he paramedics moved Dave quickly from the ambulance and into the ER.

Decker grabbed Tracy as she, too, emerged, ready to hustle her away from the hospital entrance. But she had a splint on her ankle, and he must’ve had a terrible look on his face when he saw it because she said, “I think I just sprained it when he pushed me.”

He pushed her.

Gavin Michaelson had grabbed her, held her at gunpoint, and pushed her—and if he’d had the chance, Decker had absolutely no doubt, he would have killed her.

And even though a nurse’s aide was bringing out a wheelchair, Decker swept Tracy into his arms and carried her into the hospital.

“Are you all right?” she asked him. “Jimmy said he saw you get shot.”

“I’m fine,” he said curtly. “Body armor. I’m just a little bruised.”

Another nurse tried to stop him. “The triage station is up front—”

“You’ll have to do it in the back,” he told her. “I’m getting her away from these windows.”

Jules Cassidy was right behind him. “FBI,” he told the nurses, giving them his trademark adorable smile. “Sorry for the disruption. And just to make things even more exciting, there’s going to be some guards coming in. We’ll try our best to comply with as many rules as we can.”

Tracy was not happy as Decker carried her into an empty room. “We didn’t catch him—Gavin?”

Jules shook his head. “Not yet.”

“But we will,” Decker promised her.

And as she gazed at him, into his eyes, she nodded. “Good,” she said. She glanced at Jules, who was standing in the open door, and said to Decker, “You can put me down now. People are already starting to talk. I know how much that bothers you.”

Decker put her down. And then he kissed her, because she looked as if she had another fourteen paragraphs to say about the fact that people were talking about them, and how he should be worried about that, when in fact, he didn’t give a flying shit.

“I’ll, uh, just...” Jules cleared his throat. “Let me know when you have a minute—I need to, um... Good.” Decker heard the click as the FBI agent closed the door.

But then he tasted salt, and he realized that Tracy was crying.

“Hey,” he said.

“I wanted this to be over,” she told him. “I’m sorry to be such a baby, but I wanted—”

“I know.”

“I should have shot him,” Tracy said. “He was three feet away—how could I have missed?”

“Because you’re a receptionist?” he said.

She smiled, but it was far too fleeting.

“The truck was moving,” Deck reminded her. “You’ve never fired a handgun before, so you pulled your shot way left. You also probably closed your eyes, which doesn’t help with aiming. The good news is that you scared Michaelson away—and you didn’t hit Dave.”

“Yay, me,” she said, but again, she got serious really fast. “Deck, he said he was going to kill me. And Tess says he’s crazy enough to—”

“I’m not going to let him get near you,” Decker promised her. He took a box of tissues from the counter and handed it to her. “Look, I’m going to go talk to Jules. See what he has in mind, okay?”

She nodded as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

“If this is too much for you,” he started, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d do if it was.

“It’s not,” Tracy said, but he knew she was lying, which twisted his stomach into a knot.

He cleared his throat, trying to push aside all of his doubt. “I’ll be right outside.”

Tracy nodded and forced a smile.

Tess couldn’t believe what she and Lindsey and Dr. Heissman were hearing.

Tracy and Decker were having a fight, right in the middle of the ER.

Tracy’s ankle had only been sprained, but she was adorned with an Ace bandage and crutches—this after hours of being X-rayed and schlepped from one end of the hospital to the other.

Always with a small contingent of guards.

The plan—as Tess understood it—was for Tracy and Decker to return with Tess, Jules, Sam, and Alyssa to the safe house. The plan was for Dave and Sophia to be moved there, too, as soon as Dave was able to travel.

The plan was for them all to take a deep breath, during which time Gavin Michaelson would—hopefully—be apprehended and would cease to be a threat.

Tracy, apparently, didn’t want to wait.

And then, it seemed, there was the not-so-little matter of a phone conversation she’d had with Jimmy. In which Jimmy—amazingly—had told Tracy that Decker was using her as a rebound.

And of course, since this was Decker who was fighting with Tracy, it was all being done very quietly, but still loudly enough for them all to overhear.

“It’s not a rebound,” Decker said. “But Nash was right about... He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“So don’t hurt me,” Tracy said, her voice shaking. “I’ve been honest, haven’t I, about what I expect—or don’t expect? And believe me, I don’t expect much.”

“But you should,” Decker said. “You should be with someone who can give you what you deserve—”

“And you can’t,” she said. “Or you won’t?”

Deck was grim. “I’m so fucking bad at this, I’ve got so much to deal with and you deserve better.”

“That’s such crap.” Tracy got in his face. “It’s testosterone-speak for thanks for the sex, but anything more than that requires too much emotional effort. If you don’t love me, Deck, just say so. Don’t make up this... bullshit!”

Decker was silent.

“Yeah,” Tracy said. “That’s what I thought. Tell Tom I quit. I’m going home. To pack. I’m done with California.”

And with that, she hobbled away, surrounded by Deb and Yashi and two other FBI agents Tess didn’t recognize.

And Deck didn’t do a thing. He just stood there, and watched her go.

Tess couldn’t stop herself. Jo and Lindsey tried to hold her back, but she shook them off. “Deck, was this really the right time to have a conversation about—”

“Stay out of it,” he said. “Please.” And with one last look in Tracy’s direction, he turned and went back into Dave’s room to sit and wait with Sophia.