I shake my head, watching her carefully, “Everything we've seen suggests they're solely focused on Charlotte. Your name hasn't come up in any of our intel.” I run a hand through my hair, considering the best approach, “It's probably best if you leave as planned tomorrow. Go home to your family.”
“Leave Charlie? I can’t leave her like this.”
“Yes, you can. They can use you against her. Plus, it might actually give us an advantage,” I explain. “If they think Charlotte's gone too, it could buy us time to figure out what the hell is going on.”
Charlotte's head snaps up, “Oh my God—they could go to my house.” Her face drains of color. “What about Shadow?”
“Don't worry about the cat. I can get someone to watch your house. We've got a chapter near San Simeon.”
Her shoulders sag with relief, “What do we do now?”
“We stay here. My club is working on getting information. Tomorrow, I'll personally take Minny to the airport. After that, we'll figure it out.”
“That's it? That's the plan? Just hide out and hope they don't find us?”
“It's not hiding,” I tell her. “It's strategic positioning while we collect information. There's a distinction.”
I approach the window, positioning myself to look through the blinds without being seen from outside. The street is quiet, with just a few cars parked along the curb and a kid lazily cycling in circles. Nothing appears suspicious, but that doesn't guarantee our safety. There are too many players involved, and until I determine who is targeting Charlotte, there's only one course of action. Protect her at all costs.
CHARLOTTE
Guilt is a fuckingcancer that eats you alive before you even know you're dying.
I blink awake to sunlight streaming through thin curtains, momentarily disoriented until the pressure of Minny's head on my shoulder brings reality crashing back. She's curled against me like a child, her mascara smudged beneath closed eyelids, her breathing soft and steady. For one precious moment, she looks peaceful.
Unlike me.
My thoughts are a warzone. Every time I close my eyes, I see Terrance’s face twisted with rage, hear the crash of bottles breaking, feel the phantom grip of hands around my throat. But worse than my own fear is knowing I've dragged others into this nightmare. How naive I was to think the divorce would be the end of it.
I ease out from under Minny's arm, careful not to wake her, but her eyes snap open immediately.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I force a smile that feels brittle. “Just restless.”
She pushes herself upright, running fingers through her tangled hair. “Where's your biker boy toy?”
“Standing guard outside.” I gesture toward the door, “Been there all night.”
Minny nods, but I can see the wheels turning in her mind. She pulls her knees to her chest, hugging them tight. “Are you sure leaving is a good idea? I mean, I could stay here. We can figure something out?—”
“Absolutely not,” The words come out sharper than I intended. “Minny, if something happened to you because of me...it would destroy me. Your kids need their mother. Mike needs his wife.” I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, “I've already put you at risk just by being here. Had I known…”
“Stop,” she interrupts. “There is no way you could have known any of this would have happened. I shouldn’t have drug you out here with me.”
“There’s no way either of us could have known. We still don’t know who is targeting me or why. It’s safer for you to go home.”
“But—”
“I'll be okay with Thor.” I sit on the edge of the bed, taking her hands in mine, “He knows what he's doing. His club seems to want to help me. They probably have connections we could only dream of.”
She doesn't look convinced, but she squeezes my hands anyway. “Promise me you'll check in. Every day.”
“I promise.” Another lie to add to my collection. Until this is all over, I can’t risk them going after her. “You should get ready. Your flight leaves in a couple of hours.” I stand, brushing my palms against my jeans, “I'll make coffee.”
Minny hesitates, then nods, “Fine, but this conversation isn't over.”
I leave her to get ready while I escape to the living room, my chest tight with unspoken words. Thor's massive frame fills the doorway to the front porch, his back to me, shoulders tense beneath his leather cut. The morning light catches on the patches sewn there.
