“She’s here,” Diesel repeated. “Waiting for you at your hotel. She loves you, Grant, and you’ve worried her today.”

Grant’s eyes filled with tears and he looked at the blanket he held. “Oh God,” he whispered, and put the blanket down. “Oh my God.” Picking up a Bible from the chair at Kaiser’s bedside, he walked toward Diesel, his gait stiff, like he’d woken from a long sleep. He glanced at Marcus, then at Scarlett, who stood in the doorway. “I thought I could listen to him and I’d be okay. But I couldn’t. I just got so mad.” He blinked and the tears fell. “I’m just so damned angry.”

“I know,” Diesel murmured. “So am I. Come on, Grant. Let’s get out of here. The bastard’s not worth any more of your energy. Save it for your wife and kids.”

That was what Diesel was doing—channeling his anger into the focus he needed to get through the pain so that he could get somewhere safe. With Dani.

She was his safe place.

He heard her, always thoughtful, telling the nurse that “Father Emerson” needed just a moment to collect himself. She too understood the rage that came with loss. Understood how it could drag you under if you allowed it.

Diesel held his breath as Marcus pulled the wheelchair from the room and Grant followed. The officer on duty resumed his post, seemingly unaware of what had nearly transpired.

When they were clear of the room, Scarlett took Grant’s arm and led him from the ICU into the hall by the elevator. Then, thankfully, let him go.

Diesel hadn’t been sure that she would. He thought he’d have to intervene on behalf of the man who’d learned in one day that he had lost both his siblings. But Diesel saw nothing but compassion in Scarlett’s eyes. And Dani’s. He couldn’t see Marcus, but he assumed the same.

“What did you mean?” Diesel asked. “You thought you could listen to him?”

Grant’s shoulders sagged. “I wanted to know why. He told himself he was protecting people. He might have even believed it. But he fed on their pain. He . . .” He swallowed. “He cut them up while they were still alive. He did that to Wesley. He told me how my brother suffered. He . . . got off on it. I think I just lost it.”

Dani rubbed Grant’s back comfortingly. “That had to be hard to hear.”

“Yeah.” Grant shuddered, then looked Scarlett in the eye. “Here.” He dug in his pocket and Scarlett stiffened, going for the gun holstered at her hip, then relaxed when Grant handed her Wesley’s cell phone.

“You ‘forgot’ to give it to me last night?” Scarlett said wryly.