Page 66 of Cruz

“I’m meeting with Wizard and Dravin before that, but I’m calling everyone in. Liam’s here and he’s worried about his mom.”

“We’re okay. They shot the windows out, but we’re upstairs and we’re fine. They’ve gone already.”

“How soon can you both get here?”

“We’ll leave right away. I’m bringing the cat. She can come in her carrier, and I’ll leave her in my room.”

Tyrant’s voice is sure and certain. It doesn’t waver or tremble. There’s certainty threaded through it that amazes even me. “Yeah. See you soon.”

Sloane turns wide, frightened eyes up at me. I hate seeing her like this. My heart clenches and at the same time, fury dumps into my bloodstream. I’m not a burn down the world type, but for her, I’d love to find who did this and force them to feel a good deal of pain that I dish out with fists and feet, for a good long while.

“Let me get you some clothes. We’re gonna have to go to the clubhouse.”

She nods, silent. She edges closer to the bed and rests her back there, holding onto Prissy, stroking her head gently between her ears.

I go through Sloane’s dressers and put together an outfit. Jeans, socks, panties, a bra, a tank, and one of her funky sweaters. I take the first one from the top. I don’t look at the pattern. I set everything down on the floor beside her, then crouch in front of her and place my hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t move. Her breathing doesn’t change either, so I figure that she’s counting her breaths, purposefully slowing them to keep calm.

“I’m gonna go downstairs and make sure that everything is absolutely safe, and then I’ll come back up here for you and Prissy. We’ll go to the clubhouse in my truck.”

“The cops,” she whispers, her voice shaking and watery as her eyes fill up. She blinks rapidly, trying not to let the sheen spill over. “They’ll come, right?”

“Yes, but the guys at the club will deal with it. Tyrant or Raiden will talk to them.”

“Is this because of what Liam saw?” she asks.

“I don’t know. Some other club businesses were targeted. Whoever it is, is gunning for Satan’s Angels.”

I see the look flash across her face and instantly I remember her reaction when we first met. Her distrust of the club. How she thought we were trouble. Now I could have brought it to her doorstep.

“We’ll figure out who did this and why. Tyrant’s probably on the phone to our police contact now.”

“Does the club pay people on the police force?”

I grasp the back of my neck tightly. “It’s not like that anymore, but we have certain people that we like dealing with more than others. It’ll be okay.” I tip her face up. “It’ll be okay. Your insurance will cover this. I know that’s not what you’re worried about, but I want to minimize what heartbreak I can for you. The café is like another child to you. You love this building.”

“It’s home.” The tears spill over, trickling down her cheeks.

I cup her face with both hands and brush them away before I kiss her tenderly. I can’t let it go on and on like I want to. Not with a potential threat still out there.

I head downstairs and find nothing but a bunch of darkness, broken glass, and silence. When I head back upstairs, Sloane is dressed. She’s swept her hair back into a high ponytail and washed her face. Prissy is already in her carrier, complaining about it, but hopefully she’ll settle in. Those bellowing meows are not happy.

Sloane doesn’t say anything. She picks up the carrier in one hand and tucks her other hand in mine. She tips her chin up and squares her shoulders—a soldier getting ready to go into battle. She doesn’t have to be brave, but she’s trying. She’s had to face far worse than this before. Her heart might be hurting, and she might be aching with worry, but she’s the kind who picks herself up and forges ahead.

I know how badly she wants to get to the clubhouse, no matter how much she loves this place. Ultimately, this building is just a building and can be put back together. She wants to see Liam.

I don’t let go of her hand. Not down the stairs, not as we crunch over glass in the café, not as she unlocks and relocks the door. I don’t let her go until I shut her truck door for her and get in beside her, and then I pick her hand right up. She keeps Prissy’s carrier nestled on her knees. Unfortunately, the loud bellowing doesn’t stop.

“Sorry,” Sloane groans as we get to the clubhouse. “We might have to take her out of here, but we didn’t bring a litter box or anything.”

I should have thought of that. “I’ll see if one of the old ladies can bring one. There are a few families that have a cat, I’m sure. Tyrant will know.”

“Fuck. I don’t want to bother him. He’s already got… whatever this to deal with.”

***

I squeeze her hand as we drive up to the chain link compound surrounding the far side of the clubhouse. On the other side is the parking lot where I normally put my truck, but I don’t want Sloane getting out there. I’d rather that she’s entirely safe, and maybe that’s paranoid, but I don’t care.

We’re buzzed in and I get out and help Sloane, taking the carrier from her.