Journey tapped on the door and it swung open.
“Are you up for visitors?” she asked, peeking her head inside.
Tristan grinned. For a second I had to put myself in check and remember this man had almost died saving her. I hadn’t expected him to look like a damn Greek god.
Even in a hospital gown, he was all hard muscle. I frowned as I stood next to the door. I didn’t miss the adoring look on his face when he saw Journey.
“Journey.” He grinned. “Look at you, love.”
She leaned over his bed, kissing him on each cheek.
“How are you? I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” She pulled up a rolling stool and planted herself next to him. “What do you need? What can I get you?”
“I was asleep for most of the week so you didn’t miss anything.” He had perfect white t
“But still. I wanted to say thank you.” She choked, and I had to fight the urge to rush toward her and power her through this. “You saved my life, Tristan. I don’t know if I can ever say thank you enough.” I saw a tear land on his hand.
“No. No.” He shook his head. “It all happened so fast. It was just instinct I guess. You don’t have to thank me. Maybe do a few extra squats at the club.” He winked. “You’ve got to keep that body toned. Right?”
Journey giggled.
That was it. I had gone from wanting to comfort Journey to wanting to punch the trainer. I moved slowly, my fists loose at my side. No shit he wanted to watch her do squats. She had an incredible ass.
“I never thought that chick would have had a gun. It still blows my mind. Since when do yogis carry guns?”
My head jerked. “What did you say?”
Tristan looked at me. “Who are you, exactly? Did you get a new manager, Journey?”
Journey intervened. “No. No. I still have Dante. This is Asher Westbrook. He’s personally investigating the shooting,” she explained. “It would be a huge help if you could answer any questions he has. He owns Westbrook Securities. We’re using all his resources to find the attacker.”
“What did you just say, Tristan?” I pressed again. “Yogi?”
He blew a long breath of air. “She must be bat-shit crazy. Didn’t get Zen on that morning.”
I stood at the foot of the bed. “Are you saying you saw the shooter and it was a woman?”
Tristan looked at me then Journey. “Yeah. I saw her. She was maybe twenty feet from us, standing between the cars. She had on yoga pants and a tank top.”
“And that makes her a yogi?” I questioned.
He shook his head. “I saw her before she raised the gun because she had a fluorescent Namaste on her shirt. It was bright even at sunrise. In fact, if she hadn’t had that on I wouldn’t have had time to step in front of Journey.” He turned his gaze upward and she smiled at him.
“You were so brave.”
What in the hell did this mean? The emails had been from a man. The gym video had been too blurry to distinguish any characteristics of the shooter, but we had all assumed it was a male suspect. What the fuck was going on?
“What else? What else do you remember? Did you recognize her from the gym? A client maybe?”
He rubbed his temple with his free hand. The other was strapped in a sling.
Journey gave me a stern look, cautioning me to slow down. I didn’t care if I was rushing him. It felt as if the information could disappear. I needed to extract it.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen her before. That was the first time.”
“Anything else out of the ordinary besides the shirt? Tattoos? Piercings? Can you describe how tall she was?”
Tristan paused. “She did have a tattoo on her wrist.”