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“The asshole who I got arrested for trying to fight tonight,” I scoffed. “Not that it was much of a fight; he was too much of a pussy to do much of anything.”
Elden’s eyes flickered upward to the ceiling before returning to me.“Why didn’t you call me?”
I frowned. “Well, calling you when you’re across the country and he was only a few steps away wouldn’t really work,” I looked down at my nails. “Plus, I was acting on instinct.”
“Not tonight,” he huffed out. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me the second this happened to Sariah?”
He was asking me like this was a rhetorical question, as though calling him was the obvious thing to do. Of course, I had entertained the idea of calling Swiss and letting him know what happened and let the protective bikers do what protective bikers did to men who raped women.
But Sariah had been violently against us doing anything behind her back. Even though I figured I’d be doing her and the world a favor by letting the bikers do what they did, I would not betray her that way.
“Why would I call you?” I asked him.
“Because you’re mine,” he informed me.
I folded my arms in front of me. “I am not yours.”
He sighed. “You fuckin’ are.”
“You told me that I was nothing to you,” I countered.
“Jesus Christ, Violet, we’re not talking about this now.”
“Yes, we are,” I snapped.
“No. We’re gonna talk about that and you trying to go up against a sexual predator without callin’ me later. For now, you’re gonna tell me where he lives.”
My body jolted.
He was not kidding. I looked around the room again. The only one really listening to our conversation at this point was the drunk girl on the bench, and one quick glance at her told me she’d fallen asleep, which was a testament to how drunk she was because this was an entertaining show.
I leaned forward, speaking quietly. “Tell me you are not planning a murder in apolice station.”
Elden’s body went stiff.
I’d gone up on my tiptoes in order to make sure no one but Elden heard what I said, placing my hands on his chest to steady myself. My lips had grazed his ear as I spoke.
Now, the current circumstances did not warrant any kind of sexual chemistry. And the closeness, the touch wasn’t even sexual. It was just us. Our bodies reacting after so long apart.
I lingered there because I needed to linger in the safety he offered. Everything had been spinning out of control. I’d been scared, genuinely terrified of what was happening to my friend. Terrified about what we still had to live with.
But Elden’s presence meant that everything was going to be okay.
We stayed suspended in the moment for a beat until Elden’s hand gripped my hip.
“We’re going to get you home and talk there,” he murmured.
I nodded once, not allowing myself to speak.
His hand went to the small of my back after he opened the door for me, and I got a little thrill from the intimacy of it.
I was surprised to see Colby leaning against a bike in the parking lot. It couldn’t have been his bike since they got here so quickly. Then I recognized Bill, who had helped us move that one time. He lifted his chin, making sure to keep his eyes on my face.
I gave him a little wave.
My hand throbbed as I did. I remembered the punching and that my fist was now red and swollen. It had stopped bleeding, at least.
Colby did not respectfully keep his gaze on my face; it trekked all the way up and down my body, a wide grin lifting his lips. “You need to be in a robe, not a cut, Hef,” he said to Elden.
