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It takes me a few extra minutes to get there because I have to stop at the dumpster behind the twenty-four-hour mini-mart to get rid of her mechanical boyfriend. She won’t be needingthatanymore.

Back at the clubhouse, Matrix is clicking away at his keyboard when I walk in.

“Anything?” he asks without looking up.

“Nothing.”

“What were you doing at her house?”

“Looking for the sheriff.”

“Right.” He looks up, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “So check this out. Every law enforcement department in the country is becoming more and more militarized.”

“And?” I ask impatiently.

“Andsomeone just broke into the tactical vehicle yard at the sheriff’s department. The alarm went off about an hour ago, but the alert just went out on the scanners.”

“An hour ago? Why the hell did it take so long for someone to report it?”

“Someone cut the electricity to the alarms.”

“The sheriff.”

“Yeah, who the hell else would it be? The timing’s too perfect.”

“What’s he going to do with a tactical vehicle?”

“It’s armored, so if he thinks he’s going to be shot at, then it’s the best place to be.”

“True.”

“But that’s not the only reason they’re used,” Matrix adds.

“What else?”

“They’re for breaching buildings.”

A cold dread fills my heart.

“Or brick walls,” Matrix says.

“Fuck! Nina’s! Call the guys. Fuck, call the prospects! Call everyone!”

“On it!”

I’m running faster than I’ve ever run in my life. Julia was right. I should have stayed at Nina’s. I shouldn’t have gone off half-cocked on a mission for revenge. I left her and Max with the others, and they’re probably safe, but I should be there. I’ve got to get there right fucking now. If that son of a bitch so much as lays a finger on her or Max, I’ll rip his goddamn face off. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll be begging me to kill him.

Chapter 21: Julia

I’m so mad at Scar for leaving me that I can’t sleep. I get out of bed and get dressed in what’s left of my clothes. He really needs to stop ripping them. I can’t afford to replace everything he’s destroyed. If I’m not careful, he’s going to ruin me, too. I’m completely, helplessly in love with him, but all he cares about is vengeance. I want to understand him, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been hurt enough to hate the way he does.

Nina’s in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of whiskey. When she sees me, she grabs a second glass for me, fills it, then slides it across the island.

“I warned you it wouldn’t be easy with him,” she says.

“Is this your version of ‘I told you so’?” I ask.

“Nah, I don’t like to shove other people’s noses in it when I’m right. I mean, I do love it, but I try not to do it. There’s no point.” She shrugs.