I drag the hair from my face, push open the bathroom door, and step out. And there she is, holy f**k, she’s wrecked. Bruised, battered. It had taken everything in me earlier not to rush to her side, rip the gun from my waistband, and hunt down every one of those biker f***s who touched her. I forced myself still, forced myself to pretend with Katya. But now, standing here, I can’t tear my eyes from Claire.
Niko patched her up, I can see that, but it doesn’t matter, it should have been me. My blood burns at the thought. Her eyes are rimmed red. Has she been crying? My chest twists, when she looks at me. Her gaze rakes me over before dropping to the bulge in my pants.
Fuck.
I lock my face down, give her nothing. She shouldn’t be here. What the f**k is Niko doing? All he had to do was keep
