I pressed my lips together because he couldn’t be more wrong.
He cocked his head. “You don’t think so?” A sound came from the end of the passageway and he turned swiftly, staring down into the dark. When nothing happened, he straightened and took a step back. “Move from that wall and I’ll put a hole in you.”
“So put a hole in me,” I retorted and scrambled to my feet. Arms locked around me from behind before I could even run. “Dammit,” I huffed, pausing my struggles to take a breath.
“Babe,” he muttered in my ear, his warm breath setting off shivers. “Gotta stop with the running. People want you dead. I’m tryin’ to fuckin’ help you here.”
I spun in his hold and he let me. “By putting a ‘hole’ in me?” I air-quoted.
“It’s either that or ask you to trust me. You gonna do that, Grace? Trust me?”
I pursed my lips.
“That’s what I thought. Now sit the fuck back on the ground and shut that sexy mouth of yours. I can still put a fuckin’ hole in you without making you dead.”
His eyes turned flat and hard when I tried to stare him down.
I glanced at the gun when the sound of it cocking reached my ears.
I sat.
“You have a lot to answer for,” I told him. “You better start talking. Fast.”
“Scratch that,” he growled and crouched down, grabbing the small black duffel bag nearby. “You’re not a trifecta. You might taste sweet as fuck, but you’re a pain in the fuckin’ ass.” After unzipping the bag, he glanced over at me. “You got an off switch, babe?”
“Fuck you,” I retorted. “And stop calling me babe. I’m not your babe.”
His brow pinched with disapproval. “If you were, you’d know your place.”
My heart hadn’t stopped hammering and when a set of surgical gloves were pulled from the bag and snapped on, I was sure it would explode from my chest. He tucked the gun he’d been waving in my face into the back of his pants and pulled out another one.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Reaching back in, he came out with a small bag that looked like some kind of dark, liquid pouch. “And what’s that?”
“It’s blood, and shut the fuck up.”
“Gross,” I declared, scrunching my nose. That was a crap load of blood. Then my brow crinkled. “Whose blood?”
“Yours.”
“Mine?” I squawked. “How did you get—”
“For fuck’s sake,” he growled, interrupting my outburst. Putting the pouch down, he jammed his hands back in the bag and came out with a roll of silver duct tape. Ripping a piece off, he slapped it across my mouth.
“Mmmmmm!” I screamed from behind the tape when I was yanked to my feet. He grabbed my hands and taped them behind my back. The agony from wrenching my tender shoulder and arm brought tears to my eyes. The asshole shoved me back down.
Picking up the pouch, he held it against the brick wall behind me and aimed his gun.
What the hell was he—
He fired two quick shots at the bag and I yelped from behind the tape, ducking my head. Blood sprayed out everywhere, the metallic smell of it filling the air. I jerked when it splattered my face and chest. Glancing down, I saw red flecks all over the dress that cost the equivalent of a small car. Mac would be pissed.
I glared at him but he was busy ripping off the gloves. They went in the bag while he tossed the gun away. It landed with clatter, skittering across the concreted ground.
I paused, staring at it. I knew that gun. I’d seen it in Casey’s hands earlier today.
My eyes flew back to catch him taking off his black jacket and white shirt, both covered in blood. They also went in the bag. Then I was given a quick glimpse of a chest so wide it deserved its own postcode. Ridges of tattooed muscle filled my vision before a fitted black shirt went over his head. It was tugged down quickly.
My eyes returned to the gun.
Casey’s gun.
Then to the blood spatter up the brick wall.
My blood.
He was setting Casey up for murder.
Not just any murder.
Mine.
My body tensed, tears of anger burning my eyes. Why would he do that?
He approached me again. Seeing the comprehension in my eyes, he crouched in front of me and used his thumb to wipe the blood from my forehead. “You know what I’m doing, don’t you?” I met his eyes, breathing hard through my nose. “People want you dead. I’m making it look like you are. I’m saving your fuckin’ life, babe.”
By setting Casey up for murder?
When he saw the question in my eyes, he said, “Casey’s messing in business that he shouldn’t. Tried warning you, Grace. The car. Planting the bomb in that cottage. Knew you weren’t in it, babe,” he added when my eyes went wide. Then his lips curved. “You were busy fuckin’ your man on the beach.”