Page 44 of Friar
“I’m okay,” I said automatically, though we both knew it was a lie.“The baby’s okay too.I didn’t hit my stomach.”
“Thanks to Nugget,” Friar acknowledged, shooting a grateful look at his brother who hung back, uncomfortable with the attention.
“Just happened to be in the right place,” Nugget said with a shrug, though his usual nonchalance seemed forced.“Spotted the car idling across from the shop.Something felt off about it.Was coming in for a closer look when it made its move.”
The Prospect returned with a first-aid kit, which Friar took with a curt nod.The room had gone unusually quiet, everyone watching as Friar cleaned my scraped palms with antiseptic wipes.The sting made me hiss between my teeth, but I didn’t pull away.This pain was nothing compared to what could have happened.
“Any chance you recognized the driver?”Shield asked Nugget, already pulling out his phone, no doubt to access traffic cameras or whatever other technological wizardry he commanded.
Nugget shook his head.“Tinted windows.Couldn’t see shit.But it was deliberate, no question.Driver aimed right for her, accelerated hard.Wasn’t trying to scare her -- was trying to kill her.”
A tremor ran through me at the blunt assessment.Friar must have felt it because he looked up from bandaging my hand, his gaze meeting mine.
“This is the second attempt,” Beast said, his voice tight with controlled fury.“First the poisoning, now this.It’s escalating.”
“It’s Tasha,” Forge said, breaking his silence from where he leaned against the wall.“Has to be.Still can’t find her.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Snake countered.“But whoever it is, they’re getting bolder.More desperate.”
Friar finished bandaging my hands and moved to the scrape on my knee, cleaning it with the same careful attention.His touch was clinical but tender, each movement measured as if he was afraid I might shatter.
“You’re not leaving my sight again,” he said quietly, his voice pitched for my ears alone.It wasn’t a request or even a statement -- it was a vow, carved in stone and sealed in blood.
I should have felt suffocated by the declaration.And before this incident, I would have chafed against such a restriction, would have argued for my independence, my right to move freely.Now, I only felt relief.The thought of being alone, exposed, vulnerable to whoever wanted me dead made my skin crawl with renewed terror.
“Okay,” I whispered, and something in Friar’s expression shifted -- surprise, then gratitude, then grim resolve.
Chapter Sixteen
Friar
I sat with my back to the wall, gaze sweeping over Rusty’s Diner for the hundredth time since we’d settled into the worn vinyl booth twenty minutes ago.The morning sun slanted through grimy windows, casting long shadows across the chipped Formica tables where my brothers were strategically positioned throughout the small restaurant.My arm rested across the back of the seat behind Cheri, not just an affectionate gesture but a tactical position -- ready to pull her down if trouble came through the door.A month of waiting for the next attack had turned protective instincts into second nature.
Rusty’s was as safe as anywhere could be these days -- a greasy spoon at the edge of town where the owner owed Beast a favor and the sparse morning crowd always minded their own business.The place smelled of bacon grease and burnt coffee, oddly comforting in its normalcy.
“Your pancakes are getting cold,” Cheri said softly, nudging my side with her elbow.Her hair was shorter now -- cut to her shoulders after she’d decided long hair was a liability in a fight.One less thing to grab onto, she’d said.The memory of her standing in our bathroom, scissors in hand, determination hardening her features, still made my chest ache.
“Not hungry,” I replied, though I picked up my fork anyway.Eating was just going through the motions, one more normal thing to do while scanning exits and cataloging potential threats.
A month.A whole fucking month since someone had tried to run down my woman in broad daylight.A month of dead ends, false leads, and mounting frustration as Tasha remained in the wind.Shield had tracked the black sedan to a chop shop two counties over, but by the time we’d arrived, the car had been stripped and the shop workers suddenly developed collective amnesia about who’d brought it in.
“You should eat,” Cheri insisted, her hand settling on my thigh under the table.Her touch was warm through my jeans, anchoring me to the present.Her lips curved in a small smile, the kind that still reached her eyes despite everything.Twenty-one weeks along now, her belly formed a gentle swell under her loose shirt -- more noticeable when she stood.Our baby.My heart still seized whenever I thought those words.
I forced down a bite of pancake, syrup too sweet on my tongue.“Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” she deadpanned, but her fingers squeezed my thigh gently.
Across the diner, Beast and Hawk sat at the counter, coffee mugs in hand as they spoke in low tones with Cyclops.Forge and Wrangler flanked the door, appearing casual to anyone who didn’t know better.Snake and two Prospects sat at a table by the kitchen, positioned to access the back exit if needed.We’d traveled in three separate vehicles, taking different routes to this shithole diner in the middle of nowhere.Paranoid?Maybe.But paranoia kept us alive these days.
The waitress approached, coffeepot in hand.“Refill?”she asked, already tipping the pot toward my mug before I could answer.
I nodded, watching as she topped off Cheri’s orange juice too.Her eyes lingered a second too long on my cut, on the patches that identified me as Reckless Kings.No fear in her gaze, just weary acceptance -- she’d seen our kind before, knew the drill.Keep the coffee coming, the questions to yourself, and the memory of our faces short.
“Food okay?”she asked, more habit than genuine inquiry.
“Fine,” I replied, dismissing her with a glance.
Cheri shot me a look once the waitress was out of earshot.“You could be nicer.”
