Page 65 of Cruz

I’m first rate. That’s what he means.

My stomach erupts in funny little butterflies. I ignore the twinges and the heat gathering lower.

I dust a few more kisses on his knuckles, then pepper his face and eventually claim his lips. I have to cut myself off, or I’ll never stop. I extend my hand to lead him to the bathroom for that promised shower. “Second best snacks it is, then.”

Chapter 22

Cruz

I’m normally not a heavy sleeper, but the shattering glass downstairs could wake the dead.

I move on instinct, half throwing, half rolling myself across the bed. The second Sloane is in my arms, I take her down to the floor.

“Prissy!” She pops up, snags the still sleeping cat from the foot of the bed, and grasps her in her arms as I force her back down to the ground. If that’s not quintessential Sloane—looking after everyone before herself, I don’t know what is.

Priscilla slept through all of it. She’s awake now, but she’s content to stay in the cocoon of Sloane’s arms. I keep a hand on Sloane’s back, forcing her down to the floor as low as possible. She huddles in a ball, body curled around the cat, studying me with wide, terrified eyes.

“What’s happening? Did someone throw a brick through the window?” Hurt moves over her face. “Why would anyone do that?” Liam’s not her only child. The business and the building are her babies too.

I didn’t hear the gunshots, but the amount of glass shattering down there had to have been caused by someone shooting out the windows. The revving engine and squealing tires would seem to be proof of that. Whoever did this isn’t quiet about their getaway, but they likely used suppressors.

“Liam!” Sloane swats my arm with her free hand, trying to shove me aside so she can get to her phone. It’s on the nightstand on this side of the bed. I snatch it without lifting my head. I thrust it into her hand.

“Call him. I need to call Tyrant immediately.”

“No!” She tugs at my arm even though she was just fighting me. “Cruz! You’re not going down there!”

She knows me too well already. “I have to make sure that they’re gone. Someone could be down there still or even worse, sneaking up the stairs. If that’s true, the lock isn’t gonna hold them for long.”

Her face drains of whatever color there was left. “Holy fuck.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone, and I’ll check the cameras before I go down there, but we should be prepared.”

“If they didn’t throw bricks… if they used something else, they could be armed. Don’t go down there, Cruz. You don’t have a weapon.”

“I have your baseball bat and years of training.”

“Who would do this?” Twin streaks of tears run down her ashen cheeks. She clearly doesn’t feel them, but they hollow my chest out so badly that I want to open her bedroom window, leap out, and run after that car in my bare feet.

I don’t want to say it. But if this is connected to what Liam saw then she needs to know. “Gangsters.” She blinks, but her eyes are still haunted. Priscilla actually stars purring in the crook of Sloane’s arm. “I’m hoping it’s not and it’s just some assholes being idiots. But we can’t rule it out.”

I crawl along the floor to my jeans and grab my phone out of them. I can’t help but think that this is what happens when I let my guard down, but I don’t want to go down that road. Wizard was sure that those assholes didn’t know anything about Liam, and maybe they didn’t. This could be unrelated. It doesn’t mean that I can’t trust Wizard in the future, or the club. They made the call. I was the one who didn’t keep up my watch as faithfully as possible.

The cameras are still intact downstairs and still giving feeds from the exterior. They weren’t taken out, which speaks to the fact that this wasn’t entirely premeditated or well thought out.

I’m still studying the feeds just to be sure, when my phone rings, Tyrant’s number flashing across the top of the screen. I crawl back over to Sloane, set my hand on her trembling shoulder, and answer.

“Have you seen the feeds?” I ask, sure that it’s why Tyrant’s calling. I half expected it to be Wizard, but this is no joke. It’s not a surprise that our Prez made the call.

“We have. We’ve been seeing them for fifteen minutes all over Hart.”

“What?” That hits like a thunderclap directly over my head.

“Whoever that was, they’ve hit most of our properties around Hart. Shot out windows, set fires where they couldn’t smash glass, slashed tires.”

This sounds personal. Club-related and nothing to do with Liam. Fuck.

“Are you calling Church?”