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Mike slid in beside her the second Max moved out of the way and pulled out his phone.
She tried not to move too much and set off another round of vertigo. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Max started the truck and drove down the drive. “You’ve barely eaten in two days. You cry all the time. You don’t sleep.” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “It’s my fault. I thought having you take care of Ziggywould distract you and make you hungry. I should have known you weren’t up to it.”
“It’s not your fault—it’s mine.” She pressed her hands to her tired eyes and laid her head back.
Mike nudged her arm. “The other agent is following. We’ll stay with you the whole time.”
“Great.” She’d disrupted Max’s day and the agents protecting her.
“Who were you talking to on the phone?” Max asked, his voice soft.
“Mrs. Perry. Marcus’s mom. I’m not invited to the funeral. She wants the focus on the family, not the woman who got her son killed.”
“That’s bullshit. It’s not your fault. Your brother set this all in motion. He can end it. But where the fuck is he when you need him?” Max’s anger didn’t surprise her.
She’d put him out. He’d had to leave work to take care of her. “I’m sorry what’s happening to me is interfering with your life.”
“Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”
“There are a lot of things that are my fault. The apology stands.”
Max’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I’m not doing this with you now.” He was right.
They’d done this a long time ago. Probably best to let ancient history stay buried.
She didn’t remember the drive. She’d never forget the feel of Max’s hand on her face.
“Kenna, wake up. Open your eyes before I send for the emergency team.”
She opened them, then squinted at the bright light. “What?”
“We’re at the ER.”
“Great. I’m like a toddler—you put me in the car and I fall asleep.”
Max chuckled. “If you can’t sleep tonight, I’ll drive.”
The offer made her tear up again.
“Don’t do that. Please. Come on. Your guards are nervous enough about taking you from the ranch. If I make you cry on top of it, they’ll probably shoot me.” He was being nice and trying to make this less stressful.
“Thank you.”
“I don’t like this new super polite thing we do.”
“Thank you anyway.”
He frowned and backed away from the door, so she could slide out.
She wobbled a bit before she had her feet under her.
He took her gently by the arm to help support her, and they walked to the door and into the crowded waiting area.
Mike was on her other side, every eye in the room on the man with the gun. Luckily, he’d left the rifle—at the ranch, she hoped.
The other agent walked toward them. “Cubicle two. Doc will be there in a second.”
