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I was close to losing two men because of this mother fucker.
I’d be damned if I lost anyone else.
“Nino had an extra door in his garage,” Milo said. “He’s bringing it over until we can get you a new one.”
“You can’t stay here,” Luca said, stating out loud what I knew from the moment I knew Claire and Judah were okay. “He won’t stop coming for them.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, jaw so tight that my fucking teeth ached.
“You need to go to one of the safe houses,” he declared, making me suck in a deep breath, releasing it with a sigh I felt down to my bones.
I wanted to hit the road.
I wanted to track down Warren, break the hands that he dared to put on Claire, then end him.
As much as I was entitled to my justice, I also knew that my top priority was to keep Claire and Judah safe. Even if that meant I had to step back from the mission to take down the Graves organization.
After all, it didn’t matter if I was the one to put a bullet in his head, so long as someone did, so long as the threat was neutralized. Forever.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Which one?”
“I want you out of town,” Luca told me. “As it is, I’m gonna take your ma and your sisters and lock ‘em up in the hotel safe house. It will cut down on how many guards we need for them, with the private elevator.”
“Okay,” I agreed, but didn’t know how the fuck he thought he could get Smush to just… abandon all her clients out of the blue. “I’ll sleep better knowing I don’t have to worry about them.”
“I’ll see what Lucky wants to do. If he thinks the kids would like going to the hotel too, or if I need to stash them somewhere else.”
“I’m not going to a fucking safe house,” Milo said, making Luca’s lips twitch a bit.
“I wasn’t going to ask you to. I need as many men as possible still. I don’t know how Warren is going to react to this now, knowing Judah is within reach. How soon he will come at us again.”
“That depends on if Denny can talk sense into him or not,” Claire said from behind me, making everyone turn to look at her. “Sorry,” she said, wincing. “Judah needs something to eat.”
“Of course,” Luca said, waving toward the kitchen.
I watched the men’s gazes move to Claire’s face, taking in the damage Warren had done.
My gaze, though, slipped somewhere else, seeing something I’d missed before, when I’d been focused on her face as well.
A rip.
In her pants.
Like someone had grabbed and yanked them…
Fuck.
I waved toward the men, silently asking them to step away as Claire went to the stove, grabbing some of the cold dinner.
I moved up behind her, feeling her tense, then relax when she realized it was me.
Leaning down, voice low so no one else could hear, I murmured, “Angel, your pants are ripped.”
It was a statement, but a question as well.
She tensed again, then relaxed with a deep sigh, turning so that her face brushed my chest, her gaze downcast.
“He… tried,” she said.
