There’s something about the sudden softness in Blake’s voice that cuts through my panic like the sharpest blade. If he hadn’t arrested me, none of this would be happening.

I stuff back the panic and glare at him. “This is your fault. If anything happens to Jonathan, I swear to God, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what you did. I’ll go to every newspaper who will hear me and tell them what a douchebag you are and how you set me up and got my friend shot.”

His mouth presses into a line and he lowers his eyes from mine. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“Leave.”

His eyes lift and lock on mine. “If that’s what you want.”

“What I ‘want’ is to have never met you. What I ‘want’ is my job and my life and my friend back. What I ‘want’ is for you to die a slow, painful death a thousand times over. But I guess I’ll have to settle for never seeing you again.”

He winces. “Like it or not, you’re sort of stuck with me for now.”

“Get out!”

He stands and moves toward the door, but before he steps through, he turns back to me, and the almost-smile on his lips makes me madder than I already am. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

“RED? WAKE UP.”

I open my eyes and look down at Jonathan’s blurry form. “What?”

His image in the hospital bed sharpens as my eyes focus, and I realize I must have fallen asleep at his bedside. It’s been three days since we got run off the road, and my head is finally clear enough that they’re discharging me. There’s a bandage covering the gash over my right cheekbone, but it didn’t need stitches. What hurts more are the bruises across my right shoulder and left ribs where the seat belt was, and my right arm’s in a sling because my shoulder’s sprained. But I still came out of everything better off than Jonathan.

His eyes flick to the other side of the room and I follow his gaze to find Blake, leaning into the door frame with a gun strapped to the left side of his chest. I straighten up in my seat and wipe the drool off my chin with my sleeve.

“We’re ready to move you to the safe house,” he says, all business.

“Is Jonathan coming?”

Blake splits a glance between us. “No.”

“But . . .” I look at Jonathan. “You said you thought this was Ben.”

Jonathan’s eyes widen and shoot to Blake. “Seriously, man?”

For just an instant Blake’s jaw tightens, then he shrugs off the doorjamb and fixes me in his gaze. “As long as Jonathan is here, he’ll have our protection. But Arroyo wasn’t after Jonathan. He was after you. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

I’m stuck in Blake’s intense gaze until I feel Jonathan’s fingers thread into mine. “You need to go.”

I look down at him in the bed, then back at Blake. “Where am I going?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you. If anyone knows,” he says with a glance at Jonathan, “it would defeat the purpose.”

It kills me that he still doesn’t trust Jonathan. “What about my family . . . my parents? Can I call them?”

“If there’s anyone you need to call, you have a few minutes now, before we go. You can use your cell, but you’ll be leaving it here when we leave.”

I feel my eyes widen. “You’re taking my phone?”

He shrugs. “Sorry. We need to take every precaution.”

“What about the rest of my stuff. All my clothes are at Jonathan’s.”

“We’ve taken care of it,” he says, his eyes catching mine before he lowers them.

“I’ll hold onto your stuff, Red. You’ll be home soon,” Jonathan says. He lifts a hand and touches my bandages. “Did I mention how hot a chick with scars is?”

I’ve been avoiding thinking about that. “Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “They’re all over the fashion magazines.”

His eyes spark as he pokes at the ring through his lower lip with his tongue. “You think I’m joking? I’ll show you how hot when I get the fuck out of this hospital bed.”

I roll my eyes again. “One word, Jonathan. Ginger.”

He grins. “She’ll want one too. It’s gonna be the new thing. Plastic surgeons’ offices will be flooded with hot chicks wanting scars.”

You can question his methods all you want, but Jonathan’s heart is always in the right place. I squeeze his hand and turn to Blake. “I can call people now . . . before we go?”

“Anyone you want. But please don’t give them any details of your situation.” He lays a hand on the doorknob. “Do you need some privacy? There’s a room up the hall.”

“Give me a minute?”

Blake nods and slips through the door into the hall.

I wrap Jonathan in a one-armed hug. He squeezes me hard and it hurts my sprained shoulder, but I don’t let go.

“Listen,” he says in my ear, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t really think this was Ben, but I’ll see what I can find out. If I got you into this, I’m going to get you out.”

“You didn’t get me into anything but a job. A perfectly legal job,” I add with a glare at the door.

He gives me that cocky sideways smile and tweaks my chin. “There’s no way anything that hot is legal, Red. You’ve gotta know that.” I lean in to kiss his cheek, and he pulls me to his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay,” he says into my hair.

“You too.”

I pull back and find him grinning. He pounds a fist into his chest, but then winces. “Indestructible, baby.” I stand and he reaches for my hand. “Stay in touch, Red.”

“I’ll try.” I start to the door, but then shiver as something cold fingers up my spine. I turn back to him. “Jonathan?”

He grins at me. “Are you going to profess your undying love? Because I already know.”

I smile despite myself, but it falters when dread that I can’t explain coils in my gut. “Stay away from Ben, okay?”

He tips his head in a question.

“Just . . . please,” I say, my face scrunching in embarrassment. I have no idea where this is coming from but . . . “I have a bad feeling.”

He gives me a slow nod.

I move to the door and glance over my shoulder at him as I open it. “And I do love you.”

He smiles sideways. “I know.”

When I step into the hall, Blake is waiting for me. We dodge hospital staff, bustling all around with carts and gurneys, as he leads me up the wide corridor to a small conference room.

“Five minutes,” he says, closing the door.

I stare at my phone for a minute, working up all my courage and forcing the shake out of my limbs before dialing Mom. I don’t want her to hear how scared I am. When it goes straight to voice mail, I’m one part disappointed and three parts relieved. “Hey, Mom. I know I’m thrown out and all, but . . . I just wanted to tell you . . . I have to go away for a while. Everything’s okay but I just wanted you to know in case you called my cell and I didn’t answer or it was disconnected or whatever. I’ll call you when I can.”

I disconnect and blow out a breath.

Next, I call the shelter.

“Janice, it’s Sam,” I say when she answers. “How is Sabrina?”

“She’s doing better,” she says. “Finally interacting with the other residents, and she’s asking for you.”

My heart clamps in my chest. “I’m not going to be able to come in for a while.”

“Is something wrong, Sam?” she asks, alarm lacing her words.

“It’s just . . . something happened and I have to go away for a while. But give Sabrina a hug for me, okay. And tell her that I’ll come see her when I can. I’m so happy she’s doing better.”

“Is there something you need . . . something we can do to help?”

“It’s nothing anyone can really help with, but thanks, Janice. I’ll call when I can, okay?”

“I have to say, you’re worrying me a little bit. Can you just tell me what it’s about . . . if you’re okay?”

I rub a hand over my forehead. “I’ll be fine,” I tell her, and hope to God I’m not lying.

“Okay, Sam. Keep in touch.”

“I’ll try.”

I hang up and dial Izzy, not sure if she’s going to answer. Last I saw her, she was at a table in Benny’s, being questioned by the police. Is she under arrest too?