Page 68 of Dear John
“Your ex,” he said, chewing the last of the scone.
“Shawn?” I laughed at that. “He’s?—”
“In the hospital. Not dead. And if you think a man who tried to blow you up wouldn’t put a hit out on you, then you’d be wrong.”
“But I didn’t do anything!”
“Somehow, I doubt that matters.”
“But…did he?”
His face hardened slightly. “Not that I can tell.”
“Not that you can tell? What does that mean? He might, but you’re not sure yet?”
“Precisely.”
“But I don’t?—”
He gripped my hand, instantly calming me. My eyes shot up to meet his. Instead of the aloof expression from just moments ago, his eyes were pure steel. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to be scared. I told you because you can handle it, and you deserve to know the truth.”
The truth. He was here because of Kavanaugh. That explained so much—why Kavanaugh followed me to my meeting and why he wouldn’t leave my side. He thought Shawn was after me again, and instead of telling me about it, he hid it from me.
More fucking secrets.
“I think I need to go.” I shoved back from my chair, no longer interested in the food or coffee.
“I’ll walk you to the hotel.”
I nodded absently, running through it all in my mind. It was unbelievable. Shawn was in the hospital. I just couldn’t believe he would do something so crazy, and yet…IKE was right. If he was willing to blow me up, why wouldn’t he escalate to something like this?
Before I even realized it, IKE had my arm and was guiding me out the door. There was a protective air to how he was holding me, making me feel safe when my nerves were frazzled. Knowing he was here watching was enough to put a hold on the fear and allow me to function again.
“Thank you for walking me back.”
He shot me a side-long glance, his eyes burning with questions. Finally, he nodded. “You’re welcome.”
It was as if no one had ever told him thank you before. “So, you think there’s not actually a threat.”
“Not likely, no.”
“Then…everything’s okay. I don’t need to worry about people running me down at stoplights or standing too close to windows.”
“I doubt it would happen that way, but no, I don’t think it’ll be an issue.”
We stopped in front of the hotel and IKE pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up as he leaned against the building.
“You shouldn’t smoke. It’ll kill you.”
“So will stepping out in front of a bus.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t do that on purpose.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Eating too many pastries will kill you too.”
“Well, I’m not going to avoid food.”
“I’m not avoiding cigarettes,” he countered. “I guess we’re both screwed.”