“’Fraid so,” he said. “Good thing I don’t sleep naked.”
“In his underwear and running through the hallways with a gun.” Rebecca stood at the foot of the bed, her knuckles white from the grip she had on her elbows. “What the hell was that?”
A gun. A shudder moved through Liv, the image burned into her retinas. Seeing the gun pointed at her when the lights came on had catapulted her into a panic where she couldn’t tell real from flashback, the images superimposing on each other.
“I thought she was in trouble,” Finn said calmly.
“You just have a gun at the ready? You pick up that before pants?” Rebecca insisted. “You scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry.” He glanced back at Rebecca, and even in profile, it was clear he meant it. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I thought there was trouble. I’m…a cop.”
“A cop?” Liv asked, frowning.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck like he’d rather have any other conversation. “Yeah.”
Rebecca seemed to have the same reaction as Liv based on the what-the-hell look she gave him. “Your parents told my dad you were working in Europe.”
“Is that what they’re telling people now?” He sniffed. “Sounds fancy.”
“Well, that explains the Captain America routine at least,” Kincaid said, waving them off like she couldn’t care less what Finn had chosen to do with his life. She turned back to Liv, laser-focused. “You sure you don’t need anything, hon? Want me to stay in here with you? Go slumber-party style. We can braid each other’s hair and talk about boys in their underwear.”
Liv sagged against the headboard. She appreciated Kincaid’s offer, but there was no way she was going back to sleep, and she didn’t have the energy to put on a happy face. It was mortifying enough to have them all see her like this. Even when her panic attacks had been at their worst, she’d been a pro at finding a way to have them alone, to hide. “Thanks, but it was just a nightmare. Probably from too many margaritas.” She tried to offer a smile. “Y’all get some sleep. I’ll be all right.”
“You sure?” Rebecca asked, rubbing her arms like she couldn’t warm up.
Liv met her gaze, hating that she’d also stirred up bad memories for Rebecca with this middle-of-the-night drama. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Okay,” Kincaid said, reaching out and patting Liv’s knee through the blankets. “But you let us know if you change your mind.”
“Will do.”
Kincaid circled her finger in the air and got up from the bed. “All right, troops. Back to your bunkers. Let’s leave the woman be.”
Finn didn’t move, only glanced distractedly at Kincaid. “You two go ahead. This door won’t be secured tonight. I’ll help Liv move her stuff into my room, and I’ll sleep in here.”
Liv straightened. “You don’t have to—”
He turned his head, giving Liv a look. “You’re not sleeping with an unlocked door. Not an option.”
His green-eyed gaze left no room for discussion. She sighed. “Fine.”
She didn’t bother to tell him she wouldn’t be sleeping regardless.
“Liv?” Kincaid asked, eyebrows lifted in a way that said, If you need me to escort this bossy boy out for you, I will grab him by his ear and make it happen.
The concern warmed her. “Yeah, it’s all right. Y’all go on.”
“Okeydokey,” Kincaid said, her tone too bright for this late at night. “See you two for breakfast in a few hours. Don’t try to get out of it.”
The two women headed to the door, Rebecca glancing back once with an odd expression before stepping out into the hall. They wedged the mangled door shut as best they could and left Liv alone with Finn.
Finn looked back to her, concern lining his face.
She ran her fingers through her knotty, damp hair, wishing she could just crawl in a hole or rewind time. “You don’t have to worry about the room thing. I’m not going back to sleep anyway.”
“You still shouldn’t stay with a broken door.”
He got up, giving her a view of his backside as he crossed the room and grabbed the hotel robe she’d tossed over a chair. Normally, she’d be able to appreciate the scenery—all those finely honed muscles and broad shoulders, and the way the boxer briefs clung to everything beneath. The guy had always been nicely put together and seemed to have only improved with time. But all she could focus on was the corresponding entry scar on Finn’s back. That smooth, raised mark gave her comfort that this was real, that the nightmare was over.