Page 9 of My Knight

Poppy raised an eyebrow. “And Saylor’s okay with that? I don’t think I ever saw you speak a word to her before.”

“I didn’t ask,” I admitted. “But I’m sure she’d rather be safe than not have me around.”

Yarder rubbed his jaw, thinking it over. “If she’s anything like the other ol’ ladies, I’m sure she’s got a twisted opinion about you keeping her safe.”

Poppy immediately smacked Yarder’s arm. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

Yarder laughed and pulled her into his side with a grin. “It means sometimes you don’t see the danger staring you straight in the eye, and we need to be the ones who keep you safe even when you think you don’t need it.”

Poppy wrinkled her nose. “That’s not true.”

I scoffed under my breath, and Yarder chuckled again. They were a mess, but they worked. The way he protected her, teased her, held her close—it was the kind of thing I never thought much about. Not until now. Not until I found myself sitting in a hospital room like a damn watchdog, guarding someone who wasn’t mine.

But maybe that’s what made it worse.

Because I didn’t know what this was—why I felt the need to stay, to protect, to make sure she was okay—but I wasn’t walking away from it either.

Not yet.

“So what now?” Poppy asked.

That seemed to be the question we were always asking.

What now?

Shit had happened. The kind that left people bleeding and bruised. The kind that made your gut twist and your knuckles itch for a fight. And now, once again, we were standing in the aftermath trying to figure out how to stop it from getting worse.

The problem? We hadn’t been able to stop it. Not really. Boone and Gibbs were always a few goddamn steps ahead of us. Always slithering through the cracks before we could crush them.

I shifted against the wall outside Saylor’s hospital room with my arms crossed, jaw tight. “We need to find someone who doesn’t like Boone and Gibbs. Someone with dirt on them. Someone who wants to take them down as much as we do.”

“We’ve looked, man,” Yarder said with a shake of his head. “I can find people who don’t like Boone and Gibbs. Hell, I could fill a damn room. But none of them are willing to go up against them. Not out loud.”

He wasn’t wrong. Everyone had something to lose, and Boone and Gibbs knew how to collect debts and twist arms. Fear was their currency, and business was always booming.

“Maybe once we get the DNA results back from the guy who attacked Saylor, it can point us to someone who’d flip on them,” Poppy offered.

There was a chance—a small one. But the problem was that the DNA test was going to take weeks, and we needed answers yesterday.

“We need to tell Boone and Gibbs we don’t give a fuck about them and to leave us the hell alone,” I said.

“If only that would happen,” Yarder muttered and rubbed the back of his neck. He tipped his head toward Saylor’s closeddoor. “Just stay with her while she’s here. When she gets discharged, bring her back to the clubhouse. Mac, Mark, and Drew are gonna be staying there too.”

“Shouldn’t you just send them home?” Poppy asked. Her voice was hesitant, but she was thinking the obvious thing—get the civilians out of the blast zone.

I shook my head. “So they can go back to California and have Boone and Gibbs go after them there?” I asked. “They’d be sitting ducks. Seems like just being around the club makes them a target. We can’t just send the crew away to be slaughtered.”

Poppy winced. “Jesus. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

Yarder wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his side. “It’s okay, babe. As much as I’d love to just put them on a plane and forget this happened, we can’t. They’re wrapped up in it now. Whether they like it or not.”

He was right. Every one of them had unknowingly stepped into a war zone when they showed up to film our lives. They wanted drama for their show, and now they had it—just not the kind anyone wanted to air.

“I’ll keep you up to date on what’s going on here until Saylor gets released,” I said. “I’m sure the police will be by today to talk to her again.”

I didn’t want them near her. Every instinct in me said to keep them out, to keep everyone out. But I knew better. Getting in the way of the cops would only bring more heat. More attention. We couldn’t afford that right now.

Yarder nodded. “I’ll have a car brought up for you. We got your bike back to the clubhouse already.”

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