“You want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Torch barks, shoving at my chest the moment we step outside the main doors of the hospital.

“Putting space between you two before shit goes bad,” I explain. “We’ve got enough on our plate without you makin’ a scene while the law’s still sniffin’ around.”

“Didn’t ask for your help,” he argues, looking ready to take a swing at me. “My sister isn’t club business. This is my call, not yours.”

“Wrong,” I fire back, crowding his space. Adrenaline courses through my veins, the thrill of a good fight just within reach. Though I know a few good rounds would ease the frustration we both have building, it falls on me to be the one that keeps his head on straight. This isn’t the time or place to lose control. “When what you’re about to do could blow back on everyone, including this club, you’re goddamn right I’ll step in before I let you go off half-cocked. It’s my job to have your back. Even if your head’s too far up your own ass to see it that way.”

Stepping back, he looks up at the sky and takes several deep breaths before speaking again. “You heard what he said. That fucker lives in her building.” He shakes his head. “Nothin’ good about that, Brother.”

“Agreed,” I reply, not wanting that bastard anywhere near Henley.

Him living there gives him the excuse to pop in on her any time he damn well pleases. That doesn’t work for me. Not that I need to tell Torch, but I already plan to make sure Fowler gets the message that he and his cock won’t be getting any private time with Henley ever again. For now, I will keep my cards close and wait to play my hand until the time is right.

“I want her out of Milford,” he blurts, his fists clenching tightly at his sides. “When she’s released here, she comes to the clubhouse.”

“Henley know that yet?” I chuckle, knowing that woman is even more bullheaded than he is.

“She will soon enough,” he bites out confidently.

“We both know you need to take a minute before you go back in there,” I say, stopping him when he heads for the doors. “Unless you wanna end up getting hauled out by security, or in a bed of your own across the hall,” I chuckle, remembering Henley threatening to do exactly that.

“I know what I’m doing,” he argues stubbornly.

“Trust me, Torch. You walk in there like this, she kicks your ass out and doesn’t hear a goddamn thing you say. If protecting her is your top priority—”

“It is!” he roars, charging me. “Don’t question my motives, Colt. Or my priorities. The club and my family outrank everything else. Always.”

“Then take a ride,” I bark, shoving him back a good three feet. “Shower, grab some food that doesn’t come from a vending machine, and take care of the shit waiting for you at the shop. Hell, get some pussy. Don’t give a fuck what you do, but you’ll give her some time to breathe.”

“I’m not leavin’ her alone,” he fires back, his tone wearing my patience thinner by the second.

“She won’t be alone,” I assure him, reminding myself that he’s too twisted up in his own damn head to see that I’m right. “I’ll be here.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I flash him a smile, daring him to push the subject.

“You?” His expression changes, his rage fading into disbelief.

“Me,” I reply immediately. “Now go.”

“Yeah,” he growls, but doesn’t push like I expect him to. “Whatever you say, V.P..”

Waiting until Torch pulls out of the lot, I make a call letting Stone know what’s up. After explaining what went down, Stone agrees to keep him busy for a few hours so that I can do a round of Q&A with Henley myself when she wakes up. Something that I guarantee will go over a lot better if Torch isn’t hovering over her like a mother hen.

Henley is smart. I have no doubt she knew to watch what she said when it came to the law. Sure, she could be telling Fowler the truth. At this point the jury is still out. What I do know is having been seen with us so many times in the last year or so connects her to the club. That connection, while it can be a shield of protection for the women we care about, also brings unwanted enemies and heat. I also know if Henley has any idea who hurt her, she wasn’t about to give that info to him. The look on her face said it all. That shithead was the last person on Earth she wanted to see walking into her hospital room.

Eager to get back inside to Henley, I make a quick stop at the vending machine, using the last of my change on snacks before heading back up to her room. Vending machines and their bullshit tiny portions sizes are a fucking joke. You bet your ass it takes more than four cookies and a small bag of pretzels to maintain this shit without feeling the need to gnaw off a table leg.

With Henley still asleep when I make it back to her room, I attempt to get comfortable in the chair without waking her. After I tear into one of the candy bars I bought, I crack open a soda and grab the remote from the hook on her bed rail, hoping to pass the time.

