Page 36 of Property of Tacoma
I sigh, running a hand over the top of my head. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m sure it is,” Doc mutters, probing at Bane’s ribs with his free hand. “You’ve got at least two broken ribs. Gonna need stitches in that eyebrow too.”
Bane pulls out his phone, tapping away with his thumbs. “We need to call church tonight.”
I nod in agreement.
This day has been nothing but one clusterfuck after another.
First, the mayor’s body at Kitties, then Foxy dropping Bane on his ass and putting a gun to his head. Now, Bane is beaten to shit. Can’t forget about Chief drawing a big fucking line in the sand where his sister is concerned. A line, I’m positive I’m going to cross.
Fuck.
Bane’s phone chimes, indicating he’s sent off a text to the rest of the officers.
“Eight o’clock,” he says, wincing as Doc starts preparing the suture kit. “Everyone will be here.”
“Good,” I reply, my mind already racing through all the shit we need to discuss.
The mayor’s murder, the Sinners being in our territory, and whatever the fuck that message on the wall meant.
It doesn’t take a genius to put all the pieces together.
I blow out a long breath, trying to release some of the tension that’s been building all day.
“Shit,” Bane hisses when Doc starts to sew up his brow.
Thank the gods Foxy was there today.
If she hadn’t stepped in when she did...
I scrub my hands over my face.
My brother would be dead.
No. I don’t even want to think about it.
“I’m going to check on Chief’s sister,” I announce, heading for the door. “Make sure she’s okay.”
Bane looks at me questioningly, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“She shot a man,” I clarify, though that’s not the only reason I want to see her.
Bane’s expression shifts to concern. “Yeah.”
Stepping out of the infirmary, I pause in the hallway, leaning back against the wall for a moment.
What a fucking day.
The sound of Saylor’s laughter drifts down the hall, followed by my mother’s voice telling some story or another.
Then I hear it—Foxy’s laugh.
It’s light and genuine, not the forced laugh of someone trying to fit in, but the real deal.
I push off the wall and head back toward the main room, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
This pull I feel toward her is dangerous—I know that.
