Chapter 27 Ghosts Of What Could Be

• Eve's fingers traced the message on Mason's phone screen, its blue glow painting shadows across her face in the dimly lit penthouse bedroom. The text about Ethan's deadline with Ramirez burned into her mind, but her attention kept drifting to the man lying unconscious before her.
• Mason's chest rose and fell steadily, his features softened by sleep and medication. The bullet had torn through his shoulder, missing anything vital. Eve had patched him up with practiced efficiency. That's what obscene amounts of money bought in Chicago – making beds out of people.
• "Helluva mess you stepped in," Eve muttered, adjusting the IV drip. Her fingers lingered on Mason's arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. Something stirred in her chest – that damn feeling she'd been trying to squash more lately.