Over her shoulder, my brother flipped me the bird.
She brushed a kiss to my forehead. “Stay here. I’ll get you a glass of water in a minute, okay?”
Nash coughed something that sounded suspiciously like “faker,” but the cough ended in a groan of pain.
Served him right. I returned the one-fingered salute when Naomi rushed back to his side.
“Never saw you go weak in the knees at the sight of blood before,” Nash observed.
“You wanna get to your point, or is this how you wrangle social calls since no one wants to be around your ass?”
Naomi shot me a “behave yourself” look as she opened a fresh strip of gauze. I saw my brother’s jaw go tight when she pressed it to his wound. I looked away until Nash cleared his throat.
“Got some news on Tina,” he said.
Naomi froze, holding a strip of tape. “Is she okay?”
Her twin sister had stolen from her, abandoned her child, and Naomi’s first question was whether or not Tina was okay.
The woman needed to learn that some ties needed cutting.
“We don’t know her whereabouts, but it seems like there’s something in town that she didn’t want to leave behind. We found her prints at the storage unit break-in.”
I tensed, remembering the conversation in his hospital room.
“What storage unit break-in?” Naomi asked as she moved on to the wound lower on his torso.
“The trailer park landlord reported two separate break-ins. One at his office and one at his storage unit, where he keeps anything of value that tenants leave behind. The storage unit was a smash and grab. The lock was jimmied. Shit was broken. A bunch of stuff was missing. We found Tina’s prints all over the place.”
I forgot about my fake fainting spell and got out of the chair. “It’s a small fucking town,” I pointed out, crossing to the kitchen. “How the hell is she sneaking around without anyone spotting her?”
“Got a theory on that. We got some footage from a security camera at the entrance,” Nash said, using his good arm to pull a file folder closer to him. He tipped it open, and a grainy photo showed a woman with long, dark hair dressed in a long dress.
Naomi leaned across my brother to peer at the photo. I wasn’t certain, but I thought Nash looked like he was sniffing her hair.
I dragged her into my side, away from my brother, and handed her the photo.
“What the fuck?” I mouthed at Nash.
He shrugged, then winced.
“Stubborn fucking idiot,” I muttered. I guided Naomi to a stool out of Nash’s reach, then stomped over to the sink. He still kept his over-the-counter shit and his excessive collection of supplements in the cabinet. I grabbed a bottle of Tylenol and poured a glass of tap water, then slid both across the counter to my dumbass brother.
I spotted a baking dish on the counter with some kind of dessert in it. Lifting the plastic wrap, I sniffed. Peach cobbler. Nice.
Since I was missing out on my own lunch and Nash was to blame, I grabbed a fork.
“That’s my dress,” Naomi said, handing the photo back to Nash. She’d gone pale. I snatched it out of his hand and stared at the image.
Fuck. It was her dress.
“Figured she was dressing like you in case she ran into anyone in town,” Nash explained. “She must have grabbed it when she broke into your motel room.”
Naomi was biting her lip again.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded.
She shook her head. “Nothing.