Page 78 of Stick It
She goes to shake her head, but stops quickly, face scrunching. “No,” she rasps, sighing. “They had hoods pulled low over their faces, and they never spoke.”
“They didn’t ask for money?” I frown. “Did they want anything?”
“You mean other than to beat the shit out of me?” A weary sigh slides past her lips, and she seems to almost sink into the couch cushions. “No. I don’t know. They didn’t make any demands, and I don’t think they took anything.” Her eyes dart around the room. “My bag?—”
“It’s in my car,” I assure her. “Didn’t look like it had been tampered with.”
A thick silence settles in the room. My stomach twists as realization dawns. This wasn’t a mugging. It was something else, but what? Who would target Dylan? Why?
“We’ll figure it out,” Ethan assures her, giving Dylan’s knee a soft squeeze.
“And when we do, I’ll fucking end them,” Griffin vows. The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I once again wonder what the hell is going on as my gaze darts between the two of them. I notice Ethan and Jax exchanging similar looks, my own thoughts reflected in their eyes.
“For now.” Ethan puts emphasis behind his words, ever the leader. “Let’s just focus on Dylan. Jax, how is she looking?”
“Ribs are bruised. Maybe her kidney, too. She’s got a bump at the back of her head and a few scrapes.”
“Nothing we haven’t all dealt with at one time or another on the ice.” Dylan tries to wave away the extent of her injuries.
“Not typically all at one time, Little Menace,” Jax says, his voice pitched low and smooth. “It’s going to take a bit for these to heal.”
The weight of that settles over us. Dylan physically deflates. For the first time since I found her lying in that parking lot, defeat drags her down. “I’m going to miss the first game of the season, aren’t I?”
“There will be other games, Thorn.”
Her throat bobs as she stares intently at the floor, unable to meet any of our gazes.
“Can I go to bed now?” Her voice is small, smaller than I’ve heard it all night, and the fact she’s asking for fucking permission says everything about how affected she is. How vulnerable she’s feeling. I fucking hate it. I hate all of it—this whole shitstorm of a night. I want to go back out there and track down those thugs who thought they could beat on someone smaller than them, but I don’t have the first clue where to start.
Ethan’s lips flatten, but his voice is soft when he responds, “Of course you can, Thorn, but don’t lock your door, okay? I want to be able to get to you if your injuries worsen overnight.”
Dylan hesitates before giving the briefest of nods.
Griffin and Jax are there immediately as soon as she starts to push to her feet, helping her up. “I’ll stay with you,” Griffin says.
“No,” Ethan cuts in. “You’re going to stay right here. Jax will make sure she makes it to her room and gets settled.”
Griffin bristles. He goes to protest when Dylan places a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. It’s enough to stop whateverhe was going to say as he glances down at her. “I’m fine. I just want to sleep.”
“Fine,” he grits, clearly unhappy but relenting. “I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning.” Bending down, he tucks his finger beneath Dylan’s chin, lifting it until she has no choice but to meet his gaze. He doesn’t do anything, just stares into her eyes. It’s a strangely intimate moment, and I feel like I should look away, give them some privacy, but I can’t seem to. “Sweet dreams, Little Steelhawk,” he murmurs before pressing the briefest of kisses to her temple and watching closely as Jax leads her away.
“Are you two dating?” I spit out the question only when I hear Dylan’s door close upstairs.
Standing taller, Griffin slowly turns to stare at me. Any sort of human emotion he was wearing for Dylan’s sake has been shed, and in its place stands a cold, hard predator. He stares me down with the hint of a smirk curling his lips but doesn’t answer the goddamn question.
“Jealous?” he taunts.
I scoff, looking away as I frown.
“No need to answer. I already know you are. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be stealing secret hidden kisses at the back of The Stanley.”
I whirl back to him, mouth agape. “How do you— You know what, never mind. That’s none of your fucking business.”
“That’s enough!” Ethan interjects, moving to stand between us. “We have more important things to discuss.” He levels each of us with a stern look. “Like who the fuck did this to Dylan and how we’re going to find them.”
25
ETHAN
