He glares back. “What are you going to do about it, Hale? You’re not part of this investigation and shouldn’t even be here,” Grant snarls.
What the hell did I ever find attractive about this guy? He’s a complete asshole.
“Halifax,” Van Zandt warns from my other side. “Keep your mouth shut.”
“All of you shut up!” Wolski roars, swinging the gun around the room.
When Wolski’s body angles away, the gun not pointed at anyone specific, Gavin grabs the hand holding the knife and squeezes, causing Wolski to drop the knife. I fall to one knee, yank my secondary weapon out of the ankle holster and fire.
Gavin
“I’m so sorry, baby.” Mitch apologizes for the millionth time, clutching my hand while the doctor stitches the deepest of the cuts on my neck.
“Mitch, I told you to stop saying that. It was from my pressure point attack, not your bullet.” He hasn’t stopped apologizing since he killed Troy Wolski with a single shot to the head. At some point, the knife grazed my throat.
“Sir, if you don’t stop talking I’ll have to ask your friend to leave the room,” the doctor warns, pausing to shoot daggers at me.
“I’m his boyfriend, and I’m not moving,” Mitch snaps, his hand clamping down on mine until I feel my bones aching.
The doctor presses his mouth into a tight line and continues stitching. Thankfully, Mitch stays silent for the rest of the procedure.
By the time we get back to the beach house, I’m nearly asleep on my feet and Mitch looks like death warmed over. From the hospital we had to go to the local FBI office and give our statements. When I started to nod off during questioning, they said we could go and they would speak to us later. We stagger up the stairs and pass out on the bed fully clothed.
“Mitch,” I whisper, gently shaking him awake.
A low mumble is his only response.
“Mitch!” I shake harder.
“What? Huh?” He rolls to his back, rubbing the heels of his hands in his eyes. “Gavin? What’s going on?”
“The doorbell.” My face floods with heat and I’m grateful for the blackout shades in my bedroom. “I know he’s dead, but…”
Mitch reaches out, swiping his thumb over the bandage on my neck. “It’s okay, baby. I know.” He presses a small kiss to my lips. The heat of his mouth sends a shiver down my spine.
Kicking off the covers, Mitch swings his legs over the side of the bed. He looks down at his rumpled clothing. The doorbell breaks the silence again and Mitch shrugs. “I guess whoever it is will have to deal with us being unpresentable.”
I slide my arms around his waist, tugging him against me. The h
ard planes of his body feel so good under my hands. I lean in for another kiss, this time deep and wet, slipping my tongue into the heat of his mouth. When I pull back, breathless, I whisper against his lips. “You’re always presentable. I love you, and thanks for rescuing me.”
His hands tighten on my back, fingers digging in to keep me close. “I’ll always rescue you, Gavin. Just like you rescued me.”
The doorbell chimes again and I laugh. “Persistent, aren’t they?”
Reluctantly, I let go of Mitch and we head down the stairs. I reach for the knob but Mitch steps in front of me, pulling it open and shielding me from whoever is out there at the same time.
“Hello? I’m certain I have the correct address. Is this Gavin Walker’s home?”
“Mom?” I peek over Mitch’s shoulder to find my mother on my front step. “Oh my god!” Mitch steps back, which is a good thing because I might have barreled him over to get to my mother.
“Gavin?” Her eyes flood with tears as I pull her into a tight embrace. “Love, are you alright?” My mom’s voice cracks and she sobs. The sound of her so upset breaks the shell I’ve kept around my emotions over the last few months. Tears spill down my cheeks.
“I’ll take care of the cab,” Mitch says to no one in particular. By the time he comes back inside with my mom’s luggage, we’re in the kitchen and I’ve got the kettle on to make her a cup of tea.
“How did you get here?” I ask. “I mean, obviously you took a plane, but why now?”
My mom’s eyes cast down, her cheeks red with shame. “Your father phoned.”