I grabbed a kitchen towel that was draped over the oven door handle, gave it to South. He pressed it to his wound.

“You need to get her out of here. Away,” South said, his eyes meeting mine. They were deadly serious. Angry.

I nodded. “Already on it. I’ve got a place.”

North gave up on her search and spun on her high heel. Her wide eyes met mine, then South’s. “Away?”

“They sure as shit weren’t shooting at me,” South said, holding the towel to his arm. “Jed’s going to protect you while we figure out what’s going on.”

“We?” North asked, clearly confused.

“Your brothers,” South countered. “The three guys you saved. It’s time to save you right back.”

“But—”

“You’re going with Jed,” South commanded.

I’d kidnap North from her own brother if he’d said anything else. Thank fuck I didn’t have to cold cock a guy who’d been shot and do so.

“We should call the police,” North replied. While she appeared calm, I couldn’t miss the way her hands shook. She was probably used to working well under pressure, but there was a big difference between a cutthroat business deal and being shot at.

This was where I excelled. It was my job to save people from the bad guys. I’d been trained to do so. I’d left in the middle of the night to give her space and time. That was fucking gone now. The schedule had been moved up. The second I saw her at that wake, I knew I was fucked. That I didn’t give a shit if she were guilty or not. She was my woman.

I’d remained undercover, kept that a secret even after what we’d done. Until now.

North Wainright was more important than my job. More important than anything else in the world.

So I told her the truth. Even if she hated me, I was the best one to keep her alive. Then I could grovel and do whatever it took. People said make-up sex was the best. I hoped I’d find out.

“I am the police,” I said.

South stilled, narrowed his eyes.

North shook her head. “Yeah, I know you got fired from the FBI, but that doesn’t do us any good. We need law enforcement now.”

I went over to North, took the tube of antibiotic ointment I hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, dropped it on the kitchen table.

“South, there’s a burner phone on the table for you. I programmed in my number. You can reach us on it.”

“Got it,” he replied.

Her blue eyes were wild, but she was calm. Relatively. Her car had been shot up and her brother had a bullet graze on his arm. I was calm too. Relatively.