Chapter 4 #2
“Is he okay?”
Hawk nods. “He’s alive but bleeding.”
“Hawk, secure the fucker. Tank, deal with the prospect.” He turns back to the woman, and when he speaks again, his voice is carefully gentle. “What’s your name?”
“Isabel.”
“Isabel. I’m Stone. I run the Stoneheart MC.” He gestures toward me. “Josie’s been working with us. Someone wants her dead, and you just stopped their latest henchman. That means you’re involved now, whether you want to be or not.”
Isabel’s expression flickers. “I don’t—I can’t—I have to leave tomorrow. I can’t get involved in anything.”
“Unfortunately, you’ve been bunking with Josie so that means you’re compromised. The people who sent him will be after you. If you stay here, they’ll come for you.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I can’t care.” Her voice cracks on the word, the first real emotion she’s shown. “I have to—I need to go home. I can’t—”
She stops herself. Clamps down on whatever she’s been about to say.
A cold lump forms in my gut, the hairs raising on the back of my neck.
What are you running back to, Isabel?
Stone’s expression doesn’t change. He’s gone still in that particular way he has—the way that means he’s thinking three moves ahead, cataloging every detail, filing it away for later.
I know that look. I’ve seen it in interrogation rooms, across courtroom aisles, in the faces of men who’ve survived by assuming everyone is a threat until proven otherwise.
He doesn’t trust her. Not even a little.
I bristle, my protective instincts kicking in. I narrow my gaze on him, glaring.
She just saved my life, you asshole. Go easy.
“Where do you need to be?” he asks. His voice is calm. Almost gentle. But I hear what’s underneath—it’s a fishing expedition.
“Nowhere. It doesn’t matter.”
“It obviously matters.”
“It’s not your problem.”
“You just saved Josie’s life. That makes it my problem.”
The words sound grateful. They’re not. They’re a claim—you’re involved now, whether you like it or not .
Isabel’s jaw tightens. She looks at me, then at Stone, then at the door—measuring the distance, calculating her odds. I watch her realize what I already know: she’s not getting out of this room without going through him first.
“I can’t stay,” she says finally. “I’ll go somewhere else. Hide. Figure it out. But I can’t stay here and I can’t go with you and I can’t—” She breaks off, frustration and fear warring in her expression. “I just can’t.”
Stone nods slowly.
“Okay,” he says. “But here’s what’s going to happen right now. We’re getting both of you out of this hospital before anyone else shows up. You—” he points at Isabel “—can decide what to do next once you’re somewhere safe. But right now, in this moment, you’re coming with us. Understood?”
It’s not a question. It’s not even really an offer. It’s a command dressed up in reasonable words.
Isabel hears it too. Her eyes narrow.
“One night,” she says flatly.
“What?”
“One night. I’ll come with you, I’ll answer your questions, I’ll prove I’m not—” She gestures vaguely at the unconscious man on the floor. “Whatever you’re thinking. But tomorrow morning, I leave. No arguments, no locked doors. One night. That’s all I can give you.”
Stone studies her for a long moment. His face gives nothing away—not suspicion, not trust, not anything at all. Just that calm, assessing gaze that makes people confess to things they haven’t done.
I watch Isabel hold her ground under his scrutiny and my chest aches for her. She’s terrified—I can see it in the white-knuckle grip she has on her hospital gown, the way she’s braced like she expects to be hit. But she’s not backing down.
She’s used to negotiating with dangerous men, I realize. She’s had practice.
The thought makes me want to wrap her in a blanket and hide her somewhere safe.
“Fair enough,” he says finally.
Isabel blinks. She’d been braced for a fight. The easy agreement throws her.
It throws me too. Stone doesn’t make deals. Stone doesn’t compromise. Which means he’s planning to keep her close, watching her, waiting to see what she does when she thinks no one’s looking.
He thinks she’s involved, I realize. He thinks she might be part of this.
Irritation flares hot in my chest. I want to argue. Want to tell him he’s wrong, that I’ve looked into this woman’s eyes and seen fear, desperation, and the bone-deep exhaustion of someone who’s been fighting alone for too long.
For God’s sake, Stone. Look at her. This isn’t a woman running a con—this is a woman fighting for her life.
But I know Stone. And I know that arguing right now will only make him dig in harder. So I keep my mouth shut and let him play whatever game he’s playing.
“One night,” Isabel repeats, like she needs to hear it again to believe it. “And then I’m gone.”
Stone turns to me. “Can you walk?”
Isabel doesn’t seem to notice Stone hasn’t agreed with her.
