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When I reach Violet’s apartment in Henderson, I spot Justin’s Harley Sportster parked at the curb. I glance at the building entrance and see the back of his cut as he barrels through the door at a run. I don’t know how we both arrived so closely, but I don’t have time to dwell on that.
I hop off my bike and dash inside. There’s a young couple standing at the elevator, and they look at me nervously as I dart toward the stairs. Taking them two at a time, I reach Violet’s floor.
Her door is wide open which is good because I’d have broken it down if it wasn’t. Fuck the damage. As soon as I step inside, my stomach clenches.
The white arch taunts me from its position in the living room. The scene reminds me of the chapel where Violet and I got married, and rage burns through me.
Oh, fuck this!
The floor shakes beneath my feet, and I whip around toward the hall. I run to her bedroom and get there in time to see Justin launch himself at Brad.
Well, we found him.
My eyes dart to Violet, who’s lying on the floor with her hand cupping her cheek. Her pants are torn and stained with blood, and her arms and face are cut up.
I see red.
“Grim!”
I take two steps and drop to her side. “Did he hit you?”
Tears gather in her eyes, and she nods. I shoot to my feet and whirl around, only to freeze. I don’t know how I missed it, but Violet’s parents are tied up on the bed in what appears to be wedding attire, and there’s a man in the corner, tied to a chair.
What the actual fuck?
Putting them all out of my mind, I glance at Violet and see her injuries again. That ignites a fire in me, and I move to grab Justin and pull him off of Brad.
Justin crashes to the floor, and I take his place, pummeling Brad. My knuckles burn, but I ignore it. Adrenaline courses through my veins, fueling me.
Suddenly, I’m grabbed from behind and yanked away from Brad. Twisting, my arm raised to strike, I halt when I see Justin with his hands up in surrender.
“You can’t kill him here,” he signs.
“I can kill him wherever I fucking want to, prospect.”
He tilts his head. “Pretty sure you’d enjoy it more in the Confessional. And…” He nods at Violet, whose wide eyes take in the scene before her. “You’ve got more important things to deal with right now.”
I take several deep breaths, letting his words register. With a last glance at Brad, who’s out cold, I move to Violet and help her to her feet. She sways, and I scoop her into my arms before she can collapse.
Desperate to get the fuck outta here, I turn to Justin again, but can’t sign, which frustrates the hell out of me.
“It’s okay,” he signs, seeing the obvious distress in my expression. “Fucker’s car is out front. I can load him in the trunk and these three,” he says, nodding at Violet’s parents and the other man. “They can ride with me back to the clubhouse. Just get your ol’ lady outta here.”
It dawns on me that he’s handling this like a Saints Purgatory brother should, and I make a mental note to bring up his patch at the next church. Dude is earning it today.
“Thanks,” I croak, and his eyes widen right before he grins.
“No problem, Grim.”
“Brother,” I correct.
“No problem, brother.”
I carry Violet out of the room, confident that Justin can handle the scene. With the club on lockdown, we can’t get any help until we get back to the clubhouse because of the communication blackout, but something tells me that’s okay.
When I step outside, the sun has begun to set, which is good. The darker it is, the less people will see. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I set Violet down, and once I’m satisfied that she’s not going to fall over, I take a step back.
