“Into the limo,” Claire said. It seemed important to get it right, for some reason. “Saved me.”

Sort of, anyway. She really wasn’t sure what would have happened to her if Oliver had managed to take Myrnin out and had time to do whatever unpleasant thing he’d had planned, or if Pennywell had gotten hold of her. There were so many nasty possibilities.

“We need to get out of here,” Michael said. “Right now. Eve?”

She pulled her car keys out of her tiny black purse, hiked up her velvet skirt, and climbed behind the wheel of her big boxy sedan. Kim smoothly claimed the front passenger seat, leaving Claire in the back, sandwiched between Shane and Michael—which was not at all a bad place to be. She was shaking, she realized. She supposed that was shock or something. Shane held her left hand, and Michael her right, and she closed her eyes as Eve peeled rubber out of the parking lot, heading home.

Chapter 6

6

“Mom?” Claire looked at the clock, bit her lip, and prepared for the worst. “Hey. Sorry to be calling so late. We just got out of the concert—you know Michael was playing tonight, right? So I’m at the Glass House. I’m going to stay over tonight; I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Bye. Love you.”

She hung up and gave a long sigh, leaning back against Shane’s chest. “Thank God for voice mail,” she said. “I don’t think I could have done that if she’d picked up.”

He kissed her neck gently. “I don’t care what your parents say; I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not tonight.”

They were home, safe in the warmth of the Glass House. Michael had gone upstairs to change, but Eve was still there, slinking around in her glam-rags. Also, ugh, Kim was still with them.

But somehow it felt like the two of them were all alone.

Shane wrapped his arms around her, and she relaxed, all her fear bleeding away. Her small hand wrapped around his forearm, she felt so safe as she sensed his muscles moving underneath his velvety skin.

Even if she wasn’t really safe, ever.

“I need to thank Michael,” she said, and stopped to clear her throat. It didn’t make it feel much better. “He didn’t have to come after me.”

“I’d have killed his ass if he didn’t,” Shane said, and there was a grimness behind it that made her wince. “He wouldn’t let me come with him.”

“You could have gotten hurt in the crash.”

“He wasn’t worried about you.”

“He was. I was about to be dinner.”

Shane sighed and dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. “And he’d have a point.”

“He saved my life.”

“I get that. Could we stop talking about Michael for a second?” He sounded actually pained.

“You are not jealous.”