I pull her back against me, and this time she doesn't resist.
"He's going to negotiate," I say. "Try to make the threat go away. Offer to return the money."
Grace's body tenses. "What if they don't want money?"
"Then the club goes to war."
She starts to pull away again, panic rising. "People will die. Because of me. Because of a deal my father made?—"
"Stop." I cut her off, holding her tighter. "This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."
"But—"
"But nothing." I make her look at me. "Your father made a deal he regrets. Bronco was a monster. His family is coming after you because they're entitled assholes who think money buys people. That's on them. Not you."
Grace's eyes fill with tears. "I don't want people dying because of me."
"They won't be dying because of you." My voice is firm. "They'll be dying because they threatened what the Shotgun Saints protect. That's different."
She buries her face in my chest, and I feel her shoulders shake.
I hold her while she cries, stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances.
My phone buzzes.
I pull it out, expecting Phantom.
Instead, it's a message from Rogue:
Copperhead Kings Prez just called Phantom. Wants a meet. Tomorrow night.
My blood runs cold.
I show Grace the message.
All the color drains from her face. "Tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow we find out what they really want."
Her voice is barely a whisper. "What if they want me?"
I cup her face in my hands, make her look at me.
Make sure she sees the absolute certainty in my eyes.
"Then they're going to learn why I'm the Shotgun Saints' enforcer."
Grace stares at me, and I continue, my voice steel wrapped in promise.
"I've ended threats before, Grace. Made problems disappear. Protected this club with everything I have. But you? You're not just club business. You're mine. And I will burn Houston to the ground before I let them take you."
She searches my face, looking for doubt, for hesitation.
She won't find any.
Because I mean every word.
Finally, she nods. "Okay."
