Shane laughed and sat on the couch beside her. The cushions sank and Yael found herself leaning against him. When he wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulders, she didn’t resist. It felt good being in his embrace again. Almost too good, but she needed the comfort.

He shifted and removed his handgun from its holster and placed it on the coffee table.

She stared at the lethal-looking weapon then glanced at the door. “Are you worried he might follow us here?”

“We have people watching entrances and exits. Plus Novak keeps an assault rifle in a gun safe in his bedroom which I removed and loaded while you were in the bathroom. If that motherfucker comes at us here tonight, he will die.”

Yael opened her mouth but didn’t know exactly what to say. “I know I hate guns but I hate this guy even more. Thank you for helping me.”

Shane put his arm back around her shoulder and she yawned widely. Thanks to the alcohol, she was finally starting to feel sleepy.

“As for why he came at you when you were alone, he probably didn’t care if you were alone or not. He probably wouldn’t have cared if he’d known you were supposedly being protected by some asshole HRT operator who was stupid enough to believe the threat was over. He had a fully automatic rifle and probably figured that made him invincible. Not true, by the way. I wish I’d been there to demonstrate that fact.” His words dripped with guilt.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He tilted his head to catch her gaze. “Yes. Yes, it was. I’m big enough to shoulder my responsibility in this. I promised you and Alex Parker I’d look after you, and I failed.”

“You were in North Carolina for most of the day.”

“I was back when he attacked you.”

She looked away. Was she only a job to him? She swallowed with difficulty, her throat dry and scratchy.

“Yael.” His arm tightened and she looked at him. Those wintergreen eyes of his stared at her intently. “Are you sure he didn’t take anything?”

She blinked rapidly, not expecting the question. She hid her reaction by reaching for her drink and offering it to him. He shook his head and she drained the glass and put it back down on the table. The whiskey still burned but less now she was expecting it—a lot like heartache.

Avoiding his gaze, she snuggled back against him. “Not that I could tell.”

His silence felt accusatory and she didn’t want to have to deal with the questions that would follow if she told him the truth.