All the shit swirling in my head makes it hard as fuck to concentrate on anything I find on television. Time ticks by, every fucking hour feels more like days. My eyes keep shifting from the bullshit on TV to her, finding an odd contentment in watching her get in what little rest she can around this damn place before that revolving door opens again.

Any doctor or nurse will tell you how important it is for you to get as much rest as possible. It’s vital to the healing process and all that shit. The only problem with that is it’s damn near impossible to do that in these places. Who the hell can get any kind of rest when they come in and fuck with you every single time you doze off?

I have come real close to calling Jace and telling him to take his ass down to the No Tell Motel in town and snatch one of those Do Not Disturb sings for me to hang on her door.

Not that it would help.

Snagging the bag of Reese’s Pieces from the inside pocket of my cut, I prop my feet up on the foot rail of the bed. Tearing the corner with my teeth, I pour some into my mouth. “You’re like the Mary Poppins of snack foods,” Henley mutters sleepily. Looking her way, I catch her studying me. “Do you have a vending machine in there? A mini fridge?”

Pouring in another mouthful, I wink at her. “And an open bar.”

“A man after my own heart,” she smiles. “I’ll take a shot of Cuervo and a lime. Leave the bottle.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod my head. “Soon as you’re outta here and at the clubhouse.”

“I’m not going to the clubhouse, Colt.” Her voice is calm and confident. “When they discharge me, I’m going home. I refuse to let this make me afraid to live my life normally. You can tell Donnie that too. The last thing I want to do is spend time repeating myself.”

“Quit being so goddamn stubborn and hear me out before you throw attitude at me, woman. Me wantin’ you protected has fuck all to do with Torch. It has to do with me givin’ a damn about you.” Dropping my feet to the floor, I sit up straight. “We have to assume the fucker who put you in this bed is already puttin’ a plan together to finish the job. And you can bet that fine ass of yours if they’ve been watchin’ you at the hospital, they’ve got eyes on your place. See the bigger picture here and prepare to react accordingly, babe.”

“React accordingly? Did you really just say that to me?” she asks, huffing out a laugh. “Men. You’re all the same. All of you dick-wieldin’ assholes think that us lowly little women should bow to your superior knowledge. Well, I hate to break it to you, Beefcake, not every woman jumps when she’s told like some well-trained pup.”

“Lowly little women?” I ask, arching a brow questioningly.

Her stare hardens. “I won’t be commanded to heel, Colt.”

There’s that fire. Fuck. Fury rages in those stormy eyes. Though, as much as I want to sit back and watch it burn, I need her to know that this isn’t about some need to control her every move. It’s about protecting everyone, especially her, against the bigger threat.

“I’m not about takin’ your power, Henley.” Sitting back in the chair, I nod appreciatively at her, not even trying to hide the smile that spreads across my face. “It’s theirs I want.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“Sweet promises won’t keep you alive,” I inform her, pinning her with my stare. “I will.” Dumping the last of the candy into my mouth, I toss the wrapper to the table.

“You will,” she murmurs sarcastically. “And it only involves me changing every single aspect of my life while you tell me what you think I need to hear?”

“Trust is my only requirement,” I answer honestly. “The rest is up for negotiation.”

“And if I tell you to fuck off?” she asks, clearly testing me. “What then?”

“You won’t,” I inform her, confident that I know this woman a lot fucking better than she gives me credit for. “Because the alternative is big brother becoming your permanent shadow.”

“I’ve already been run over once this week, Colt. The thought of days, possibly weeks, of Donnie in his traditional steamroller mode makes the car seem like a dodge ball.”

“Understandable.” Nodding, I can’t help agree. Especially after seeing Torch go full throttle over little sister hitting the sheets with a member of the local law. Not that I am feeling especially thrilled with that shit myself. Me keeping her close is just as much for my benefit as it is hers.

A knock at the door stops our conversation. When it swings open, Phyllis strides in, carrying a large vase of pink and white roses. “Looks like someone wanted to brighten your spirits,” she sings, arranging it on the bedside table. “Aren’t they just beautiful? I was starting to worry they wouldn’t arrive before I left for the day.”

