Manning grabbed Hush’s hand when he tried to slip away after they’d entered Jacobs’s room in the hospital.
“Kyle.” Manning hardly ever called him Kyle, but the pale bruised man on the bed looked more like a Kyle than a Detective Jacobs. Once those pale blue eyes opened, Manning smiled—there he was.
“Quinn.”
Hush frowned at them, but it only made Manning smile wider. It would take time for him to get used to living among humans, but Manning didn’t doubt he’d do just fine.
“It’s good to see you alive, though you’ve looked prettier.” Jacobs raised a bandaged hand and Manning winced—he’d forgotten about the finger. “How are you?”
“I’ve had better days, but I’ll live. Tell me you got the bastard.”
“We got the bastard. Ferguson is getting the paperwork ready as we speak. He’ll go away for
