Page 109 of That Girl is Trouble

Shaking his head, he says, “Not really. Dark hoodies, white, smaller than me. Not much to go on.”

“Decker’s checking surveillance and traffic cams,” I say as I lean back in my seat. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get a plate. And then someone dies.” An attack on our VP is an attack on all of us, and there’s a pretty short list of assholes who’d have the fucking balls to pull a stunt like this.

We fall quiet, and Graves vacillates between blinking away his exhaustion and watching the door, as if waiting for someone to walk through it.

“I sent Triss for coffee,” I tell him, and his shoulders seem to relax a little. “The woman’s been driving everyone nuts. Barking orders at the nurses, sending half the club out on errands. She nearly levelled me when I suggested she sleep at home tonight.”

He snorts. “Sounds like her. She gets mean when she’s scared.” The small smile on his face dies. “Wasn’t sure if she’d… stick around for this. I can’t figure it out, you know? Why she stays. Should have run for the hills the day she met me.”

“Triss doesn’t seem like the type to bail when shit gets tough. She’s a good woman.”

“Yeah. Too good,” he says, cringing as he tries to push himself up again. He waves me off when I move to stop him, giving me a hard, serious stare. “Listen, I’m gonna get a little sentimental for a minute, but I need you to listen, all right?”

I lift an eyebrow. “Sure, man. What’s on your mind?”

“I need your word. That you’ll take care of them if something happens to me. Especially Kat. She’s tough, but she isn’t. You know what I mean by that? The kid is a fuckin’ lightning rod for trouble. And when she’s working through something, she gets reckless. She’s like us in that way. Triss accepts this life, but Kat was built for it. She needs someone to keep her straight.”

“You’re still here, man. Alive and breathing. I’m not making promises to you I don’t need to be making.”

“Not good enough,” he growls as he grips the side rails and pushes himself up to sitting, his face twisting in pain. “Don’t abandon them. They’re my family. Didn’t think I’d get that after your old man took my mom and sister away from here.” He clears his throat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for it, that he left to keep them safe. But these girls, they are my fuckin’ family. Not sure how it happened, but it means you take care of them if shit goes south and I end up in the ground. You protect them. Fuckin’ swear it.” He reaches out a hand, waiting for my oath.

It’s not a hard promise to make, but it might be hard to keep, depending on his definition of safe. Have I been keeping Kat safe? Is that what I was doing that last time I had her alone? Eight months ago, I cut her out of my life. At the time, I thought that’s what I was doing—keeping her safe. From the life, from the dangers that come with it.

Really, I was trying to keep her safe from me. From what goes through my head every time I look at her. Fucking seventeen. I don’t fuck teenagers, but three nights ago, I was about to. I would have done what I do best—take exactly what I want, when I want, without thought of who might punch me in the face because I got into bed with the wrong woman.

Except she’s not the wrong woman.

Maybe I’m just the wrong man.

Graves watches me, his eyes hardening as each moment passes.

“I’ll take care of them,” I swear to him as I grip his hand.

He squeezes, giving me a nod, and lies back, the tension draining from his body.

After a few minutes, he fades back into that stillness that has me scanning the machines monitoring his heart again. I shoot a quick text to Triss, updating her on his status, then head to the waiting room to make sure Bane is still awake. It’s close to midnight, so visiting hours have been over for a while, but no one has been brave enough to tell us to leave. Wouldn’t matter anyway. I’m not about to leave my VP here without backup. Just in case someone decides to show up and finish the job.

Bane sits in the corner, staring up at the TV playing infomercials on the wall. He toys with his knife, spinning it between his fingers absentmindedly, unaware of the disapproving looks the nurse behind the desk is throwing at him.

“All good?”

“I’m learning some interesting things about cookware,” he says as he jerks his head to the screen. He lets out a big yawn and shifts lower in the chair, knife still moving, his fingers roaming lightly over the blade.

“Don’t fall asleep,” I warn. “Anyone shady gets close to his room, you take them down.”

“I got you, brother. No one’s gettin’ in there.”

Nodding, I glance back at the open door leading to his room one more time and then head to the parking lot and drive home.

The clubhouse is quiet tonight. Yellow police tape still marks the area near where Graves was attacked. I scoff at it. I’m getting real fucking tired of this place being a crime scene.

When I get up the stairs, my apartment door is ajar. My neck prickles in warning as I slide my hand over the grip of the gun at the small of my back. I click off the safety and slowly push open my door, barrel pointed inside, searching for an intruder.

What I get is Kat. She’s wearing yellow rubber gloves, and kneeling in front of my couch, a bucket of water beside her as she scrubs the fabric. The suds on the leather are light pink in some places, red in others. Remnants of the bloodbath from three days ago. Music plays low on my living room speakers, but it’s near drowned out by the sound of the scrubbing.

She looks up when I close the door. “He dead?” she asks, face impassive. But tension builds in her body, and her scrubbing gets faster.

“No,” I tell her as I drop my gun onto the small table beside the door. “Woke up, actually. Your sister’s on her way back now. I think he’ll be okay.”

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