Page 3 of The Devil's Dream

Nova nodded, her lower lip quivering.

Christ.

I caught it with my thumb, the rough pad dragging across her silky soft flesh. I wanted to kiss her, but it wasn't the right time.

Not yet.

“Inside, Kitten.” I steered her toward the clubhouse doors, keeping her tucked against me.

The clubhouse was chaotic when we walked in. Prospects scrambled to clear a path as Pop barked orders, directing Ghost and Banner to take Haze to the medical room we kept stocked for shit like this.

“Get me my bag!” Pop shouted, following them down the hall.

Sophia paced near the bar, one hand on her slightly rounded belly, while Rae bounced a fussy Payton.

I guided Nova to the leather couch, pulling her down onto my lap. She stiffened for a moment before melting against my chest.

“Talk to me, Kitten. What exactly did you hear?” I kept my voice low and steady despite the fury churning in my gut.

Nova's fingers twisted in my cut. “I was cleaning up after the girls left. There was this... this sound. Like fighting.” She shuddered. “When I looked through the peephole, I couldn't see anything at first. But then...” Her voice cracked.

“Shh.” I stroked her back, feeling her tremors. “Take your time.”

“When I opened the door, he was just lying there. All beaten and bloody.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “His wrists were raw, Kane. Like he'd been tied up.”

Red clouded my vision. Some fucker had restrained my brother, worked him over. They were dead men walking.

“Did you see anyone? Hear any vehicles?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing. Just Haze.”

Dragon burst through the front door, laptop tucked under his arm. “Security footage is shit. Camera on that side of the building's been out since yesterday.”

“Convenient,” I growled. This was planned.

Professional.

Nova's small hand pressed against my chest, pulling my attention back to her.

“He's gonna be okay, right?” she whispered.

I caught her chin, tilting her face up to mine. Those blue eyes were swimming with worry for the man she'd been stealing glances at for months, thinking we hadn't noticed.

“Haze is the toughest bastard I know, Kitten. And now he's got something worth fighting for.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could ask what I meant, Pop came prowling up the hallway.

We all froze, waiting to hear what he had to say.

His face was grim as he wiped his bloody hands on a rag. “He's stable. Three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, concussion. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

“Someone’s trying to send a fucking message,” Ghost growled from where he'd appeared behind Pop. His arms were crossed, muscles bunched with barely contained rage. “This had to be that fucking cop.”

Nova stiffened in my lap at Ghost's words. “Cop?”

“Club business, Kitten,” I murmured against her hair, even as my mind raced. If that federal fuck was behind this, things were about to get real messy.

“Can I see him?” Nova asked, her voice small.

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