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I turned my head to glance out the broken window and saw two of the three cop cars backing out, going in the direction I could only assume the SUV had gone in. The cop in the other car kept glancing at the house, as if debating coming inside or not.
Quinn tightened her arms around me, as if she were afraid I was going to release her.
That was never going to happen.
My cell buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, seeing Colt’s name on the screen. I lifted it to my ear. “Where are you?”
“At the bar.” His voice was strained. “I just heard there was something going on at Quinn’s house. How close to there are you? Can you check on them for me?”
“I’m here, man.”
The cop must have finally made up his mind, because I watched him start toward the front door.
“What the hell is going on?”
“We’re going to have to talk about that later. Cops are about to knock on the door. Just know that Kelli is fine, and Quinn only has a few scratches, but they should be looked at by Raven or Doc.”
The doorbell rang and Kelli carefully walked around the shattered glass to answer it.
“Tell Bash we need to go on lockdown. Get the kids and the women to the clubhouse.”
“Are you sure that’s all that’s wrong with Quinn?” He didn’t sound like he trusted my report on her. “Let me talk to her.”
“Hold on.” Pulling back enough to look down at her, I saw that she was silently crying. Her face was pale and her lips were completely bloodless. “Sweetheart, it’s Colt. Do you want to talk to him?”
She started to shake her head, but then seemed to change her mind. “Okay,” she whispered, and I handed over the phone. “C-Colt?” She closed her eyes, her body sagging against mine. “I … No, I don’t know. I’m not in any pain. I-I just feel a little wet.” Her voice shook more and more with each word that left her lips until she broke down and started sobbing. “I think I should see a doctor.”
Worried about her, I took the phone back and pressed it to my ear.
“I’m coming,” Colt was saying from the other end, his voice sounding almost as choked up as hers was. “Just stay calm, Quinnie. I’m on my way.”
Chapter 22
Matt
I felt like I was a chauffeur, driving around with my brother. I couldn’t remember the last time we had been in the same vehicle together. From the time we could ride a hog on our own, that was how we got from Point A to Point B.
However, ever since I had broken my fucking hand punching some douchebag college kid at the bar, I couldn’t ride much. Not at all. Which was driving me fucking crazy. The cast wouldn’t allow me to drive my bike so we were stuck in my truck since it was the only thing I could drive one-handed these days.
The only reason he was even with me was because we were on red alert for the fucking Italians. Santino’s man, Fontana, had a grudge with us. Nothing new about that. The Santino crime family always had their panties in a twist over us for one thing or another every day of the week. We worked for their opposition, so we were just as much enemy number one as the Vituccis were.
“Where we going?” Tanner asked from the passenger seat of my truck.
My F-150 double cab was usually in our garage, so it barely had a thousand miles on it, even though it was over three years old. Most of those miles I had put on it the last few weeks. It had been weird as fuck at first,
but I was finally starting to get used to it again. I was itching to get the cast off, though, so I could go back to my hog.
“I gotta check on something,” I muttered, turning left at the intersection in town that would take us by the courthouse.
“Gracie got court today or something?”
“Don’t know,” I told him honestly.
Right then, Hawk’s female was at the bottom my list. Everything else could go to hell for the time being for all I cared. I only had one thing on my mind, one person. I needed my fix, or I was going to feel jumpy for the rest of the day.
I slowed but kept driving, passing the parking lot for the courthouse. I went by the municipal office that was beside it, then the police station that was on the next street. I could feel my brother’s eyes burning into the side of my head, trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing. He could judge me all he wanted; I didn’t give two shits what he would think once he realized what I was doing.
What I had been doing for weeks now.
