Page 90 of Ridin' True

Motor oil.

I breathed him in and held onto him with all my strength.

“Fuck, Alexia,” he sighed.

His hold was so unyielding, it almost hurt, but I didn’t care.

“She’s bleeding.”

It was Kade’s voice I heard, and I realized Jed hadn’t come alone.

I wasn’t ready for him to let me go, but Jed pulled away abruptly at Kade’s comment.

“Are you hurt? Where?” he asked, his eyes and his hands inspecting my body in unison.

“It’s a cut. It’s just a cut,” I stammered, holding up my left hand.

It was deeper than I thought, and there was blood smeared down my wrist. I hardly even felt it, the adrenaline in my system redirecting my focus away from the pain.

“We’re clear. The cops just showed.”

Still in the bathroom, Jed blocking my view, I couldn’t see him, but I recognized Benson’s voice.

“Mav, Shep and I will be outside,” he said.

“Wait,” called Jed, sticking his head into the hallway. “Ask Shep if he’s got a bandage.”

Kade, sounding amused, replied, “Bet all the cash in my wallet he does. We’ll send him in.”

I didn’t understand what was funny, and I didn’t bother to try. There was blood on my shirt, and I was sure I got some on Jed, too—but he wasn’t wearing his kutte. He was in a black tank top, his coveralls still on, the sleeves off and tied around his hips. As I took in his details, I realized his hands were still dirty.

He dropped everything to get to me.

I wasn’t surprised. That was Jed.

But it made me cry anyway.

“Hey, come ‘ere,” he muttered, hooking an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him once more. He guided me out of the bathroom toward my kitchen. There was a bullet hole in one of my dining room chairs.

Abullethole.

“Sit, darlin’.”

“Not that one,” I murmured, choosing the one next to it.

Hank came in with a box of band-aids, and he saw to my cut while Jed scrubbed his hands at my kitchen sink. When the cops knocked and invited themselves inside, Roy was right behind them. I was asked a couple of questions, but it didn’t take long before I realized the officers in uniform weren’t the ones in charge. They were there to secure a crime scene and canvas the surrounding area for witnesses. They were also there to make sure I didn’t leave before the detectives showed up.

When Detective Lloyd Kendrick and his partner Tim Reagan arrived, Roy was the first to greet them. He shook Lloyd’s hand, and the men exchanged a look that implied each of them somehow respected the authority of the other. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but if Roy trusted Lloyd, then I would, too.

It didn’t take longer than fifteen minutes to question me. I didn’t have many answers. I hadn’t seen anything or anyone. There were ten bullet holes scattered across the sliding glass door of my small balcony, and another five had missed their mark and hit the brick facing of the building. There was only one person I could think of who had motive to try adamantly to hurt me. I offered Fred Hoffman’s name, and Roy explained how Hoffman had recently lost his job to me.

We both left out the part where I’d been kidnapped.

My gut told me,club businesswasn’t often inclusive of the police.

When Roy skipped those details, I knew I was smart not to mention it.

I was one of them now. I felt certain justice, in this instance, would be first come first serve.