Under the Gun. HelenKay Dimon

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      Adam’s eyebrow lifted. “Other than the fact you killed your husband?”

      Nothing like being found guilty without a trial. “Allegedly killed.”

      “Does it sound better to you when you make that distinction?”

      “Answer this, Adam. Do you always judge people you don’t know?”

      Luke exhaled. “Maybe you two could spar another time. Like when I’m not bleeding to death.”

      “I see you’ve taken up exaggeration.” She worked on Luke’s arm, ignoring the pain that flashed in his eyes as she swiped the pad over his injury with delicate care. “Not a very attractive quality, by the way.”

      “Yeah, well, it’s a hobby.” Luke leaned over and tried to grab for something from the table. The move put his head right by her cheek and close enough for his breath to tickle her ear.

      As soon as his hair brushed her skin, he sat up straight. Even grunted.

      The quick move broke her trance. “What now?”

      “Hand me the needle and tape.” He barked out the order.

      And she ignored it.

      He sent her a wide-eyed surprised look. “I’m bleeding here.”

      “I’ll get it.” This time Adam did the shoving. Without any fanfare he crowded Claire to the side and away from Luke. Before Luke could argue, Adam started sewing. “You need anything else right now?”

      “An explanation from Claire here would be good,” Luke said.

      She glanced at the syringe and bottles sitting on the table. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

      Luke’s skin whitened as Adam worked. With each tug of the thread and poke through his skin, Luke’s mouth stretched flatter into a thin line. His jaw tightened to the point of breaking.

      “I’ll take her to the police after this.” Adam ignored Luke’s squirming. “We should end this now and get back to work.”

      She decided to focus on the latter point. “And exactly what is your work? You were clearly looking for something in that building and it wasn’t me. Wasn’t a painting, either.”

      “Speaking of that.” Adam put a hand on his hip and stared her down. “How did you know we’d be at that building?”

      She’d stalked Luke, of course, but admitting that was out of the question. “I got lucky.”

      Adam snorted. “Right.”

      “Don’t worry about Claire and her snooping. I’ve got this situation under control,” Luke said.

      Situation? She assumed that was his new pet name for her. Interesting how he couldn’t use his arm and was six seconds away from passing out but still thought he was in charge. Only the Y chromosome could result in that kind of bent logic.

      Luke inhaled. “Just call the office—”

      “You mean your antique storefront or your real job …” She hesitated until she knew she had their joint attention. “Whatever that job actually is.”

      Luke scowled in her direction before turning back to Adam. “Go back to the scene,” he said. “Claire and I are going to have a little talk.”

      She noticed Luke sounded more like police and less antique expert by the minute. “I’m fine, but thanks.”

      “Then?” Adam asked.

      “I’ll bring her in.”

      “Never going to happen.” And she meant it. Injury or not, she would knock Luke down, press against his wound. Do whatever it took to stay free.

      The idea of sitting in a cell and depending on the services of a court-appointed defense attorney made her head spin with fear. She knew how the system worked—poor people lost. Despite everything she had done in the last two years to escape her past, she had somehow slipped back into a situation where she had nothing. The exact place she’d spent her entire adult life trying to avoid.

      “One more thing.” Luke used his good hand to cuff Adam’s shoulder. “This all stays between us.”

      “How exactly do I explain the dead guy in the alley?”

      Claire shook her head. Antiques experts. Right.

      “You’ll think of something. I just need a little time with Claire.”

      “How much?”

      “Some. Might need a cover, too.” When Adam started to argue, Luke stopped him. “This isn’t up for debate.”

      Silence lingered while Adam just stood there. When he finally spoke again, he sounded anything but convinced. “You’ve got twenty-four hours.”

      Luke nodded. “Agreed.”

      “Not by me,” she muttered.

      “Just be careful.” Adam grabbed his keys but not before shooting Claire one last warning glare.

      She waited until the door closed to say anything. “I get the distinct impression your friend doesn’t like me.”

      “And here I thought you weren’t good at reading people.”

      She picked up a damp towel and wiped the area around Luke’s wound before taping a bandage over Adam’s surprisingly professional stitching. The process took a few minutes. Rather than haggle and argue, she used the quiet to come up with a plan to leave Luke before Adam’s twenty-four-hour deadline expired.

      She saw the mess of ripped paper and blood-drenched pads on the table. “You’ve ignored this question so far, but care to tell me why a businessman keeps a syringe in his bathroom?”

      He smiled in a way that was more warning than welcoming. “Why? Want to learn a new way to get rid of your next husband?”

      “I see you’ve decided to be as much of a jerk as possible.” She threw the towel on the table and plunked down in the chair Adam had abandoned.

      “Some people like me,” Luke said.

      She didn’t doubt that one bit. From creeping around and watching him for the past few weeks, she knew about his dating life. Women came over, stayed the night, and a new one showed up a few nights later. It was an endless parade of blondes and brunettes, each one looking easier than the one before her.

      But that wasn’t Claire’s business. Her focus was on clearing her name. Like it or not, she needed help for that. When the whole town judged you guilty, you had to find someone who didn’t. Luke didn’t fit in that believer category yet, but she hoped he would.

      “What’s the plan now?” she asked.

      “You tell me what happened to your husband.”

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