face getting back in the bed. And yet, her body demanded it. The couch was a good compromise.
Caden had been all over working to find out who the shooters were, but even Annie—one of the bureau’s best technical analysts—with her incredible resources hadn’t been able to discover who the sedan belonged to, although she’d concluded that the plates had been stolen from a car similar to the one they’d used.
Great.
Sarah set her water bottle on the coffee table and aimed the remote at the television.
“Hungry?” Gavin asked, stepping into the room, hands behind his back.
“Not really.”
“Not even for ice cream?”
Her taste buds perked up. “What kind?”
“Mint chocolate chip or strawberry.”
“Both.”
He smiled and pulled his hand from behind his back. “I thought that might be your answer.” He handed her the bowl that held four scoops of ice cream. Two of each flavor.
Her jaw dropped. “How did you know?”
“A good guess.”
“Or Caden?”
“Nope, he’s not here. The credit is all mine.”
“That’s a lot of ice cream.”
“You can eat it. The calcium is good for you.”
“Yeah, but what about the sugar?” She took a bite of the creamy sweetness and closed her eyes to savor it. When she opened them, Gavin had taken a seat in the recliner. He eyed her with amusement. “What?” she asked.
“You really like ice cream, don’t you?”
Heat crept into her cheeks. She loved ice cream. “Shut up.” She said the words without rancor and earned herself a grin.
Which faded all too soon. “Someone tried to kill you today,” he said. “Or at least do some permanent damage.”
She raised a brow. “Me? Why couldn’t it be you?”
Gavin hesitated, seemed to think about something, then leaned forward. “Okay, I’m going to tell you something because I think you need to know it.”
She stilled. “What?”
“Your father’s been receiving threats.”
“What kind of threats?”
“He’s made some enemies in the Middle East. Most specifically in the Helmand and Kandahar provinces.”
“That doesn’t really surprise me. He has to make decisions that don’t always resonate well with others—especially terrorists.”
Gavin rubbed his hands together, causing the tattoos on his arms to ripple. “I talked to your dad quite a bit while you were recovering.”
“He’s not a dad. He’s a general.” A pause. “And I didn’t realize you two were on such friendly terms.” She’d admit to being curious—and wary.
“We weren’t. I knew who he was, of course, but hadn’t met him until he contacted me to lead your rescue. I also didn’t realize he was your father until I helped Asher keep Brooke safe last year when they were caught up in that organ trafficking ring.”
She shuddered. “That was truly awful. All that aside, what are you trying to say?”
“He’s not sure your kidnapping and subsequent transport to Omar’s compound was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Sarah closed her eyes, not wanting to relive the nightmare, but unable to stop the flashes. Rough hands, terror, gunshots. Her guard’s face exploding milliseconds after she pulled the trigger. She sucked in a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I still think about the man I thought I killed. I could have sworn that was my bullet that . . .”
“It wasn’t. Ballistics proved it. One of mine hit him and so did the soldier’s behind you.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t responsible, even though he was so . . . evil.” A shudder rippled up her spine. “I saw his eyes just before I pulled the trigger and there wasn’t anything there. Just black pits of darkness.”
“And he’ll never hurt anyone again.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on all of that. What were you saying about the kidnapping? It was something more than a random thing?” She was quite proud of her outward composure.
“He said he was worried your kidnapping had something to do with the threats against him. It was one of the reasons he did what he did with getting you discharged.” He held up a hand when she started to protest. “I’m not saying what he did was right, I’m just telling you the reasoning behind it.”
Sarah snapped her lips shut, keeping a tight rein on the bubbling rage. “You’re defending him.”
“No. But maybe trying to understand and . . . explain him?”
“You’re trying to explain him?” Of all the nerve. “That’s almost worse. You don’t know him well enough to be able to do that.” She paused. “And if you do, then it’s time for you to leave.”