Henley’s eyes shoot to mine, unsettled surprise filling them. “I wasn’t expecting flowers.” Eyeing them, her body tenses. “Is there a card?”

“Of course,” Phyllis beams brightly. Retrieving a small gold envelope from the center, she hands it to Henley. “Although I’m surprised Mr. Hammon hasn’t been here to see you yet. He seemed very concerned when I spoke with him about you earlier this morning.”

Looking down at the card, Henley’s expression hardens. “I’m sure he was.”

Oblivious to the change in Henley’s mood, Phyllis gives her a smile and squeezes her shoulder. “I’ll let you rest. Feel better, sweetheart.”

“Care to tell me why you’re probably the only woman I know who gets pissed when a man sends her flowers?” I ask once we’re alone again.

“Not particularly.” She tosses the card beside the flowers without opening it. “Let’s just say I’m not a fan of roses.”

“Or the name Hammon?” I ask, snatching the card. Opening it, I scan the black printed ink before tucking it into my shirt pocket for later. “You know that trust thing? It’ll need to go both ways, Henley.”

“You’re right,” she breathes, meeting my eyes. “I hate the name Hammon even more than I hate roses. So much, in fact, that when the divorce was final, I had no problem going back to Wolfe.”

“Hammon’s your ex?” I ask, though the look on her face answers the question for me. Scratching my beard, I decide to dig into this a little bit. “Last night. Think he’s involved?”

“No,” Henley snorts, almost laughing. “Daniel is an asshole. Not a—” Stopping mid-sentence, she shakes her head. “I never thought something like this would happen to me, Colt.” Her voice cracks, the emotion she has been working so hard to hide from everyone seeping through the cracks in her walls. “It’s scary to think someone wants you dead.”

“Hey.” I push to my feet, the need to comfort her overpowering me. “You let me worry about that shit. It doesn’t touch you.”

“But it did.” Stretching, she reaches for the water bottle on the table. “How do you fight against something you can’t see coming, Colt? Is it even possible to stop them from coming at me again if you don’t know who the enemy is?”

“Here.” Pushing to my feet, I snatch it before she can and twist off the cap. “Let me get that.” Tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ear, I lift the bottle to her lips. She sips slowly, a few drops escaping the corner of her mouth and dribbling down her chin. Putting the bottle back on the table, I swipe the drops away with my thumb, carefully tracing the bruise on her cheek. “I’m gonna hunt those motherfuckers down and make ‘em pay for every bruise.”

Meeting my eyes, her breath hitches. “Colt.” My name leaves her lips on a breathless whisper. It grips me by the throat.

“I thought you were gonna die right in front of me.” Tipping up her chin, I search her face. Cupping her unbandaged cheek, I lean down and press my lips to hers quickly.

Easing back, I meet her eyes, expecting her to give me a dose of that sass before telling me to go to hell. Instead, Henley sighs softly, her good hand coming up to cover mine, still on her cheek. Looking up at me with wide eyes, she licks her lips. When she breathes my name again, I fucking lose it.

Cupping the back of her head, I crush my mouth to hers. My kiss starts off gentle and slow, but the taste of the woman I’ve spent a year craving explodes on my tongue, making it impossible to control myself. I can’t focus on anything other than her. I couldn’t give a damn about the fact that we are in a hospital room, or that she is in bed, hooked up to dozens of tubes and wires. The need to really kiss this woman outweighs everything else in my mind.

Henley whimpers, her hand dropping to flatten against my chest. “Colt,” she whispers on a ragged breath.

“Shit,” I hiss under my breath, immediately noticing the change in her tone. Forcing myself to stop, I pull back. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She gives me a small, reassuring smile. “I’m just sore.”

Relieved, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Sorry, babe,” I whisper into her hair. Putting the bottle back on the table, I grab my soda and sit back down in the chair. “Been waitin’ a long time to do that.”

Pressing her fingers to her lips, Henley slowly turns her head to look at me. “So, what happens now that you have, Beefcake?” she asks, blinking slowly.

“Things change,” I tell her honestly. “For starters, once you’re outta here, I sure as shit won’t be sleepin’ another night without you next to me when I’m not gone on a run.”