Two people who don’t trust anyone, I think. This should be interesting.
“Probably not,” I admit
“Then I’m carrying you.”
“Stone—”
He removes cords and tubes from me with surprising gentleness, then scoops me up, ignoring my hiss of pain as my ribs scream in objection. “Hold on.”
“Stone, wait—I’m in a hospital gown.”
“I noticed.”
“My ass is literally hanging out.”
“I’ve got you covered.” He shifts me slightly, tucking the fabric underneath me with a matter-of-factness that somehow makes it worse. “No one’s seeing anything.”
“Except you.”
“I’m not looking.”
“You’re a terrible fucking liar.”
The ghost of a smile crosses his face. “Hold on, Josie.”
He starts moving toward the door when Tank appears, blocking it.
“Kid okay?”
“In emergency. They’ll patch him up.” His gaze narrows on the Isabel. “We bringing her?”
“Yep, you get Isabel. Hawk, get the asshole. I don’t want a shred of evidence left behind.”
We’re out the door and down the hall before I know it.
“Stone,” I say softly. “She’s not our enemy.”
His eyes flick to me. Something passes between us—not agreement, but acknowledgment. He’s heard me. He just doesn’t believe me yet.
He hits the elevator door, and we wait for Isabel and the guys to arrive.
The corridor is eerily empty. No nurses at the station. No orderlies pushing carts. No doctors making rounds. Just flickering fluorescent lights and the distant wail of an alarm from somewhere deeper in the building.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
“Someone called a code brown,” Tank says grimly, catching up with Isabel in tow. “Whole hospital’s in emergency mode.”
“Poop?” I ask, confused.
He glances at me. “No, it’s the code for a hazardous material spill.”
My blood goes cold. “A distraction.”
“Yep. They drew the staff away. The only nurse on this floor is down the far end attending to a little old lady.” Stone’s jaw is tight. “It gave their guy a window to work.”
They’d planned this. If Isabel hadn’t been awake, if she hadn’t acted...
I’d be dead. And no one would have known.
I shiver, goosebumps raising on my arms.
“They’re getting desperate.” Stone’s arms tighten around me. “Take comfort in that. It means they’re also getting sloppy.”
I try to take comfort in it. I really do. But all I can think about is the sickly smell of the hitman’s breath on my cheek. Twice someone has tried to kill me, and twice I’ve survived by sheer luck.
How many more times can I get lucky?
Hawk arrives, pushing the unconscious guy in a laundry cart. He’s hog-tied him with zip ties and a pillow case around his neck.
We exit the hospital without any major issues. Isabel walks beside us, her expression shuttered, her eyes never stopping their restless surveillance.
I watch her from the safety of Stone’s arms and feel a strange kinship. Two women running from men who want to hurt them. The difference is, I have an army at my back. Isabel has no one.
A black SUV idles at the curb, another man I don’t recognize behind the wheel.
“Get in,” Stone tells Isabel, nodding toward the back seat.
She hesitates, one foot on the pavement, one in the vehicle. “Where are we going?”
“Our clubhouse. It’s secure.”
“And then?”
“And then you get some sleep. We all do. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out next steps.”
Isabel doesn’t move. Her hand is on the door frame, her knuckles white.
“I need to leave in the morning,” she says. “First thing. I wasn’t lying about that.”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
Stone’s eyes meet hers. Something unspoken passes between them—a battle of wills, brief but intense.
I should be focused on their standoff. Instead, I’m acutely aware of Stone’s heartbeat against my side, the warmth of his chest, the way his thumb traces absent circles on my hip as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
Stop it, I tell myself. You almost died. This is not the time.
But my body doesn’t care about timing. My body just knows he’s here, he’s holding me, and for the first time in hours, I feel safe.
“Get in the car, Isabel,” he says finally. “We’ll figure the rest out later.”
For a moment, I think she’ll refuse and take off running into the darkness and we’ll never see her again.
Then she glances at me—still cradled against Stone’s chest, broken and bruised and completely helpless.
“Fine,” she mutters, and climbs into the SUV.
Stone settles me beside her, and I feel the loss of his warmth immediately. He gets in the front passenger seat. Tank slides behind the wheel, and Hawk loads the cartel henchman in the back, climbing in after him.
We pull away from the hospital into the cool night air.
Isabel stares out the window, her reflection a ghost against the glass.
I lean my head back against the seat, exhaustion crashing over me in waves. My ribs throb. My head pounds. Every part of me aches, inside and out.
Tonight, we’ve both survived. That’s enough for now.