Thad's fists exploded with each pummeling punch to the Tigres member's face. Each powered by rage over the gang terrorizing Lena. The pain only urged him on.

"Bowers, stand down," shouted Lieutenant Gomez.

He could no longer see Gomez and the two other cops in his peripheral vision. The only thing he could see was the bloody bag of shit in front of him, no longer moving. No longer popping off. No longer looking at Lena. No longer a threat.

Arms hooked around him, dragging and lifting him away. He growled in frustration, fighting against the hold.

"Enough, brother," said Wayne quietly. "You don't want to kill him. Not now. Not here."

"The police have the other three in custody." Chuck grunted as Thad's swing made contact with his chest. "Lena needs you."

He stilled, heaving hard, and swung his gaze around the street looking for her. "Where is she?"

"Glen's with her behind the bikes." Chuck turned Thad. "Go to her."

He stalked away, licking the blood trickling into his mouth, poisoning his tongue. Gomez moved in on the injured man, shouting for Thad to stop. He kept walking. Lena was here somewhere and needed him.

The moment he spotted her, rage rekindled inside of him, and he dodged the motorcycles and made his way to her. Kneeling down in front of her, he tilted her face and grimaced. Her swollen eyes, held tightly shut, bloomed red. Snot flowed from her nose, and she sat out in the cold soaking wet.

"She got caught in the mace she was spraying. We need to get her to Wayne's house and pour some milk over her face, then get her in the shower to wash off the oil from the spray." Glen gripped Thad's shoulder. "I can take her. Officer Johnson is heading toward you now. They're going to want to talk with you."

"Keep the cops away from me," said Thad. "I'm taking her. They know where to fucking find me."

Thad stood, picked up Lena, and walked. Her body made for his, she molded to his chest and tucked her head into his neck. Nobody would ever touch what was his. If he'd lost her, he'd kill every person wearing Tigres colors and never rest until he wiped the world of every fucking member.

Lena couldn't leave him. She was staying in his life. He didn't give a shit in what capacity she stayed with him, but he wasn't going to let her go.

"Pepper spray," he mumbled, unable to believe she had the spray on her and yet not surprised. She'd proven herself over and over again that she could take care of herself. "Babe...?"

"You're okay?" she whispered into his ear.

"I'm good."

"I was so scared."

Her hands touched his face as if reassuring herself he was holding her. The oil from the spray on her body burned his eyes.

Her body convulsed in a sob, and she coughed, until his gut hurt for her. "I was afraid I'd never—"

"Sh." He marched up Wayne's driveway. "I know."

At the door, he used his boot and kicked the wooden barrier. "Clara! It's Thad. Let me in."

The deadbolt clicked, and the door opened a crack before swinging open. Thad rushed in, explaining the situation as he went through the house and into the guest bathroom on the main floor.

Clara arrived a minute later carrying a milk jug. Poised over Lena sitting on the toilet, Thad took the milk. "Hold your breath."

He dribbled the milk over her eyes, her nose, her mouth. "Clara, I need dish soap and some clothes for Lena to change into."

"I'll be right back," said Clara.

"Keep your eyes closed, babe." Thad unzipped her jacket. "I'm going to take your clothes off. If the skin on your face starts burning again, tell me. I'll pour more milk over you."

"We're making a mess in Wayne and Clara's house," she mumbled with her eyes closed, but her breathing had slowed to gasping.

Fuck. Even her lips were swelling. He pulled her coat off, her shirt, and undid her bra by the time Clara came back. Pulling her to her feet, he unfastened her jeans and pulled them down with her panties.

Lena cried out, grabbing him. He looked at her legs and angered all over again. She had a burn on the inside of her thigh, and he'd ripped the skin off when he'd removed her clothes.

"Babe..." He swallowed hard, then looked at Clara, lost at what he should do to care for Lena's injuries. "She needs a doctor or a paramedic."

Clara uncovered her mouth and whispered, "I'll call Wayne and let him know."

Being careful not to jostle her wound, he lifted her one foot and removed the shoe, then worked the jeans over her other foot, noticing the missing shoe and the torn sock. Lena's hand landed on his shoulder, and she balanced herself. Taking his time, he worked the material off her foot and found road rash across the top of four toes. Only her little pinky was spared.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

"It's okay. My foot doesn't hurt much." She found his hair and stroked his head.

Her body trembled and still she tried to comfort him.

"We need to get the oil washed off you." He stood, grabbed the jug of dish soap, and started the water in the shower.

Thank fuck, she had the pepper spray on her today. It was probably what saved her from getting hurt even worse. Tigres members never treated a woman differently than a man when it came to retaliation or even their own members. Women were used, abused, and thrown away. He stuck his hand under the water and adjusted the temperature. He'd planned to leave his pistol in the holster because things could've gotten ugly fast and he didn't want Lena caught in the crossfire in case the others had been armed with more than knives.

He'd hoped to take them out with his bare hands and have their focus on him. But, the other three went for Lena.

He should've shot them all.

