Page 7 of Redemption

Paul chuckles, nodding his head in response. “Well, Sloane, it was a good thing you made Vector drive us over here.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, but I’m smart enough not to make a sound. Sloane’s mouth draws into a hard line when she realizes she can’t respond to that comment without wounding her grandfather, but that doesn’t stop her from giving him the darkest side-eye I’ve ever seen.

“Come on, we’ll head back so you can admire the bar your granddad built, we’ll find you something for your knee, and I’ll change into something that won’t terrify the children,” I say, scooping up her sandal before reaching for her.

Sloane lets out a squawk as I’m reaching for her, but I don’t give her the chance to stop me from carrying her back to the ATV.

“Look at me, carrying a woman over a threshold,” I murmur, enjoying how red she turns when she gets flustered.

“Does this mean we’re married?” she cracks, fluttering her eyelashes at me.

I let out a bark of laughter but keep my opinions on the subject of marriage to myself since her grandfather is hot on my heels.

*

Entering the clubhouse, I catch Oak’s eyes and he quickly clears out a space at the bar for me to deposit my load.

“Men, this is Sloane, can someone rustle up something to put on her knee?” I introduce her and make my request as quickly as possible, my words tripping over themselves before any of themsay something to get me in trouble. “And this is her grandfather, Paul Folly. I’ll have you know, he built this bar.”

Swann is the only one to turn and walk away from us, while the others exchange smirks and chuckles when they see where she’s injured. Thankfully, Tyrant’s elsewhere because he’d have zero issue turning her banged up knee into something X-rated in front of her granddad.

I order us a round of whiskey, ignoring the feel of my bloody shirt sticking to my skin as I wait to see to her wound; Oak seamlessly gets Paul chatting away, and in a few moments, Swann’s reappearance has Sloane giggling.

The man’s got a couple of inches and the bulk of someone who spends a lot of time working out, but looks completely natural as he holds his four-year-old daughter in position to look like she’s flying toward us, a small tube is grasped in her outstretched hand as the crowd parts to let Evon deliver the antiseptic cream.

“Here she comes to save the day!” Sloane croons, getting a grateful smile from Swann.

“I wanna be a doctor,” Evon announces when her dad swings her to a stop in front of us, easily balancing her butt on his forearm. “And a superhero.”

“I think most doctorsaresuperheroes,” Sloane immediately responds, reaching for the tube just as the child’s arm bends, putting it on a trajectory with her mouth.

“I hurt my elbow,” Evon loudly states, holding up first one and then the other before finding and showing off the fading mark. Next, she leans toward Sloane and me, dropping her voice before she continues. “I cried. Did you cry? Daddy says it’s okay to cry because it helped me feel better. Then he gave me a popsicle. Did you get a popsicle?”

“No, Idid notget a popsicle!” Sloane’s exaggerated frown in my direction lets the child know exactly who is responsible for that slight.

“No, but you got whiskey,” I remind Sloane, picking up the glass from beside her and wrapping her hand around it.

The disappointed look Evon shoots at me is followed by a grin at Sloane, before she gives her dad the biggest doe eyes I’ve ever seen. “Daddy, don’t you think her knee would feel better if webothgot popsicles?”

“We haven’t even met yet,” Sloane says, bopping her on her nose with a fingertip. “And I think you’re going to be the best Superhero Doctor, ever!”

Swann and I try to keep a straight face as we exchange a look. Next, he juts his chin out at Oak, who’s standing on the other side of Sloane from me and our brother once again shifts over, leaving space for Swann to deposit his daughter on the bar.

“A red one for me, Daddy,” Evon calls out when he leaves a second time in search of the requiredmedicine.

Sloane

After introducing myself to the little general beside me, I hold my hand out and she looks at it in question. Not sure that anyone’s taught her to introduce herself, I gently lead the way with a quick shake of her hand as I tell her my name and ask hers.

“Miss Evon, Vector has to put the cream on my knee now and I’m worried it’ll hurt,” I tell her. “Can I hold your hand, so I’ll be brave?”

She solemnly nods her head, and we keep up a steady stream of chatter as Vector continues to tend to my wound. In no time,my knee is wrapped up and her dad has dutifully returned with a popsicle for each of us. Vector no sooner introduces Swann to me, than Evon decides she wants to rejoin her friends. Their departure leaves the two of us on our own as Pops has moved across the room to talk to some others and the other men have moved further down the bar.

“Come on with me,” Vector says, lifting me down from my perch. “Can you walk alright?”

After testing my weight on it, I nod my head and he reaches back for both of our whiskey glasses before leading me to a hallway.

“Where are we going?” I ask, taking in the photos and posters on the walls until we pass a staircase, and he hands me my glass before reaching into his pocket and producing a fob that he swipes against what looks like a small imperfection in the woodwork that lines one side of the hall. With a small click, I nearly gasp with the realization that a door was seamlessly blended into the surrounding woodwork.

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