Owen and I got out of the car and shuffled up to the house. At this point, he was dragging his backpack along the ground with one hand, while I had both of my hands wrapped around my walking stick, despite the splinters digging into my palms. Neither one of us was in the best shape of our lives, but we'd made it back alive.
A few soft murmurs of conversation sounded as we headed around the side of the house and stepped into the backyard. The others were sitting around the table outside on the patio, almost as if they were waiting for us to show up. Finn in a perfect suit and tie, Phillip wearing the same thing, the two of them looking as cool as icebox pies, despite the sweltering afternoon heat.
Bria in her usual jeans and button-up shirt, her badge and her gun both clipped to her black leather belt. Eva wearing shorts and a tank top. Roslyn in an elegant sleeveless sundress.
They were all leaning in toward the table and talking quietly, with Finn leading the conversation, judging by the wild way that he was gesturing. He was the first to spot Owen and me, and he stopped in mid-sentence to stare at us.
I grinned. "Honey, we're home."
The others scrambled to their feet. Eva raced over and gave Owen a long, tight hug, while Phillip clapped him on the back and almost sent him and Eva tumbling over.
Bria came over and hugged me, along with Roslyn, and then the two of them stepped to the side so Finn could get in on the action.
He stopped in front of me, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave me a critical once-over, his green eyes as sharp and bright as emeralds in his handsome face. "You look like hell," he finally said.
My grin widened. "You should see the other guys."
Finn sighed and opened his arms. "come on, come on, you know you want to hug me and get blood, mud, dirt, and who knows what else all over my brand-new suit."
"Why, I thought you'd never ask," I drawled.
I stepped into his arms, and Finn carefully hugged me, mindful of my injuries.
After a moment, he pulled back and sniffed in that haughty, superior way of his. "I told you to wait for me. You wouldn't be beat up nearly as badly if you'd done that." His tone was rough and grumbly, but I could still hear the worry in his voice.
"I know," I said, patting his shoulder and trying to soothe his ego and his concern. "Next time, I'll definitely wait for you."
"I'll hold you to that," he warned.
"I know you will."
Finn hugged me again, and then everyone changed places. Eva gently wrapped her arms around my neck, while Phillip stood by. Bria and Roslyn hugged Owen, while Finn went over to him and gave him a cuff on the shoulder.
"I thought that I told you to take care of Gin," Finn said. "Not bring her back half-dead."
His words and his face might have been stone-cold serious, but his tone was light with relief that I'd come back at all.
After a moment, Owen smiled. "Well, I tried, but you know Gin," he said. "She just had to kill a couple more guys before we finally left."
Finn returned his grin. "That I do."
Owen stayed outside on the patio to fill the others in on everything that had happened on the mountain, but I opened the door and stepped inside the house. I didn't have far to go, because they were all sitting in the den - cooper, Warren, Sophia, and Jo-Jo. cooper and Warren were sprawled over two matching recliners, rocking back and forth and making the springs creak-creak-creak. I gave them both respectful nods, then turned my attention to Sophia and Jo-Jo.
The sisters sat side-by-side on the brown-striped couch, their fingers intertwined, and Rosco was sprawled across their feet, taking a nap. It looked like all of their injuries had been healed. I didn't see any blood on either one of them, no bruises, no burns, nothing that would indicate all of the terrible things that had happened over the past two days.
Sophia was once again in her black jeans and boots.
A black T-shirt with a picture of a bloody, broken heart on it stretched across her chest. She looked like her usual self, right down to the black lipstick that slashed across her face. But I couldn't quite get the image of the photo that I'd seen in Grimes's house out of my mind, the one of a young Sophia wearing a white dress. I wondered what she'd been like before he'd taken her all those years ago. If she'd been a sweet Southern belle like Jo-Jo or something else entirely.
I had no way of knowing, so I focused on Jo-Jo instead.
She too wore her usual pink dress and pearls, but her face was free of makeup, her blond hair hung limply around her shoulders, and her wrinkles were more pronounced than I remembered them being. For the first time since I'd known her, Jo-Jo seemed pale and thin and tired, not at all like the bright, vibrant, cheery force of nature that she usually was. I supposed that was to be expected, since she'd almost died from Grimes's bullets, but seeing her look so haggard and defeated made my heart hurt all the same.
Jo-Jo struggled to get up out of the soft cushions, but I went over to her instead. I dropped down to my knees, leaned forward, and gave her a gentle, careful hug, not wanting to undo any of the magic that cooper had worked on her. Jo-Jo reached up and patted my back, despite the blood, dirt, and grime that covered me, and it seemed like I could feel each and every one of her bones, as delicate and fragile as a bird's under my fingertips.
I held on to her until I managed to blink back the scalding tears that had threatened to leak out of my eyes.
"How are you?" I asked, finally pulling back.
"Better, now that you're here, darling," Jo-Jo said.
I looked at Sophia. "And you?"
"Fine," she lied, although she couldn't quite hide the flash of pain in her eyes.
"Grimes?" Jo-Jo asked.
"Not dead - yet."
She glanced at Sophia, and they clasped hands again, even tighter than before. They were thinking the same thing that I was, that it wouldn't be long before Grimes came back for them again. But I had a plan for that, one that should take care of him, Hazel, and the rest of his men for good. cooper stopped rocking in his chair, leaned forward, and cleared his throat. "I hate to be rude, but you seem, um, tired, Gin."
"Tired?" Warren snorted. "What he really means is that you look like a survivor out of one of them zombie movies and almost as dead as one of those critters yourself."
cooper shot Warren a sharp look, then turned his attention back to me. "Would you like me to, you know?"
He gestured with his hands.
"Heal me?"
He winced. "If you want to call it that. I still feel like I'm fumbling around with my magic, more than anything else."