Testing the water again and finding the temperature warm, but not too hot, he turned around and guided Lena into the tub and the stream of water from the showerhead. She tilted her head and let the spray flow over her face. A low moan came out of her and Thad kept holding her as her body swayed and her knees weakened as relief came over her. Hating to take her away from what brought her comfort, he stepped into the tub and held her against his hip, while he looked at the bottle of soap, not wanting to pour it on her but not knowing what else to do.

"Here." Clara handed him a washcloth. "Wayne said it'll take the oil off better if you put the soap on the cloth and gently rub."

He nodded his thanks. He worked from head to toe, washing off Lena's body, knowing the spray mainly was on her hands and face, but wanting to make sure her wounds were clean. By the time he'd finished, he held all her weight. She was done.

Clara reached around him and shut off the water, holding out a large towel. He lifted Lena out of the tub, dried her off, and Clara helped him get her dressed, exchanging the sweatpants she'd originally brought to the bathroom for a pair of shorts so that her wounded leg would remain exposed.

He looked down at himself. His clothes were soaked. The floor of the bathroom had puddles.

"Thad?" said Lena.

He looked into her eyes and almost choked. She looked straight at him. Her eyelids could open again.

"You look like shit, babe," he whispered.

Soft laughter escaped her swollen lips. "I feel like it, too."

She ran her fingers over his face, wincing when she touched his busted lip, his swollen cheekbone.

"I'm okay," he said.

She shook her head. "This is my fault."

"Shut up."

"If you hadn't been—"

The doorbell rang. Clara walked back into the bathroom. "That'll be the paramedics. Do you want to put her in my bed?"

"No." Lena grabbed on to Thad. "I don't want you to leave me."

He picked her up, ignoring his wet clothes and one boot full of water, and carried her into the living room where the paramedics stood waiting with Wayne, Glen, Chuck, and Lieutenant Gomez.

"Lena?" A male paramedic approached the couch and put down his container. "I wasn't expecting the call to be for you."

"Trust me, I wish it weren't me, Sam." She straightened her leg and groaned. "It's much nicer to talk to you over the radio and see you at the first responder softball games."

Sam lifted her leg, inspecting her inner thigh. "You've got a second-degree superficial burn." He looked up. "What burnt you?"

"The muffler of a motorcycle," said Thad, gritting his teeth.

Sam whistled low and studied Lena's face. "Now, I heard you had a little run-in with some mace. So, before I clean the wounds on your leg, are you sure it isn't a chemical burn? Gas...? Cleaner...? Lighter fluid...? Not that I don't believe it came from a motorcycle, but I need to make sure there was nothing else involved that could've touched your leg. Different types of burns are treated differently."

"It was the bike," she whispered, looking up at Thad. "It wasn't your fault."

He remained standing beside her. He'd been responsible for her, and she'd gotten hurt. It was his fault.

Sam looked at his partner. "It looks like it's been cleaned. Hand me the burn ointment and dressing."

Lena reached up and grabbed on to Thad's hand. He squatted down and brought her hand to his lips. If he could take her pain away, he would.

Sam taped the covering on loosely to her thigh. "This is only to soothe your skin. Tonight, take it off and let the air reach it, but keep it clean. You don't want an infection where the blister popped."

"Check her toes, too," said Thad.

The paramedic lifted her foot. "Any pain?"

"No." She wiggled her toes. "It's mainly my leg and my eyes. My nose. I walked into the pepper spray."

"Ouch." Sam looked at Thad. "What did you use to treat her eyes?"

"Water. Milk. Then, washed her down with dish soap." Thad's head pounded, and he ran his tongue over his split lip.

Sam nodded in approval. "That's the best remedy, besides time. Stay away from smoke, and any strong smells for the rest of the day, so the lining of your nose and your eyes aren't further irritated. Besides that, I don't think you'll need to go to the hospital."

"Thanks, Sam." Lena leaned toward Thad.

Sam stood and directed his attention toward Thad. "Do you want me to look at your lip and eye before we go?"

"I'm fine." Thad licked his swollen lip.

The paramedics gathered their things and left the house. Thad stepped over Lena's outstretched legs and sat beside her on the couch. He looked to Wayne. "When she feels up to it, will you take her back to my place?"

"I'll take you both. One of them stabbed your front tire on your bike." Wayne held Clara to his chest, stroking her back.

He shrugged the damage to his Harley off. Nothing mattered at the moment except making sure Lena was comfortable.

"Chuck, will you stay with Clara while I run them home?" asked Wayne.

Chuck's mouth tightened. "Absolutely."

"Ingrid is at work and Gracie is at the bar. I'll call Paxton and Pauly and have them keep the women there until I can get them both home." Glen popped a piece of gum in his mouth.

"Bring my sister here," said Clara.

Glen nodded. "Will do."

Lieutenant Gomez walked in the front door and approached the couch. "Thad, I need you and Lena to make a statement."

"Later." He lifted Lena's hand and inspected her fingers, making sure she had no other marks on her.

"It needs to be done now." Lieutenant Gomez cleared his throat. "Jose Martinez is at the hospital under police custody. He went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance. He's being worked on in the emergency room as we speak."

