Page 88 of Banshee
“I know who fucking did this, and if I talk to my brother right now, he’ll lock me up.”
There was so much in that sentence. So much he didn’t say. So much he never would.
“I’m okay.”
Bane returned with the kit and cleaned my injury. “King, I’ve got her. Go talk to the sheriff.”
Go,I mouthed.
He hesitated for a moment, then finally left my side. I looked around the room as Bane bandaged my arm. There were Silver Shadows everywhere. Men I hadn’t seen in months. I hadn’tbeen to the clubhouse since Freeway moved here—except for when Amber left. I’d had to say goodbye.
King held me as I cried at the loss of my friend. Then I left. I’d stayed in touch with the girls; I knew what had happened tonight, knew about the war, but I’d stayed away from the men. Except Johnny.
“Grace!”
I turned my head as Johnny skated across the room. “What the fuck were you doing here? You were off tonight!”
“Mary Ann asked me to cover for her.”
“You didn’t fucking call me.” I knew Johnny would be pissed when he found out I was here without him. He took my safety seriously, and I knew it was about more than just being a prospect.
“I’m fine. You being here wouldn’t have prevented this.”
“You don’t know that,” Johnny argued.
“Johnny!”
“Yeah, Prez?” He turned and looked at King.
“As soon as she’s done, get her to the clubhouse.”
“Yes, Prez.” Johnny nodded and turned back to me as Bane finished up.
“She’s done,” Bane said. “Grace, keep it clean and I’ll check on you tomorrow.” He walked away to help the next person who had been hurt.
“I’m not going to the clubhouse.”
“You heard King.”
“Johnny—”
“Grace, give me a break here.” His eyes pleaded with me to just let him do as he was asked. I knew the patch was important to him. We’d talked about what it meant to be a brother. How it was the only way he’d be able to avenge his sister.
“Fine, I’ll go for now. But I’m not staying.”
He held out his hand, so I dug my keys out of my pocket, slamming them into his palm. His hand was on my back between my shoulder blades as he led me toward the door.
“Grace, I need to get a statement.”
“Tomorrow, Dec,” King growled.
“No, I can do this now,” I said, stopping in front of the sheriff. “I was serving drinks, talking to a guy—”
“What guy?” King and Johnny both asked at the same time.
“A customer,” I ground out through gritted teeth. This was why I didn’t tell them I was working. “I was talking to a guy when the gunshots broke the windows. I stood there frozen until the guy jumped over the bar and pushed me to the ground.”
“Where is he?” the sheriff asked.
