“Miss Halvorsen is inside with my officers. They’re asking her some questions.”
My lip curls up in a snarl, and I point at the dead King. “What kind of questions need to be fucking asked, Morris? It’s obvious who did this. Same assholes who got Savannah.”
Chief raises his hands in surrender. “Standard procedure, Jenson. There are people dead, you know how it is.”
“That’s her father on the ground, Chief. Last thing she needs is a bunch of questions from pigs.”
I turn my back on him before he can reply, crossing the distance to the front door without looking at Viking—not like this. I take the steps two at a time and push on the splintered door. It’s been years since I’ve been in this house. Viking tried so fucking hard to keep everything away from his doorstep. For Sasha’s sake.
I hear the girl sobbing from the living room and the low voice of Penny—Officer Carpenter. A young male officer I don’t recognize raises a palm like he’s going to stop me, but I push past him with a glare.
“Mr. Slade, you can’t go in there,” he protests.
So he knows who I am.
Good.
I haven’t seen Viking’s daughter in years. A part of me expected a scrawny kid with round cheeks. The young woman who looks up at me from the couch, her eyes red and cheeks tearstained, is far from a child.
She’s not a kid anymore. When the hell did that happen?
Viking’s dead, his daughter could be next, and yet the first thought I have when seeing her is that she’s more beautiful than an angel.
“What are you doing, Penny?” I growl at the cop, aiming some of the anger and disgust inside me at her, a convenient target.
“We need to ask her some questions, Jenson. This is an active crime scene and?—”
“Pack some of your shit,” I tell Sasha, interrupting a red-faced Penny. “We’re leaving.”
Sasha blinks up at me, her beautiful blue eyes swimming in tears.
“Wha—what? Who are you? Why?”
Fucking hell. Even her voice is angelic.
“I’m your old man’s best friend, darling,” I answer gruffly. “He called me asking to keep you safe, and that’s what I’m gonna do. The club’s going to handle everything for you.”
She shakes her head, her arms trembling in her lap.
“The… the club? What are you talking about?” Her voice turns a little hysterical. “I’m not going anywhere with you! This is my home.”
“Jenson…” Penny warns, her arm going around Sasha’s shoulders protectively. I only throw her a glare before kneeling in front of Sasha, so we’re at eye level. This close, her scent of wildflowers and thunderstorms invades my nostrils, making something tighten in my belly.
“Darling. It’s not safe here. You saw that tonight. Your old man protected you from the Kings, gave his life for it.” Her lower lip starts shaking, a sob catching in her throat. “Don’t let it be for nothing.”
“He called you?” she asks in a small voice.
Nodding, I reach out and place my palm on her knee. She’s icy cold.
“Yeah, darling. He knew I’d take care of you. That the club would take care of you. He tried taking you away from it, and it didn’t fucking work.”
“A… a motorcycle club?” she asks hesitantly. Her innocence makes her seem younger. She’s, what, nineteen now? If she had grown up around the club, she’d be a harder woman than she is now. Civilian life made her soft. She’s the polar opposite of the club bunnies hanging around our compound, throwing themselves at patches hoping to become someone’s old lady.
I keep my voice calm, though my insides are churning. “Viking didn’t tell you anything about us? About who he was?”
Sasha shakes her head, her teeth biting down on her shivering bottom lip.
Shit.
