“It wasn’t that hard,” said Havana, but she didn’t elaborate.
Tate looked from Aspen to Bailey, who both steadily stared back at him. It was clear that he wasn’t going to get answers from their corner. Doubting that pushing them on it would get him anywhere, he decided to let it go. For now.
They all talked a little more about Taggart, the jaguars, and Gideon before finally choosing to head out.
Tate was able to coax Havana into going home with him. As they walked along the street, they were stopped several times by his pride mates. Nosy as hell, each of the cats fished for information, but they were clearly also concerned about him and Havana. Tate kept the conversations short, uncomfortable with having his mate out in the open after yet another drive-by shooting, even though he knew it was unlikely that Gideon would have someone strike again so quickly.
Finally inside his house, Tate felt he could breathe easier. No one could get to her here. And even if someone went as far as to shoot at his windows, the bullets wouldn’t break the bulletproof glass. She was safest here, on his territory, where he could protect her. Still, the tension didn’t leave his body.
After he made the necessary calls related to the Gideon matter, Tate headed to the kitchen. He grabbed a beer for himself and poured Havana a glass of the wine he now stocked, knowing it was her preferred brand. They then settled on the sofa to watch TV. He lay on his back with her sprawled over him, her head resting on his chest. Needing skin-to-skin contact, he slipped one hand into her panties to palm her ass. He also snaked his free hand under her tee to drift his fingers over her back. But it was hard to relax when his brain kept playing the “if” game.
If he hadn’t seen the barrel of the gun pointing out of the Charger’s window, Havana might have been shot right in front of him.
If there hadn’t been a car parked nearby for them to use as cover, Tate might not have been able to shield her from the bullets.
If they’d reacted even just a little bit slower, Havana might have been hit before she ducked out of range of the gun.
If Farrell hadn’t been close by and able to follow the vehicle, they might never have found Taggart before he fled.
The whole thing had been a close fucking call, just like the last drive-by. Sheer luck had been on Havana’s side both times. But if there was a third time, just maybe she wouldn’t have that same luck. That thought made his throat burn. He couldn’t lose her.
“Ow,” she whined. “Claws.”
Tate blinked and retracted his claws, realizing they’d been pricking the globe of her ass. He massaged the skin there. “Sorry, babe.”
She lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest. “You need to stop brooding about whatever has you tense as a bow.”
His cat puffed up in affront. “I don’t brood.”
“So says every dominant male shifter. In reality, you’re all experts at it.” She danced her fingertips along his collarbone. “Distract yourself. Think about something else.”
“All right.” Tate swept his hand up her back. “Maybe you can now tell me how you and your girls managed to not only sneak into Taggart’s house but to do it without Alex, Vinnie, or Farrell—all of whom were guarding the exterior of the building—sensing the three of you. I didn’t even sense you enter the house, and neither did Luke.”
“Like I said earlier, it wasn’t hard. The guys were so busy watching out for the cheetahs that they just didn’t notice us. And you and your brother were preoccupied with Taggart and his friend.”
Tate snorted. Bullshit. Vinnie, Alex, and Farrell were too well-trained to not notice three females approaching the house … unless those three females had once received similar training. “Really? Hmm. I can’t help but get the feeling that you have experience with sneaking in and out of buildings, just as I can’t help but get the feeling that you have experience with interrogations. Am I right?”
She pursed her lips. “I once had a job where I needed those skills. I wasn’t a gun for hire or anything.”
“I never thought for one moment that you were,” Tate assured her. “You’re not going to tell me more?”
Her expression turned grave. “If I tell you, you can’t share it with anyone. Not even your dad or your siblings. If you’re uncomfortable with keeping a secret from them, I can understand that. But it also means I can’t tell you what you want to know.”
“If you need something to stay between us, it stays between us. I’m loyal to my family, yes, but you’re my family, too. More, you’re my priority. My loyalty is primarily to you. You can trust me.”