She walked over to the bar. "Baker?"
"Hm?" The older man refused to meet her gaze.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Nothing that concerns you." Baker dipped his chin, giving her a look that was universal to all members of Royalla when they wanted her to shut up and stop asking questions.
But that never stopped her. "Is Kodiak okay?"
Baker took a drink. "It's best you go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day."
Frowning, she walked away. She had no other option because the bikers weren't going to clue her in on what was happening. They took their orders from Kodiak, and he'd made sure that she stayed in the dark.
Between Kodiak's room and her room, she paused, straining to hear anything. Unable to stop herself, she turned the handle. She let herself inside and closed the door.
The room was dark. A faint orange glow came from the bedroom, casting a shadow across the floor. She inched her way to the entrance and peeked inside. Kodiak lay on the bed, boots still on, one arm draped across his chest. His breathing was steady and deep, like a man who'd finally collapsed under too many drinks.
"Kodiak?" she whispered.
She stepped closer and touched his shoulder. Nothing. He never even stirred.
"Are you okay?" She stroked his whiskered jaw.
Still nothing.
Concerned, she leaned over him, pressing her hand to his chest. Warm. Solid. Rising and falling. Concern slipped in, brushing aside her anger like cobwebs. She straightened,looking around, trying to figure out what was going on with him. Going to the bathroom, she turned on the light and gasped.
There was a pile of discarded clothes crumpled on the bathroom floor. His shirt, his jeans, and even his leather vest were carelessly tossed over the sink. She stepped closer, intending to fold the leather the way her dad had always done when he came home every night, but stopped when she saw a brown substance speckled on it. She ran her thumb over the stain and realized it wasn't brown at all but dark red. Her heart pounded— it was blood.
Her stomach dropped. She crouched, fingers brushing the fabric. Some spots smeared, still fresh.
"Kodiak?" she called again, her voice shaking now. "Are you hurt?"
No answer.
After washing her hands, she returned to the bedroom and turned on the overhead light to check his arms and ribs. There were no bandages or wounds. She dropped her gaze to his hands. There were abrasions across his knuckles.
Her mind raced. Had he hurt the man who'd killed her father? She swallowed hard, unable to think about what happened when Kodiak was out of her reach.
She sat on the floor beside the bed, back to the wall, knees pulled to her chest.
And waited for him to wake up.
Chapter 7
Kodiak woke to the dull throb of a hangover pulsing behind his eyes. Slats of light leaked through the blinds, cutting across the bed. His mouth felt like ash. His head and beard smelled of smoke.
He sat up, groaning, and froze.
Curled up on the floor beside the wall, head tipped to the side, her arms wrapped around her knees like a kid who'd fallen asleep while watching cartoons, Roma slept. She looked uncomfortable, but peaceful.
Kodiak rubbed his face with both hands and grimaced. His hands were swollen and stiff. He gazed down at the split knuckles, bruised and abrased. Fragments of last night came to him. Blood. Snake. Cold.
He moved carefully and knelt beside Roma. Slipping an arm under her knees, another around her back, he lifted her off the floor.
She murmured incoherently but stayed asleep. He gently laid her on the bed, tucking the blanket around her as if it mattered. It did, somehow. More than it should have.
Kodiak stood for a moment, watching her. Part of him was anxious to tell her that the man responsible for killing her dad was dead, and he'd done the deed. Another part of him wanted her to continue sleeping because as soon as she woke up and heard the news, he needed to set her free.
