babbling, seeing as he spent the dinner sitting next to her with her face the way it looked, his arm in a sling, putting up with people not in their crew sending them pitying looks, probably thinking they got in a car wreck or something.
Mag never thought he’d wish for a car wreck, but he’d prefer that to the reality that he’d let it get to the point where Evie had been dragged from her home, then tied to a chair and beaten.
He found the Fireball wasn’t in the freezer, it was on the counter.
Apparently, Evie and/or her girls had helped themselves to his crutch.
It was not as good at room temp as when it was chilled, but he wasn’t going to quibble.
He was pulling down shot glasses when Evie said, “Thanks, that’s really appreciated. You take care too. ’Bye.”
He had his hand wrapped around the bottle but his eyes to her when she took the phone from her ear.
“My apartment manager,” she explained. “He shared he was not entirely at one with the police coming and going, dusting for prints and the like. And he was definitely not at one with gunplay on the landing, but he assured me the window is all boarded up, my door is secure, and he’s promised to have that window replaced Monday, latest Tuesday. Even so, he was worried there might be something of value in there some other hooligan, his word, might wish to commit a crime to take from me and that boarded-up window might not be much of a deterrent. But since Lottie and Ava brought over my jewelry and three pairs of my Chucks, and the rest I don’t care about, it’ll all be good. Except the Chucks that were left behind, and no one will take those. Though I’d like to swing by tomorrow and grab my vinyl.”
She paused to take a big breath, then finished.
“And the rest of my Chucks.”
“We’ll do that,” Mag told her, and finally turned his attention to pouring the shots.
“I’ll do that. I’ll ask Boone or Auggie or Axl to go with me,” she said, approaching him at the island. “You’re gonna drink that shot you shouldn’t drink after losing a goodly amount of blood today, then you’re going to go lie down, and tomorrow, you’re going to rest all day.”
He had to admit, she was taking all of this a fuckuva lot better than he’d ever have called it.
He also had to admit, it might have something to do with the blood loss, more to do with the pain, most to do with the emotion of the day, but he was fucking wiped.
Dead on his feet.
And last, he had to admit, she was normally cute when she was bossy.
But no way in fuck was she going anywhere without him until he had visions of her lying on her side, tied to a chair, with an asshole holding a gun crouched over her under control in his head.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he muttered, using his glass to push her glass toward her then taking his, and he downed the fire.
He put the glass down and refilled.
“Danny,” she said softly, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his wrist. “Maybe you should go easy on that.”
He couldn’t go easy on it until he knew she was settled and he could swallow a pill, which would probably knock him out.
This was because it was boiling inside him.
Christ.
And he didn’t want to let her down. Hawk down.
Himself down.
But he was either going to shoot that shot or throw it across the room.
He was about to tell her she needed to let him do what he needed to do when her phone rang again.
She’d set it on the island.
She looked down at it.
He looked down at it.
It said STEPDAD ROB.
Seeing as she’d shared over dinner, and everyone who’d been witness to it had crowed how awesome it was (and Mag wished he hadn’t missed it), Mag was in the know about her activities that day in regard to her family.
In the know and down with every decision she made.
So, he was not all that down with the stepdad phoning.
Evie looked up at him.
“I think he’s worried about me and he’s the only one who’s given a shit throughout all this, so I think I should talk to him real quick just to let him know I’m okay.”
Legos and groceries and heading out in the dead of night to meet some asshole in a Lincoln Continental, Evie