“Imbeciles,” Wolfe muttered.
* * *
Okay. So the oatmeal wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.
But she wouldn’t be telling Wolfe that. Last thing she wanted was to encourage him. The guys had left to grab showers then they were coming back. She picked up the TV remote.
She needed something to watch to take her mind off all the things running through her brain. Now that she was feeling better and her temperature had broken, she was starting to worry even more.
What was she going to do?
Whatever she did, she knew she couldn’t involve the guys. She couldn’t risk them like that.
Look at what had happened already.
William was dead. She was shot at. How had they known she’d be in that basement? She’d only told William’s contact.
They must have followed her. It was the only explanation.
Nothing had gone as planned. Everything was a mess. And she had no idea what was going to happen next.
The TV went on to a news site. She raised the remote to change it, but something familiar caught her attention and she lowered her arm. A reporter was standing outside her house. She tensed.
“In breaking news, it has been revealed that Lieutenant Governor William Davidson, who died of a heart attack nearly a week ago, had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and only had months to live. His wife, Genevieve Davidson, who is also the daughter of Governor James Mason, has declined to make a statement. The funeral is expected to take place a week’s time.”
Her breath started sawing in and out of her tight lungs. Declined to make a statement? How could she decline to make a statement when no one had spoken to her?
And the funeral. Would she have to go? Would it look suspicious if she didn’t? But she couldn’t go. Not when she didn’t know who to trust.
“What are you doing watching that?” Glancing over, she saw Caleb stride into the room. “You’re not supposed to be stressed.” He grabbed the remote and switched it off.
Breathe. She needed to breathe.
“Shit. Baby, breathe. Fuck. I’ll get Aleki.”
She reached out and grabbed his hand, tight. She just needed him to stay with her.
“Don’t . . . leave . . .” she gasped.
“Okay. I won’t leave. I need you to breathe for me, though. In then out. Come on, you can do it. In then out.” He lightly placed a hand on her chest. His touch brought a sense of safety. She managed one breath then another. Sweat coated her skin and that oatmeal threatened to come back up.
But at least she could breathe.
She looked up into Caleb’s concerned blue eyes. He watched her carefully. “Better?”
“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” He grabbed a glass and held the straw to her lips as she lay against the bed tiredly. She took a few sips then he set it aside.
“No more watching TV, understand? You need a mental health break from what’s going on out there.”
He cupped her face between his hands. It felt as though his strength and confidence were being infused through her skin. She calmed, her heart starting to slow.
“The funeral is in a week.”
“You want to go?” he asked her.
Panic flooded her. “No. I can’t go. They said I declined to make a statement.”