“Titus can bring Lily,” Bas offered.
Just then, Rumi, Will, and Mick filed in the back door.
“Found the truck,” Will said, his voice heavy with meaning. He glanced at me. “Had a fuckin’ winch even though that thing had never been in the mud.”
“We took photos, but we didn’t touch it,” Will added.
“Take ’em,” Dragon ordered Bas.
Dad stepped in my path and kissed my forehead, even though I knew I was still covered in the stranger’s blood. “I’ll be there in a while.”
Bas led me through the house, and as we passed the men standing around, they quieted. Mom met us at the front door, my purse on her shoulder.
“Ready?” she asked, looking me over.
“Titus,” Bas called. “We need to take ’em back to the club.”
“I’ll ride with you,” Cian announced. He disappeared into the kitchen, but by the time I was seated behind Bas, he’d caught up to us.
I only vaguely realized that none of us were wearing helmets, and that was because I had to press my face against Bas’s leathers to keep my hair out of my eyes.
We didn’t even pause when we reached the gates, the prospects rolled them open just enough for the bikes to file through and then closed and locked them again.
The clubhouse was always open. Any time of day, you could find someone inside. The lights were rarely turned off, there was usually hot coffee in the pot, and more likely than not there was music playing.
I followed my mom inside to find Nova, Aunt Rose, and Grandma Brenna sitting at the bar. They got to their feet when they saw me.
“What?” Aunt Rose barked.
“Later,” Mom said, her voice sharp. “I’m taking Harper to the shower.”
“Lily,” Bas said, his voice a mixture of panic and apology.
“You can come,” she said without even looking at him. “The rest of you, give her some space.”
There were a handful of times in my life that I was overwhelmingly thankful for my mother, and that was one of them. She took me straight to the bathroom inside Dad’s room and dropped my purse on the counter. Bas stood in the doorway as she turned on the water.
“Glasses,” Mom ordered. I handed them to her.
She looked me over. “Shoes first.”
Kneeling down, she helped me pull first one, then the other. She peeled the socks off my feet and then rose back up.
“Bas, there are garbage bags under the sink, can you grab me one?” she asked as she carefully pulled at the waist of my sweater.
I tugged my arms out of the sleeves and bent down a little so she could pull it off my head without letting it touch my face. When I glanced down, my stomach lurched.
There was blood on the skin of my chest, and it had soaked into my bra.
“Look at me, Harpy,” Mom ordered gently. “Just keep looking at me.”
I looked back at her face and didn’t look away as she extended her arm and dropped the sweater into the open trash bag Bas was holding.
She peeled off my pants next. Then my bra, and finally my underwear.
Then, she stepped into the shower with me.
I shivered as she scrubbed at my scalp, even though the water was warm, bordering on too hot.
