She ignored the disgust in his voice. She’d been the driving force behind the story that had turned his department upside down last year. “I’m a guest.”

He finished taking her statement with cool reserve, then handed back her license. “That’s it… for now.”

“I understand.” When Abbie unfolded her legs to get up, the Hispanic guy was there again, offering her a hand and saying, “I’ll have someone take you home.”

“No, thank you. I have a car waiting.” She took her handbag and wobbled her way through the house, past gaping guests taking in the blood smeared across her dress and skin.

Probably wondering if she’d attacked Gwen.

She put one foot ahead of the other and finally reached the front door, where Wentworth staff rushed up, offering her a car.

“I have a car,” she repeated. “My driver should be here… uh, somewhere.” She gave him the name of the car service she’d made Stuey hire for her.

“Right away, ma’am.” A male valet full of youth and vigor dashed out to the sea of black sedans and limos, pausing at one, then pointing in her direction. The car’s headlights powered up and the vehicle pulled alongside where she stood. One of the staff opened her car door.

She sank into the backseat, wishing the leather would wrap her into a safe cocoon for a few hours until her brain caught up with what had happened tonight. “Take me home.”

The driver didn’t ask for her address, but he’d picked her up from home and surely still had the location in his GPS since he’d been hired for a round trip. The car moved away as if floating on air, or maybe her body had lost touch with the earth.

Gwen said a “Fra” would try to kill them if they found out. What in the world was a Fra?

And what was worth killing people for?

Once Dr. Tatum had started sharing her mother’s history two days ago, he’d prattled on with endless details. Abbie had never known her mother underwent tests at the Kore Women’s Center prior to getting pregnant and after each baby.

Hearing the EMTs talk about Gwen reminded Abbie that Dr. Tatum said the Kore Women’s Center banked her mother’s blood, which they might need if her mother got the chance to go through surgery for a transplant.

Was rare blood at the center of this?

What had been important enough to shoot Gwen for, or was that even the reason someone tried to kill her?

Something else important pressed on Abbie, but warm air flooding the car turned her tight muscles to jelly and lulled her to sleep. She nodded off… safe. For now.

Hunter ignored the cold air piercing his tux and took in the area up and down Cornelia Avenue, watching for any hint of threat in the areas that were vaguely lit and not dark as a bottomless well.

The address for the modest four-story brick apartment building across the street had been loaded in the hired sedan’s GPS system as tonight’s pickup and return point for A. Blanton.

That would be the woman passed out in the backseat.

He opened the passenger door directly behind the driver’s seat and leaned in to shake Abbie gently. Her pale face glowed in the dark, stirring a desire to pull her into his arms so he could soothe away the fear. A ringlet fell to the bridge of her nose.

He hooked the strand of hair and it curled around his finger.

Why couldn’t he recall where he’d met her? He remembered her eyes and face, sort of, but something didn’t match enough to raise a clear memory. What he did remember was a sense of innocence about her, but that didn’t fit with the woman he’d heard threatening Gwen tonight.

What had Abbie said to Gwen just before the shooting? Hell of thing to watch someone get shot.

He lightly rubbed the back of his hand over her cheek. Smooth skin sprinkled with a few tiny freckles.

Her cheeks had more color now. The only color before had been in those rosy lips, kissable lips. Her teeth weren’t chattering anymore. Even with the heat on high, she’d still shivered from shock on the drive to her apartment.

Maybe he should have stopped to cover her with his jacket. She looked small coiled up on her side with her legs tucked…

Hunter stood up quickly and took a step back. What was he doing? He shouldn’t think about her as anything but a lead on this mission. He shrugged off the moment of concern.

She had information he needed, but he had to be careful. He’d taken a risk by telling Carlos she wasn’t conscious when she was lying by the pool, but Hunter would not give her up until he gained the information he needed.

She couldn’t be an undercover operative. Nothing about Abbie fit, but the very best agents were hard to identify.

Like Tee, the codirector of BAD, a tiny, perfect beauty who had to be one of the most lethal female agents in the world.

Until he confirmed Abbie’s stake in all this, what she’d been after with Gwen and why someone wanted to kill Gwen, she was an unknown entity. He leaned into the car. “Come on, Abbie. Let’s go.”

She murmured something and squirmed. Her eyelids moved up slowly as though made of lead. She blinked, squinted, rubbed her eyes, then blinked again. “What are you doing here?”

“I drove you home.”

She lifted her head, studying the front seat, then slumped against the seat again. “What’d you do with my driver?”

“Paid him plenty to find his own way home.”

“Back to my first question. What’re you doing here?” She moved with lethargic care, slow as her sleep-dulled words. Keeping her eyes on him, she reached blindly to the seat beside her and grabbed her purse.

“Heard about what happened with Gwen and you. I owed you for helping me with my friend’s fiancée and didn’t get a chance to introduce you around. Besides, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He also needed to know if she’d actually recognized him at the pool or not.

She lifted her legs and moved around to get out of the car.

He backed up, extending his hand.

She accepted his offer and let him pull her to her feet, then stepped to the side out of his grasp. She wrapped her arms around herself against the cold. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

Hunter had pulled his shirt loose to cover his weapon so he could take off his jacket. “Put this on.”

She tried to refuse his jacket, but he draped it over her shoulders. When she didn’t say anything else, he added, “I’ll just see you to your door.”

Abbie lifted her fingers in a perturbed “okay” sign and walked around the car, wobbling.

He stepped up beside her and put his hand to her back as she started to cross Cornelia Avenue.

She sent him a look that said she would not be civil if he didn’t remove his hand. He allowed his finger to linger three seconds against her dress, then pulled away and kept pace.

Not another word was spoken until they reached the entrance to her building. She dug out a key card from her purse for the electronic lock and paused, eyebrows drawn tight. “What exactly did you hear happened?”

“That Gwen was shot and you saw it. I was thinking-”

“So you thought driving me home would make up for disappearing on me at the party?”

He had a bad feeling he’d miscalculated something. “About that, I need to explain-”

“Because that’s not the way I remember it,” Abbie continued as if he hadn’t spoken. She inserted the key card, opened the door, and stepped inside. Swinging around, she shrugged out of the coat and tossed it to him. “See, I thought you said saving me from that second gunshot paid your debt to me.”

The door closed on a distinctive click. Locked.

Well, shit. Smash the door with my fist or kick hell out of it with my boots?