Page 73 of Taking What's Ours

Suddenly, Rosie moves to the door, cocking her head.

Evelyn checks her phone. “They’re back.”

We all head out the door. The women stroll through, but all I want to do is push past them and run. How can they be so calm?

When we spill into the great room, the men come through the front door.

I spot Baja and dash across the room to him, checking his clothing for blood. He sweeps me in his arms, and I cling to him.

His mouth dips close to my ear. “I’m okay, baby. Everyone is okay.”

“I was so worried,” I mutter against his chest.

He rocks me and pats my back. “It’s all good.”

“Did you catch them?” I can’t help asking.

“Babe, it’s over. That’s all you need to know. I can’t talk about it, okay?”

It’s not okay. None of this is okay, but I am thankful he’s come back to me in one piece.

He pulls away and stares into my eyes. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“But your bike…? I thought they were all damaged.”

“Mine just has a flat. I’ll get it fixed tomorrow. In the meantime, one of the prospects is going to run us home in Rock’s truck.”

“What about everyone else?” I ask.

“Some of them are staying here. Some the prospect will come back for.”

“Oh.” I turn and find Isabella waiting to give me a hug.

“I told you everything would be fine,” she whispers in my ear. “Remember what we told you. Don’t let him put up walls.” Then she pulls back and smiles at me.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

Baja makes a clicking sound. “Come on, Rosie.” Then he leads me out the door, Rosie on our heels, and we load up in Rock’s pickup.

I get my first look at the outside of the clubhouse and see the damage that was done. The bikes have all been moved to the back, probably by the prospects while we were in Rock’s office. But what draws my attention are the pretty logs now splintered and pockmarked with holes in horizontal lines from all the rapid gunfire.

Just moments before the attack happened, we were all standing out here, having just dismounted from the bikes. If those men had attacked a minute or two earlier, everyone could be dead.

When we return home, just like the girls warned me, Baja is distant.

When I try to kiss him, he mutters an excuse that he needs a shower.

I offer to join him, but even that doesn’t tempt him, when I know it would have just yesterday. I try to push, like the girls told me, but he’s not having any of it. When I try to kiss him again, he brushes my hands aside.

“Quit,” he snaps.

I stare at him in shock, and then his face melts.

“I’m sorry, Elaina. I didn’t mean it like that. My nerves are shot tonight.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

“I’m just tired. Please don’t read any more into it.”

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