The Heat Is On Read online

  “Bella.”

  She turned and found a grim-looking Ethan, and nearly lost it at the familiar face.

  Right. She had to talk to the police.

  Yet again.

  “Oh, Christ,” he said when he got a good look at her. “Were you hit?”

  “No, it’s Jacob’s blood.”

  He backed her into the kitchen, keeping a tight grip on her until she sat in a chair. Without a word, he went to the refrigerator and got her a bottle of water. “Drink,” he said, and went to the sink to wet a towel.

  “Someone shot him,” she said softly.

  “I know.” Gently he pulled the shawl off her, then ran the towel over her arms. He rinsed it out, then handed it back to her, presumably so that she could do her own torso. “What did you see?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I saw nothing. I got a sort of hinky feeling, and I shrugged it off.” She shook her head. “Willow came back for her purse—”

  “Willow was here?”

  “Yes, briefly. After she left, I came to the back door here to leave, and nearly tripped over him. He was just lying there.” Her hand was shaking so badly she couldn’t drink. “And I’m shaking. I never shake.”

  He shrugged out of his shirt and wrapped it around her. “Are you going to take me to the station again?” she asked him.

  “I’m not a complete asshole. I’m going to wait for you to collect yourself, then I’m going to drive you to the hospital to see him.”

  She lifted her head and met his gaze. “You’re worried about him, too.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Yeah.”

  She stood up. “Consider me collected.”

  He looked her over as if to make his own assessment, then he reached for her hand and took her to his car.

  12

  GETTING SHOT SUCKED. Being X-rayed and MRI’d sucked. Lying in a hospital bed sucked.

  Jacob kept his eyes closed because somehow he hurt less that way. What else sucked? he wondered. Oh, yeah, wearing a stupid hospital gown with his ass hanging out—

  At the slight rustle at his side, he gave up the pity party and opened his eyes.

  The room immediately started spinning wildly. Thank you, morphine.

  The lights were low. He could hear the soft muted sounds of monitors and sensed activity just outside his door, but inside his room, all was fairly quiet.

  Turning just his head, he came face-to-face with Bella. She was sitting in a chair by his bed, hunched over the raised mattress, head down on her folded arms.

  Given her slow, even breathing, he concluded she was sleeping. Her hair was a wild, riotous wreck. He was fairly certain there was blood in it, and his heart picked up speed until he realized it was probably his. She wore a man’s shirt, not his, shoved up to the elbows, and with her face turned to the side, he could make out the very faint tracks of whisker burns on the underside of her jaw.

  Those were his.

  She was a quiet, tousled, clearly exhausted mess, and maybe it was the fact that he was as high as a kite, but no one had ever looked better to him.

  The door opened behind her, but thanks to what he knew from experience was a combination of a severe adrenaline letdown and an emotional exhaustion, she didn’t so much as stir as his brother Austin walked in.

  He and Jacob were only a year and a half apart, and on a normal day, when one of them wasn’t lying in a hospital bed trussed up with bandages and on some good mind-altering drugs, they could have passed for twins. Dark hair, matching dark eyes and a tendency for walking headfirst into trouble.

  “Just talked to your doctor—” Austin glanced at Bella, raised a brow, then silently sat on the other side of Jacob’s bed. “That her?”

  “Who?”

  “The woman you went out with, the one you dropped off the face of the planet for over the past few days.”

  Jacob felt the stupid smile cross his lips and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Her name is Isabella Manchelli—Bella. She works at Edible Bliss. She’s a pastry chef and a friend.”

  “Great,” Austin said. “But none of that answered my question.”

  “Keep it down, she’s asleep.”

  Austin raised a brow. He looked Bella over, taking in the wild hair, the way her mouth was slightly open, and he smiled. “She’s cute.”

  Bella shifted, turned her head over to the other side, and in the process, lifted up briefly enough to reveal more blood in her hair.

  Austin’s smile faded. “Tell me she’s not hurt.”

  “It’s my blood. Tell me what the doctor said.”

  “X-ray and MRI were negative, no bullet fragments. Mild concussion. You’re going to hurt like a son of a bitch, but while you’re in here you get morphine. You’re probably going to be woken every two to three hours, but the good news is that the nurse on duty is pretty damn hot. Still, the next time you’re going to be stupid enough to stand on the back stoop of a woman who tends to get her men shot at, the least you could do is wear a vest.” He paused and looked over Bella again. “So you’re dating her?”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because you met her through a singles club. Seems kind of cheesy, man.”

  “Should I have met her on a bar stool like you meet your one-night stands?”

  “So she’s a one-night stand?”

  Their gazes met and Jacob sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t think straight. Are you on the merry-go-round or am I?”

  Cord entered the hospital room at a dead run, or more accurately, a limping run on a leg that hadn’t quite healed yet. Eyes a little wild, he stopped short and gripped the doorjamb. “You were shot.”

  “Yeah,” Jacob said.

  “You’re breathing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And wasted,” Austin added.

  Cord let out a slow, careful breath, then sank to a chair. “I didn’t get details, just a text from Mr. Talkative here, and I—” He broke off with a shake of his head and put a hand to his heart. “Christ, man.”

  “I’m okay,” Jacob said. “Though you’ve split into two. You need some help.”

  Cord just stared at him. “Christ,” he finally said again. He hadn’t been back from his last overseas mission all that long and was still a little jumpy. “What I need is whatever you’re on.” He turned to Austin. “Prognosis?”

  “Hard head still intact, and expected to make a full recovery,” Austin told him. “He’s going to be okay, Cord.”

  Cord nodded but still looking shaken, leaned his head back to the wall.

  Austin turned to Jacob with a raised brow. “Why don’t you tell baby brother here how you’re on, what, date number three? With the same woman. That woman, in fact.” He gestured to a still-sleeping Bella.

  That seemed to knock Cord out of his own thoughts. “She must be a walking fantasy or something.” He cocked his head. “Kinda hard to tell with the crazy hair.”

  “Fantasy,” Jacob repeated, brain fuzzy. “We knocked out fantasy number one. Need to move on to fantasy number two.”

  That had both Austin and Cord giving each other a speculative look. “What’s fantasy number two?” Austin wanted to know.

  “Her in her apron and nothing else.”

  Cord grinned, the hauntedness and hollowness gone from his gaze. “Those must be some good drugs.”

  Austin took in Jacob’s expression and shook his head. “Oh, Christ.”

  “What?” Jacob asked, his eyes at half mast now. They were closing on him without his permission.

  “You’ve got that look, the same stupid, love-struck look that Cord had right before he admitted he’d fallen for Lexi.”

  “Hey,” Cord said. “True, but—hey.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m just high,” Jacob said in his own defense.

  “I actually hope that’s true,” Austin said. “Because if you fall, too, that leaves me hanging out here all alone, and even I can’t handle all the single women in town by myself.”

  Cord grinned. “Y