He always did manage to pull that image off better than me and Hawk. Then again, his tattoo peeks over the starched collar of his white shirt. Red roses, with so many bloody thorns…

“Who is he?” Raylin whispers, trying to move away but unable to, trapped under me. “What happened? Was that a bomb?”

“Bomb? Nah.” Rook grins at Ray, giving her a once-over. “Storm here left the stove on.”

“Damn you, Rook.” I shove at him, anger clearing my head. “Get out and stop ogling my girl.”

Ray makes a funny sound, and Rook huffs.

What? “Ray, meet Rook, one of my best friends.”

She says nothing. Rook glances from her to me and back, his grin growing bigger.

What the fuck is wrong with these guys?

God, my head is killing me. My back aches. The stench of blood is still there, and every movement causes a fresh spill down my back. I start reaching over my shoulder to check, and Rook grabs my arm in a flash.

He lowers it, face locked in a dark scowl. “You’re bleeding, you moron. Wait for the doctor.”

I stare at him stupidly.

Raylin curls a hand around my forearm, eyes wide. “You’re hurt?”

“It’s nothing,” I mutter. I like the light pressure of her fingers on my flesh.

“I was inside the building when I heard the explosion,” Rook says. “I thought a doctor might come in handy, and it just so happens my family has one on the payroll.”

“Jeez,” Raylin mutters, releasing my arm to better cover her tits. I stare at the soft mounds straining over her folded arms and lick my lips, distracted. “Don’t get too worried about your best friend getting caught in an explosion. You might strain something.”

That makes me grin. Hey, she’s on my side.

“Didn’t call the police to avoid the vultures,” Rook says, ignoring her comment, but getting up and pulling an afghan from one of the chairs and throwing it to her. She wraps it around herself, glaring daggers. “Better keep them off our backs. Let’s last at least a day, huh? A day without reporters hanging outside your windows, snapping photos.”

God, yeah. And despite his cool attitude, I know he’s worried. But Rook doesn’t show much on the outside, unlike Hawk who wears his heart on his sleeve, twisted and dark as it is. Rook is cool and steady, a boiling, writhing mess that may explode at any moment.

Speaking of explosions…

“Someone’s after me.” I glare at him. “Told you, man.”

“Bullshit. You left the stove on. Ceramic exploded. Happens to everyone.”

“Fuck you, Rook. I didn’t turn on the stove. We ordered take-out, for chrissakes.”

“And you accidentally turned on the stove. It’s a touch pad. You probably had a little gas leak, too. You’re not being hunted, you’re being absent-minded and clumsy. Nothing new there, pal, so will you quit with the conspiracy theories?”

“You’re an asshole.” Maybe I was wrong. He’s not putting on a cold façade. He’s a bastard through and through. “Can you smell any gas, huh? I didn’t turn on the stove. And I’m not fucking clumsy.”

“And you shouldn’t say things like that to people who’ve known you since you wore a fucking bib.”

I suck a deep breath through my teeth, trying to calm down before I deck Rook. It wouldn’t be the first time we fought and ended up bloody.

Not a good time. I try to center myself. I fist my hands in the cover, feel the mattress dip under my shins, feel the goddamn wound in my back throb and bleed.

Fuck. My. Life.

That calming, centering thing? Not working.

“So you two are friends?” Ray clears her throat. “Like, for real?”

“Known him since he wore diapers,” Rook says with a sniff. “Kept falling over and knocking over the furniture. Which is why I’m saying: clumsy.” He lifts his chin, daring me to contradict him.

“All lies,” I mutter, although I can’t remember my childhood. My parents’ accident somehow erased my earlier memories. All that’s left is that night, and even that…

“He didn’t learn to walk properly until he was four.”

“That’s a lie, right?” Ray asks but I see doubt in her eyes.

Doubt about me. About my allegations. About my fears.

I still want to punch Rook, but it seems he got the first hit in while I wasn’t looking. My gut is a knot. What if he’s right? I’ve considered the possibility so many times.

What if I’m wrong?

With a grunt, I heave myself off her and swing my legs off the bed to sit on the edge. “I need to see my lawyers.”

“Easy there, dragon.” Rook gets up and checks around the door. “Wait for the nice doc. And here.” He throws my pants at me. “Your dick’s hanging out. Don’t give the man a coronary.”

“You think he’ll get a coronary from seeing my dick?” I pull the pants over my lap but I’m not sure I can bend over to pull them on. “Doctors see dicks all the time.”

“Dicks like you are one in a million. Dickhead.” Rook shakes his head with a snort and leaves the room, presumably to check if the doctor is here.

“You have weird friends,” Raylin says, scooting forward until she’s kneeling by my side.

“Tell me about it.”

She swallows hard. “Storm, you… You have a piece of glass sticking out of your back. Oh my God.” She covers her mouth with her hand, her face paling.

“I’ll be fine.” I reach for her, kinda awkwardly because my upper back—or the piece of ceramic stuck in it—hurts like a mother, and I put an arm around her, drawing her to my side. “It doesn’t hurt,” I lie.

She’s quiet for a few seconds, snuggling closer. Her soft hair tickles my nose. It smells of roses.

So fitting.

“Could he be right?” she whispers.

“About what?” Despite the ache in my back and the throbbing in my head, her scent, her body pressed to mine manages what nothing else can. I start to relax, my lungs able to draw in more air.

“About this being an accident. About the stove.”

“He’s an ass. And we need to move out of here, hide somewhere.” But instead of moving, I close my eyes and rest my cheek on her hair, trying to imagine we’re the only people in the world and all the shit flying around us won’t hit us.

“But it’s possible, right?”

“Anything’s possible.”

Like falling for a girl wanted by a triad and being so clumsy I almost killed us both by placing a takeout bag on top of the stove. Right?

Fuck, it sure is possible, no question. But is it true?

RAYLIN

I’m struggling to hold it together and not freak out—I mean, there’s a frigging piece of glass stuck in Storm’s back, and he’s bleeding, and white as a ghost, and looking completely out of it. Maybe it’s time to panic and start screaming.

Or not. Raylin O’Brien doesn’t panic. She doesn’t scream. Focus on the important stuff.

“So I’m your girl?” I ask.

And wince. Oh good job. That’s the important stuff? For shame, Ray.

He huffs, a tiny puff of air ruffling the top of my head, making me shiver. “He was looking at you.”

I stiffen. “So you said it just to stop your friend from ogling me?”

“Ogling…?” The huff comes again. “Would you rather I let him?”

Disappointment tastes bitter on my tongue. “Of course not.”

That wasn’t my question. Guess I got my answer anyway. He didn’t mean it, it wasn’t even out of jealousy that he said it. It was so that I feel comfortable.

Should be good enough. Even injured he thought about me, how to put me at ease. Then why doesn’t it feel like it’s enough?

Fucking, I remind myself, doesn’t mean anything. Not to men, and especially not to young millionaires with the world at their feet.

“You should stay away from me,” he says, confirming my thoughts. “It’s dangerous.”

“Because you’re clumsy?”

I can feel his grin on top of my head. I’m so aware of him, it’s as if he’s under my skin, as if we’re sharing the same nerve-endings. “Right.”

He doesn’t believe it was an accident. After what he told me back at the beach, who can blame him? But apparently Hawk and Rook, his best friends, do believe it. It’s so confusing.