“Howdy all,” Alex says in a chipper voice. “Way to go all kickass, McKenna. Seriously, watching you lunge for that guy was the highlight of my day.” A pause. Then, “What? It was badass.” Another pause. “I’m sorry you got hurt, McKenna.”
“Thank you,” I say with a laugh.
Now it’s Gabe’s turn to glare, so I promptly stop laughing.
He turns his glare onto the phone in his hand. “Draken knows something.”
“Yeah,” Ryder says. “We got that feeling, too, from his body language. What did he say to you?”
“Sadly, nothing,” Gabe replies. “He taunted us. This is a game to him.”
“What game is the question,” Ryder says, then hesitates. When he speaks again, his voice is grim. “Hold on one sec. What’s that? Zoom that in, Alex.” Then Ryder’s voice deepens with clear annoyance. “You have another situation.”
“What’s that?”
“When you were outside the club, someone else was there, too.”
“Who?”
“A photographer.”
“Fucking perfect,” Gabe says, dropping his head into his hands.
I watch him, all this strain, all this hell is because of me, and guilt storms into me. Who knows what the tabloid will print about us tomorrow. Maybe they’ll say that now we go to shady strip clubs. Or maybe they will print worse. As much as Gabe tries to help me, it seems to only make him look worse. My head hurts for all new reasons now.
“Let’s stay on point,” Gabe says, lifting his head, watching me closely. “See what you can get on Draken. We need something on him, anything at all.”
“We’re on it,” Alex says, and then the phone line goes dead.
Silence falls, and as Gabe stares at me, there’s a lot in his expression, so much emotion that it’s hard for me to identify what he’s feeling. So much so that I can’t stay quiet.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
He pauses, examines me intently. Then, “What would you say if I asked you to stay out of this now?”
“I’d say no.”
His jaw muscles clench once, then he’s placing his hand on my thigh, and it feels like the most protective move, as he adds, “The game feels like it’s changing now. Tonight”—his eyes hold mine, worry heady in their depths—“those men . . . that’s a different show. I don’t want you anywhere near these people.”
“Okay, I understand that they are a valid concern.” I mean, they even scared me but I don’t think it’s necessary to tell Gabe that. Still, my heart tugs a little. No one’s ever protected me; I’ve always been the one protecting everyone else. “Thank you for wanting to keep me safe,” I tell him, truly meaning it.
I make a move to lower the ice pack to see him, and he shakes hi
s head. “Back on. Your twenty minutes aren’t up yet.”
I sigh and keep the ice pack in place, staring at him with only one eye. “I appreciate that you care about me, Gabe, I do. But this is my mess, my brother. I need to be there with you.”
He draws in the longest breath I’ve ever seen him take before he’s addressing me again. “There’s something about all this that feels very wrong. Tonight, did you feel as if they were unsurprised when we showed up there?”
I ponder. “They didn’t seem shocked, no, but wouldn’t they expect us to come after Evan?”
“Possibly.” He slides his hand up and down my thigh. “Perhaps Evan told them he knew you’d be coming for him.”
His mouth pinches shut. “But that’s not enough of an explanation for you?” I ask.
Gabe hesitates, then sighs, running a hand over his face. “I can’t put a finger on it exactly, but something about this”—he lowers his hand—“doesn’t sit right. Maybe it’s how Marcus spoke to me, a look in his eye. I don’t know, just something felt . . .”
“Wrong?” I offer.