I finished wrapping her foot and stood, turning toward the window.
Outside, the street was too quiet.
Too still.
Havoc appeared at my shoulder. “Suit’s still out there.”
“Good,” I muttered.
Havoc’s brow lifted. “Good?”
“I want to see what he does next.”
Saint exhaled. “Trigger.”
“What?” I shot back, then forced my voice down. Rylie didn’t need to hear my temper. “He thinks he owns her. He won’t leave.”
I glanced at Rylie.
She was watching me like she was afraid of what I’d do.
That pissed me off too.
Not at her.
At him.
Because he’d scared her so bad, she was afraid to do anything.
I turned back to Havoc. “Get eyes on the SUV. Plate? Make?”
“None. Blacked out windows. Two more men inside.”
My pulse spiked.
So he came prepared.
“Saint,” I said. “Call the Sheriff. Tell him we need him at the tavern. Quiet. No sirens.”
Saint nodded, already dialing. “I’m sure he’ll show up here anyway, since you ran away from your wedding.”
Rylie’s voice cracked. “My dad can’t—”
I crossed the room and crouched in front of her again, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“Your dad is the Sheriff,” I said firmly. “He doesn’t get to be kept in the dark.”
She swallowed. “If Thomas realizes I told him—”
“He already realizes,” I said, softening. “You ran.”
Her breath shuddered.
I reached out—slowly—so she could pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
My thumb brushed the back of her hand.
