His hands clenched to fists on the word “celebrate.”

“Easy, big guy. Not like that,” Remi assured him, then frowned. “At least I don’t think so. He sure does call a lot though.”

He shook his head, deciding to file away the agent issue for later. “He shows up at your place, and then what happened?” he prompted.

“I was trying to change my clothes so I could go to the hospital. I didn’t want to leave Warren alone with her. I was hyperventilating a little.” He pinned her with a stare. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. A lot. He overreacted, called an ambulance, and they took me to the emergency department.”

“That’s where they discovered your arm was broken.”

“Yes. It’s also where I was escorted out by security after causing a scene in the trauma bay where they were stabilizing Camille. Raj stopped me from kneeing Warren in the balls. I haven’t forgiven him for that yet.”

She was getting worked up—he could tell by the hitch in her voice.

“Someone called for security, and Warren pretended to help Raj restrain me. He leaned in real close and he told me if I caused him any trouble at all, he’d take it out on Camille. He said her life depended on me.”

That fucking piece of shit was going to wish he’d never been born. Brick was going to make sure of it. He was going to destroy the man.

There were more questions. But they could wait, he decided. Enough of the pieces had fit together to give him a clearer picture to decide what happened next. He already knew Remington wasn’t going to like it.

“We were talking about you when it happened,” she said, her smile a little dreamy as she rested her chin on her knees. “Camille and I. Now, here we are. It’s ironic, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t ironic or coincidental. He and Remi had been drawn together since the day they met. She belonged to him.

That’s why she’d walked into his arms her first day back. Why she’d chosen the house across the street. Why she’d shared her bed and her secrets with him.

Jesus. She wouldn’t have told him, he realized.

“Would you have told me this if we hadn’t slept together?” he demanded, stopping in front of her and putting his hands on the arms of her chair.

She looked way up at him, amused. “No.”

Just the possibility of that what-if had his blood pressure spiking.

“Are you okay?” she asked again. “You’re breathing kind of heavy.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m fine,” he lied.

“You really don’t sound fine. How about I get you that water? Or maybe some cookies?”

He plucked her out of the chair and carried her over to the couch, where he sat with her in his lap and tried not to crush her against his chest.

“Do you believe me?” she asked, her fingers toying with the hair at the back of his neck.