“Antoine Armand’s nasty piece of work cousin?” Hunt asked.

Harlow shuddered. “He’s the one who shot me. He tried to shoot Easton.”

A muscle ticked in Hunt’s jaw. “Now I need to know what the fuck is going on.”

“Talk to Vander,” Easton said. “I need to take care of Harlow.” He lifted her and carried her toward a Norcross SUV. Saxon appeared and tossed a set of keys at Easton.

“Scarlett?” Harlow called out.

“She’s safe,” Saxon said. “How about you worry about you right now, sweetheart?”

She nodded at Saxon and then turned her head, her gaze catching on the ruined Aston. “Oh, Easton, your car.”

“It’s just a car.”

“A really expensive car.”

He opened the passenger door of the X6 and set her down.

“I can replace it.” He cupped her cheek. Damn, his hand was a bit unsteady. “I can’t replace you.”

“I’m okay, Easton.”

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson about attacking men with guns.”

Her gaze met his, strong and steady. “I’d do it again.”

He felt those words deep in his gut. “Harlow—”

“I heard someone got hit and needs patching up,” a deep, gritty voice said.

Easton glanced back over his shoulder and then heard Harlow gasp.

The man standing there looked like a darker, edgier version of Hunt. He had a long, rangy body, a lot of scruff across his hard jaw, and light-brown hair in need of a cut. He had the same green eyes as his brother. He was in black jeans, with a tight, black Henley, and a battered, tan-leather jacket. He was holding a large, black bag in one hand.

“I got shot,” Harlow said.

The newcomer raised a brow.

“Nicked,” Easton said.

“It’s bleeding, a lot,” Harlow said. “And it hurts, a lot.”

The man’s lips twitched. “You find yourself a little wildcat, Norcross?”

“Yep,” Easton replied.

Harlow sniffed. “My name is Harlow.”

“And I’m Morgan. Ryder Morgan.” Ryder set the bag down, and Easton stepped aside to let him treat Harlow.

“Wow, you look like Hunt, but different.” She cocked her head. “You look like Hunt decided to go undercover, or turned to the other side of the law.”

Ryder’s lips twitched. “You are a sassy one.”

Easton crossed his arms. “She has no problem telling people what she thinks. Even her boss.”

Ryder raised a dark brow. “You work for him?”

“Temporarily.”

“I want to know, does he ever sleep?”

Her cheeks pinkened. “Yes.”

Ryder laughed. “Well, Harlow, I can assure you that I pay all my taxes, and I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

Easton snorted.

Ryder grinned and snapped on some gloves. “Hey, skirting around in the gray doesn’t make me a criminal.” He reached for Harlow’s arm. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” He looked at her shoulder, pulling her shirt down to bare her bicep. “Nick.”

Harlow rolled her eyes.