"Especially if they're cops."
Havoc's expression doesn't change, but I see the acknowledgment in his eyes. "She's got five minutes before I call Pope."
"Fair."
I head upstairs to the security office, taking the stairs two at a time. My mind's racing through what I remember aboutstitching: how to sterilize, how to tie off, how to make sure it won't get infected.
Ghost is in the office, feet up on the desk, watching the security monitors with the attention of someone who's bored out of his fucking mind.
"Need the first aid kit," I tell him.
He doesn't move. "What'd you do?"
"Nothing. Got a situation downstairs."
"What kind of situation?"
"The kind where I need the first aid kit and don't have time for questions."
Ghost swings his feet down and looks at me with those pale gray eyes that earned him his road name. "Pope know about this situation?"
"Not yet."
"Should he?"
That's the question, isn't it? Club rules say I should call Pope before I get involved in anything that might blow back on us. But something about Savannah, the way she looked at me, the way she said please like it was the last word she had left, makes me want to handle this myself first.
"If it becomes something, yeah. Right now, it's just a woman who needs help."
Ghost considers this. Then he stands and opens the safe where we keep the serious medical supplies, the stuff we use when brothers get hurt and can't go to the hospital. Suture kit, antibiotics, local anesthetic, the works.
He hands it to me. "You've got thirty minutes before I tell Pope you're doing something stupid."
"Appreciated."
"Knuckles." I turn back at the door. "Whatever this is, be smart about it."
"Always am."
"Bullshit. You're the guy who jumped into a four-on-one fight in a parking lot last month because one of them looked at you wrong."
"He called me a pussy."
"My point exactly. Be smart."
I take the supplies and head back downstairs. Havoc catches my eye as I cross the floor and gives me a subtle nod. Still clear.
Savannah's exactly where I left her, still gripping that purse, still watching the door like it might explode any second. When she sees me coming, some of the tension leaves her shoulders.
Interesting. She trusts me, at least a little. Enough to relax when I'm around.
I don't deserve that trust. She doesn't know me. Doesn't know what I've done, what I'm capable of. But I'll take it anyway because the alternative is her sitting here alone and scared, and that's not fucking happening.
I kneel down again and open the kit. "This is gonna hurt worse than the antiseptic. I've got local anesthetic, but it's gonna sting when it goes in."
"How bad?"
"Bad. But then you won't feel me stitching."
