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The door opens. Again.

“Okay,” I say. “There cannot possibly be anyone left.”

Smoke walks in. Two of Bishop's men are behind him.

He’s carrying Alibi.

My mouth drops open.

“Don’t ask,” Smoke says. “Bishop made some calls.”

The second the dog sees me, he loses his fucking mind.

His entire body starts squirming. A high-pitched whine fills the room. His paws kick against Smoke's chest.

“Easy,” Smoke says.

Alibi does not give a single shit about easy.

His eyes are locked on me. His tail is moving so hard his entire ass is swinging with it.

“Baby.”

He whines louder.

My throat closes.

Smoke starts toward the bed.

Roman gets there first. “I've got him.”

Smoke hands Alibi over.

The dog immediately tries to launch himself from Roman's arms.

“Easy,” Roman murmurs.

And something about this enormous, terrifying man holding our frantic little dog like he's made of glass breaks me.

“Bring him here.”

Roman moves beside the bed. “He's going to jump on you.”

“I don't care.”

“I do.”

Roman sits carefully on the edge of the mattress. He lowers Alibi toward me. “Easy, buddy.”

Alibi stretches as far as he can.

His nose touches my cheek. Then his tongue. One tiny lick. Another. So gentle it hurts worse than anything else today.

“Hi, baby.” My voice breaks.

Alibi whines.

I cup his face. “I'm okay.”