Page 43 of Friar
Nugget looked away, uncomfortable with gratitude.“Just doing what needed doing.”The same phrase Friar often used.Club brothers, through and through.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.Someone had called the police -- probably the saleswoman from the boutique, who now stood in the doorway of her shop, hand pressed to her mouth in horror.
“We need to go,” Nugget said, suddenly tense.“Now.Before the cops get here.”
I understood immediately.The club avoided law enforcement whenever possible.Questions about why someone had tried to run me down would lead to questions about the poisoning, about the club, about everything Friar was trying to protect me from.
“My car’s around the corner,” I said, trying to stand again.My legs felt more stable now, though my knees still threatened to buckle.
He glanced at his mangled motorcycle, now lying on its side in the middle of the street, bent metal and broken glass scattered around it.“Gonna have to leave my bike.Shame.I liked that one.”
He pulled out his phone, sent a quick text, then guided me away from the bench.“Prospect will retrieve it later.Right now, we need to get you back to the compound.”
My shopping bag lay forgotten on the sidewalk, the green hat and booties spilled out onto the dirty concrete.I took a step toward it, but Nugget’s hand tightened on my arm.
“Leave it,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.“I’ll buy you ten more just like it if it means getting you to safety faster.”
I let him lead me away, each step sending jolts of pain through my battered body.We moved quickly down side streets and alleyways, avoiding the main road where police cars were already gathering, lights flashing against storefronts.Nugget kept one arm around my waist, supporting me when my steps faltered, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings for any sign of the black sedan’s return.
When we reached my car, Nugget did a thorough check underneath and around the engine before declaring it safe.“I’ll drive,” he said, holding out his hand for the keys.“You’re still shaking.”
I didn’t argue, sliding into the passenger seat with relief.My body ached, the adrenaline crash leaving me exhausted and sore.Nugget slid behind the wheel, adjusted the seat to accommodate his larger frame, and started the engine.
“Friar’s gonna lose his mind,” he muttered as he pulled away from the curb, driving at a speed that bordered on reckless.“First the poisoning, now this?He’s gonna lock you in a room and throw away the key.”
The thought should have bothered me -- would have, just an hour ago when I was complaining about being overprotected.Now, all I wanted was the safety of Friar’s arms, the security of the compound’s walls between me and whoever wanted me dead.
“Why would someone try to run me down in broad daylight?”I asked, my voice small in the confined space of the car.“It’s so… public.”
Nugget’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.“Desperate people do desperate things.Whoever this is, they’re escalating.Getting bolder.”He glanced at me, concern evident in his usually guarded expression.“Which means we need to find them fast, before they try again.”
I rested my hand on my stomach.Someone had now tried twice to take this life from us.The reality of that settled over me like a physical weight as Nugget sped toward the clubhouse, toward Friar, toward whatever came next in this nightmare.
“We’ll get ‘em, darlin’,” Nugget said, his voice gentle but deadly serious.“And when we do, they’re gonna wish that car had hit them instead.”
The clubhouse came into view.Nugget screeched into the lot.Before we’d even stopped moving, the clubhouse door burst open.Friar emerged like a storm, his face a thundercloud of fear and fury.
Nugget killed the engine, but Friar reached us before he could even open his door.My door flew open, and Friar’s hands were on me, gentle despite the violence radiating from every line of his body.His eyes scanned me frantically, cataloging each visible injury with growing rage.
“What the fuck happened?”he demanded, tone dangerous as he helped me from the car.
“Someone tried to run her down,” Nugget said, coming around the car.“Black sedan, tinted windows, no plates I could see.”
“Where were Hawk and Wrangler?”Friar’s question was more of a growl, his arm sliding around my waist to support me as my knees threatened to buckle again.
Nugget’s expression darkened.“Hawk ran off after them.No sign of Wrangler when we left, but Forge called while we were driving -- said they found him zip-tied in the alley, knocked out cold.”
“They’re alive?”I asked, my voice sounding small and far away to my own ears.
“Yeah,” Nugget confirmed.“Banged up, but they’ll live.More pissed than hurt, according to Forge.”
Friar’s arm tightened around me.“Let’s get you inside,” he said, already guiding me toward the clubhouse.His body was so tense it felt like embracing a statue, every muscle coiled and ready to strike.
The clubhouse erupted into chaos as we entered.Brothers who had been lounging at tables or playing pool abandoned their activities, converging around us in a sea of concerned faces and leather cuts.Questions came from all directions, voices overlapping in a disorienting blur.
“Give her space,” Beast commanded, his authoritative voice cutting through the clamor.The brothers fell back immediately, forming a loose circle around us.Beast approached, his massive frame blocking out the overhead lights as he looked down at me with grim concern.“Med kit,” he barked to no one in particular, and a Prospect scurried off immediately.
Friar guided me to a chair, kneeling before me to examine my injuries more closely.His fingers were impossibly gentle as they turned my hands over, revealing the raw, scraped palms.“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, jaw clenching so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
