With a sharp nod to his guys, they drag Coleman to the SUV and shove him in the back seat. One pulls out a knife as he slides in with him.
My brows jump up. Are switchblades FBI regulation? Thea finds my hand around her waist and grips it tight. I stroke my thumb over her knuckles to soothe her while we watch.
The lead agent flicks his gaze at us. He motions in our direction, then stalks off toward the house.
After watching his boss’ back for a moment, the remaining agent comes over. I blink in surprise when he stands in the pool of light from the open ambulance. This guy can’t be much older than Thea and I, maybe two or three years at most. He has tousled dark brown hair and a sick neck tattoo of a crow in flight. His coat is open, revealing ripped black jeans.
There’s no way these guys are real FBI.
“Need a statement. Shoo,” he says to the EMT working on me. The EMT gives the guy an unimpressed look. He chuckles and nods his head toward the house. “You have a problem with it, you can take it up with him. Trust me, he is in a pissy as fuck mood right now. Rough target for him to finally get his hands on.”
“Fine.” The EMT points at me. “Don’t think about leaving the scene. Coherent or not, you need to see a surgeon as soon as possible.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Thea assures him, squeezing my hand. “I’ll make sure of it.”
The fed imposter grins at her, winking. “You’re cute as a button.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. He lifts his hands in surrender.
“Just sayin’, man.” Once the EMT moves away, he gives me a once over. “Should’ve waited. Our way was a lot cleaner than all this fuss. Here.”
He hands me a thumb drive and doesn’t wait for an answer before walking back to meet up with the other guys.
“Do you know them?” Thea asks.
“I think so.”
When I look up, the imposter agents are piling into the SUV with a drawer from Coleman’s bureau and the computer tower. All the evidence of Coleman’s crimes. The doors slam, then the SUV peels out and speeds away.
Something tells me Coleman won’t make it to jail.
Whatever. The only thing that matters is Thea’s safety. I lean my head on hers, breathing easier when a hint of her sweet scent hits my nose.
Thirty-Nine
Connor
As the anesthesia from surgery wears off, I wake up groggy in a hospital room. Thea is by the bed, holding my hand as she dozes, her head resting on her folded arm. Her hand is re-bandaged.
“Hey, man,” Devlin says from a chair by the window, Blair asleep in his lap with her head on his shoulder and his coat draped over her.
“Time is it?” My tongue moves sluggishly and a gross metallic taste makes me grimace.
“Late. You got out of surgery at eleven and it took a couple of hours for the drugs to wear off.”
Out in the hall, I hear Mom’s grating voice, followed by Dad telling her to keep it down. She’s arguing about using this to turn around the approval ratings after they took a hit. The gunshot wasn’t a fatal injury, but Mom is here to put on her show anyway.
Rolling my eyes at her ridiculous bid for a boost in her numbers, I angle my head to get a look at the bandage covering my upper arm. It’s stupid that I’m even in the hospital. I told the paramedic I didn’t want to come, but Thea insisted to be on the safe side. I couldn’t refuse the pleading look she gave me.
“What’s the damage?”
“Stress fracture and stitches, but you’re lucky. It went in and out and missed anything vital. Minor fragments and the residue left behind, but the nurse said most of it was the force of impact to the tissue from close range.”
“Still hurts like a bitch.” I flop my head back to the pillow, easing my frustration by brushing Thea’s hand with my thumb. “Did you bring my computer?”
“Yeah, hang on.” Devlin nudges Blair, his smile tender as she makes a quiet sound. “He’s up. Want to sleep still?”
“No, I’m awake.” She moves off his lap, wrapping the peacoat around her shoulders. Her gaze shifts to me. “Glad you didn’t die.”
I snort, then regret it when it makes my arm throb. “Hi to you, too. Dev, can you also get the flash drive from the pocket of my jeans?”
Devlin gets my laptop out from a bag by his chair, then rummages through the plastic bag containing what’s left of my clothes in the corner. At all the movement, Thea startles awake, gripping my hand tighter. Her wide eyes relax once she realizes where she is.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Okay, baby?”
“Yeah, I was having a bad dream.” She presses her forehead to the back of my hand. “It wasn’t real.”
“It wasn’t.” I pat the bed. “Come here.”
“No, I don’t want to hurt you.” She gets up, gesturing with her hands. “You just got out of surgery!”
Gripping her wrist, I tug until she falls into an awkward position, bracing her arms on either side of me.
“Do I seem like I’m a severely injured invalid?” I run my good hand up her side. She no longer has the blood-stained coat on, down to a fuzzy yellow sweater and tan pants. “Come here, baby. I need you close.”
“Fine, but if the doctor comes in, I’m not taking the blame for any trouble we get in.”
“I’d break every rule just to have you close.”
She settles on her side next to me in bed, kissing my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I’m more glad that you’re okay.” I cup her face and pull her closer, capturing her lips in a kiss. Her body trembles as I hug her against my uninjured side, feeling the remnants of tension bleeding away. “It’ll all be okay now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She makes a soft sound of agreement, pressing her face into my neck. A hot wetness against my skin makes me squeeze her as tight as I can, trying to pull her pain onto my shoulders to help her bear the weight of what she faced tonight. When things have calmed down, I’ll be whatever she needs to support her through dealing with the emotional fallout of knowing she was a victim of grooming.
“Here.” Devlin brings the laptop and flash drive over, setting it up on the tray table.
I pull the tray closer with Thea’s help.
“What do you think is on it?” she asks.
My brow creases as I open the folder on the drive. From the scraps I know of the guys impersonating federal agents, it could be anything. “Let's find out.”
“Financial reports.” Devlin leans over my shoulder from the other side of the bed.
Not just financial reports. I jerk forward, trying to sit up, only to grit my teeth at the discomfort it causes. Some of the machines connected to me throw off warning beeps before settling down as I lay prone.
“What’s wrong?” Thea bounces her gaze from the screen to me. “Don’t move so much, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“They’re statements of my accounts.” I nod to each file. “Trust fund and the private accounts.”
The ones I use to grow my bitcoin investments.
“So they’re watching you?” Devlin clarifies.