He should've kept hitting him. "They came after Lena. I'm sure there are witnesses you can ask up and down the street. I was keeping him away from her."

Gomez stepped closer. "And, I'll get to the witnesses when I'm done questioning you. Right now, I have three men being transported to the station and one man who could be dead. I need a solid play by play of what went down from you before I move forward."

Lena rubbed his thigh. "It wasn't Thad's fault."

"Lena and I were at Vavoom's, talked to you, and left there to come to Wayne's house. Two cars blocked our way. I jumped the curb after recognizing one of the drivers was a Tigres member. I cut across the back street, and the asshole I beat up stopped me five houses down from here. He wanted me to remove my pistol. I refused. He moved, and I beat the shit out of him, hoping the other three fuckups would come after me but they went to Lena instead."

"He had a knife and said he was going to kill me. Thad's life was in danger, too." Lena moved her leg and grimaced. "Two of the other men had a knife. I saw the weapons in their hands when they circled me."

"Who made the first intention to harm?" asked Gomez.

"I did," said Thad.

"That man did," said Lena at the same time. She looked at Thad. "Say he did."

Her mouth hardened and she lifted her chin. He kissed her forehead and whispered, "It will be all right."

"He hit you first. I watched him charge you," she whispered. "He started it."

He pressed his lips against hers, silencing her. She tried to protect him, but he'd done nothing wrong if the asshole lived. If Martinez died, he'd take his chance with a judge and jury.

"He threateningly came at me. I defended myself and Lena," he said. "When I found the other three surrounding Lena, trying to grab her, I took out Martinez so I could go protect her."

Gomez's mouth twitched, and he dropped his gaze to the incident report he filled out. "Did any of the other men threateningly touch you?"

"No," he said.

"Lena?" Lieutenant Gomez looked at her. "Did any of the men touch you?"

"They would have if I hadn't of had my pepper spray in my pocket." She rubbed her nose which was still red around her nostrils.

"You felt threatened?"

Lena gawked. "Yes. Absolutely. That man, the one who hurt Thad, said he was going to kill me. He said I killed his grandma. I still don't know what that means and ...oh, my God. Someone needs to call Yvonne, Shannon, and Gabi. There could be more gang members going after them."

Gomez held up his hand. "I already have officers outside their houses, until we know the rest of the members won't seek revenge."

"I don't understand," said Lena. "None of this is making any sense. Not the threats, not them showing up and trying to hurt me. Why did this happen? Why would he think I killed anyone?"

Gomez lowered his report. "We were going to bring Martinez in for questioning, but when we arrived at the Tigres house, it was shut up tight. Now, we know they came after you."

"But, why?" Lena exhaled. "I'm so sick of not knowing."

"When the detectives went through the 911 records, we had no call-ins for gang activity. They looked closer at the individual calls, took the names, and met with our gang investigation team, and ran a sorted record of names through their program, leaving out all female callers, the elderly, and going on gut instinct. We found a call for a 10-C-2 that came in from a linked gang member in the system already."

"What's that?" asked Thad.

"Heart attack." Lena grabbed his hand. "Did I take the call?"

Lieutenant Gomez shook his head. "Yvonne was the dispatcher. The caller gave the address to his grandma's house as 31^st and MLK where she had collapsed and wasn't breathing. Dispatch put the address through as 34^th and MLK. The ambulance took over twenty minutes to arrive, and the 10-C-2 was DOA on arrival."

Lena closed her eyes and reopened them. "Because of the one-way street making it impossible to get back to 31^st Street," she whispered.

"Between you and me, Martinez blamed the call center for his grandma's death because of the delay in arrival," said Lieutenant Gomez. "He had no way of finding out who was the dispatcher, and targeted all the female employees who worked that day because he knew he talked to a female."

"We're only human," she said, inhaling deeply.

Gomez nodded. "No one would find Yvonne or any of you at fault. It's an emergency situation. Addresses are exchanged. Sometimes the caller messes up, and...mistakes happen in a tense situation."

Thad stood. "I need to get Lena home. If you need anything more from me, call, and I'll come to the station."

"You know the drill, Bowers. I need you to cooperate with the P.D. Don't make this any more difficult than it is for yourself." Lieutenant Gomez nodded at everyone in the room and walked to the front door.

The lieutenant's radio went off, and Gomez paused, pushing the button and tilting his head toward the mic. "ETA ten minutes."

Over the radio, a male voice said, "We've got an update on the suspect at the hospital. Jose Martinez is being moved up to ICU. The doctors said he can be questioned in two hours."

Lieutenant Gomez turned, looked at Thad, and said, "It looks like you won't be facing a murder charge, Bowers. Considering Martinez and the other three gang members were low on the Tigres totem pole, I would take a guess that the leader isn't going to pick up where Martinez left off."

Lena's head fell forward, and she cradled her face in her hands. Thad gave a short nod, motioned for Wayne to get the car ready, and picked Lena up. He needed to get her back to his house where she could come down from the attack. Because when the adrenaline went away, she was going to fall hard and he planned to be there to soften the landing.