Page 64 of York

I nodded.

I mean, what else could I do? He was right. I’d almost died. If it hadn’t been for my neighbors, I would have. But what if the next attack happened while they were at work or out with friends? What if someone hurt Denny?

No.

I couldn’t stay.

And the only other option if I wanted to stay in the area, was to move into the clubhouse.

“They won’t be able to get to you there,” he promised me. “If they tried, they’d have to get through me first.”

I looked up at him, seeing the determination on his face, the anger, and beneath all that, the concern.

That was what had tears flooding my eyes as the bikers carried bag after bag out of the bedrooms and into the hall.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

York shifted over to the couch, pulling me into his arms and letting me cry it out until there were no more tears left.

Someone must have passed him a box of tissues, because he pressed some into my hand, letting me wipe my eyes and blow my nose.

“I need to get you checked out.”

“No insurance.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It does—”

“For Denali’s sake, we need to know there is no hidden damage lingering under there. I don’t mind footing a hospital bill for her to keep having her mom. Or I know a clinic we can go to, if that is more comfortable to you.”

It would likely be less financially, so that was what I’d agreed to.

I stood when he did, but the whole world seemed to spin, and my legs gained fifty pounds in an instant.

Before I could even voice what was going on, I found myself swept up into York’s ridiculously strong arms.

“I got you.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

York

The sound of her crying out for me was going to haunt my dreams for years to come. That bone-deep fear in her voice, crying out to me for help. Not the cops. Not a neighbor. Me.

I didn’t even explain anything to the confused Denali as I ran through the house, barking out to Eddie what was happening, telling him to call Harmon over to help him with my daughter, then flying the fuck out of the clubhouse and peeling down the street on my bike.

It was a fifteen-minute drive.

I made it in eight.

But it was still too late.

The bastard was long gone.

The neighbors had scared him off and called the cops.

There was nothing I could do but be there with her as she was questioned about the events, as she tried to keep it together to give them what they needed.