her hand.

She helped me to my feet as Nixon scrambled upright and dashed to Crowley, removing his son from Costa’s arms. The pair hugged and cried as Costa guided them from the room, keeping his body positioned so the child didn’t see his uncle.

Still bewildered, I flinched when Torin barreled across the room and manhandled me, turning me in circles and checking me head to toe as he shook his head and cursed like a sailor.

“I’m fine,” I said, swatting him away.

He wagged a finger in my face. “You are in so much shit, lover boy. I will not be the one to explain this to Az. Christ almighty.” He tore his fingers through his hair and pivoted in a half circle, spitting more profanities.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Flynn. “You killed him.”

Torin squared up with me again and snarled, “Yeah, I fucking killed him. He was aiming that gun at you and the kid’s dad. Either I killed him, or he killed one of you, and Jesus motherfucking Christ, Quaid. If I let you get hurt, your husband would have killed me.” He slapped his chest.

His words crystalized in my brain, and it was then I realized Flynn had Nixon’s gun in hand. In the fray, he must have gotten hold of it, abandoned Crowley and the knife for something better, intending to what? Escape?

Costa returned and shoved Torin out of my face as he roughly frisked me, spinning me around twice, hands everywhere they shouldn’t be until I snagged his wrists. “Good grief. I’m fine. Stop feeling me up, or I’ll get ideas.”

Costa swiped his hand over his jaw, paced a few feet away, glanced at Flynn, and planted himself in front of me, gaze skipping over every inch of my face. Unlike Torin and his fury, Costa’s expression was raw and full of anguish.

Again, he reached out and touched me.

I caught his hand, squeezing reassuringly. “I’m fine, Costa.”

He hesitated for a beat, then dragged me into his arms and hugged me. The racing rhythm of his heart thundered against my chest. It was only the second time he’d held me like this. Once on my wedding day when my jitters were sending me into a panic attack, and now.

When he let me go, Torin slapped Costa’s arm. “Don’t get fresh, or I’ll be forced to report this to Az as well.”

“Shut up.” Costa shoved him and scanned the room, gaze landing once again on Flynn.

“Where’s Nixon and Crow?” I asked.

“I handed them off to another officer,” Costa said.

Jordyn explained further. “Your backup arrived when we did. We knew you wouldn’t wait for them. We had them secure the perimeter while we entered.”

“Good thing, too,” Torin said. He pointed at Flynn but spoke to me. “You see why I’m an asset. You see why you need to call me next time.” To Costa, he said, “That was me, tough guy. I did that. I saved his fucking life.”

“I was saving the kid from having his throat slit, thank you very much.”

“My god, I hate men. Both of you shut up. It’s not a pissing contest.” Jordyn stared at me with hard, glacial eyes. “And you… You’d better get your ass back to the hospital before Az calls in the military to retrieve you.”

My breath caught in my lungs. “Oh shit.” I’d forgotten about the phone call I’d ignored before entering the room. “Has she… Did I miss it? Am I too late?”

“How the hell would I know?”

I glanced around the room, knowing there would be a mountain of reports to write and an internal investigation involved since a civilian was dead at the hands of a cop. I’d be required to fill out paperwork and give interviews and …

Torin pushed me toward the door. “Go. We’ll sort this out. Edwards will understand.”

I glanced at Costa for reassurance, and he hitched his chin toward the door, mouthing, Go .

So I went.