His eyes dip, locking onto mine, and something I don’t understand flickers in their depths. “Yeah.” He swallows hard. “She did.”
Chapter Nine
Bane
I hold Frankie and Saylor against my chest, feeling Frankie trembling like a fucking leaf in my arms. My heart’s still racing, adrenaline pumping through my veins like liquid fire. If I’d been thirty seconds later coming back inside...
Fuck.
I can’t let my mind go there. Those motherfuckers were gonna take them. My niece. My Frankie.
Wait. My Frankie? When the fuck did that happen?
I blow out a heavy breath. It doesn’t matter. What matters is they’re safe, and those pieces of shit are gonna pay.
I glance down at my knuckles, at the skin split and crusted with blood.
That asshole’s face wasn’t much better when I finished with him. I hate that Frankie saw that side of me, that I scared her. I know I should feel bad, but I don’t feel an ounce of remorse. Not a fucking drop. I wanted to kill that motherfucker.
The sound of heavy boots hauling ass toward us pulls me from the dark thoughts racing through my mind.
Here comes the cavalry. Tacoma, Journey, Bash, and Gator hurry toward us, their expressions grim and ready for war.
“Daddy!” Saylor shouts, pulling away from me and taking off running toward my brother.
Tacoma drops to one knee, scooping her up into his arms and burying his nose in her hair. His eyes close for a moment, and I can see the relief washing over him.
His little girl was attacked.
Slowly, his eyes open and narrow. “What the fuck happened?” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.
I shake my head. “Not here,” I murmur, my eyes dropping to Frankie who’s still pressed against me, her body shaking.
Tacoma follows my gaze, understanding that my girl is barely keeping it together. He nods, lifting Saylor onto his hip. “You good?”
“I need to get her outta here,” I say, tightening my arm around Frankie’s waist.
“Go,” he agrees. “I’ve got Saylor.”
I glance at Journey and Bash, nodding my head toward the men’s bathroom. “They’re in there.”
Gator’s eyes light up, a gleam that I recognize all too well. The enforcer is ready to do what he does best—hurt some motherfuckers.
“Let’s go have a chat,” he growls, cracking his knuckles.
Turning my attention back to Frankie, I guide her toward the exit. She moves like she’s sleepwalking, her eyes vacant, staring straight ahead. Fuck, I think she might be going into shock.
“Come on, baby,” I murmur, keeping my voice gentle as I lead her through the automatic doors and into the parking lot.
Steering her towards my truck, I open the passenger door and help her climb inside.
I buckle her seatbelt for her, my fingers lingering on the strap across her chest. “You’re safe now,” I whisper, pretty sure she’s not hearing a thing I’m saying.
Fuck.
Closing the door, I hurry around the hood of the truck and climb into the driver’s seat. I glance over at her, worry gnawing at my gut. She hasn’t uttered a single word since everything happened.
“Frankie?” I say her name softly, afraid of spooking her.
