This meant nothing to me and my hand inched toward the call button.
Her eyes didn’t miss this so she kept talking, jerking her head to the dark-haired man with unusual blue eyes standing to my left. “That’s Knight Sebring.”
Knight.
Knight was Raiden’s buddy.
My eyes went to him and my hand stopped.
“Least she knows you,” Sylvie muttered toward Knight, and an unbelievably beautiful woman came around his side and looked down at me with a small smile.
Then she said in a soft, calming voice, “Hi, Hanna. I’m Anya, Knight’s woman, and you’re safe. Okay?”
Not okay.
Nothing was okay.
Or nothing would be okay until I knew where my man was.
Because I remembered. I remembered everything. All of it. And as bad as what happened to me in my foyer was, it was worse with Raiden vowing he was going to take care of it.
I had a feeling with what he did to Meg (and he did do what he said he was going to do to Meg, the last thing I heard, she’d moved to Denver, mostly because she had no choice), since this was way worse, he was going to take care of this.
So I asked Anya, “Where’s Raiden?”
“That’s what we need to talk to you about,” she told me.
I did not take this as good.
“First, as Sylvie said, this is Knight,” she motioned to the man at her side and he jerked his chin up at me. “That’s Tucker Creed, he’s married to Sylvie,” Anya went on, motioning to the man with the scar. I looked to him and he gave me a small smile. “And that’s Deacon,” she concluded.
My eyes flew to the end of the bed to take in the extortionately good-looking, tall, dark-haired, scary man there.
“Looks like she knows you too,” Sylvie noted.
“I’m pleased to meet you all,” I cut in. “But where’s Raiden?”
“Hunting,” scary, hot guy at the foot of my bed grunted, and my heart started beating hard.
Or harder.
“Hunting?” I whispered.
“Yesterday,” Knight spoke gently and my eyes cut to him, “you were assaulted in your home by a man we’re looking for. You have a broken ulna, six broken ribs, a concussion and two stitches in your lip that the doctors say will dissolve and you’ll barely notice the scar. You’ll be under observation here at least until tomorrow and you’ll endure a recuperation period, but the doctors have assured your family that you’ll make a complete recovery. There’s no lasting damage.”
Except for the broken arm, ribs, barely noticeable scar, mild head injury and recuperation period and the news that my “family” was out there, probably worried like crazy about me, my ninety-eight year old Grams amongst them, that all sounded a lot better than what happened to me felt.
But I had bigger fish to fry.
“Okay,” I said softly. “But what does hunting mean?”
“You know your man, babe.” This came from Tucker Creed, and he was also speaking gently. “You know what it means.”
He was right. I knew what it meant.
Oh God.
I looked frantically to Knight. “You have to stop him. Stop him from doing something that might get him in trouble. Stop him from doing something he can’t live with.”
“He’ll be able to live with this,” Deacon’s voice rumbled up from my feet, and my eyes moved to him.
“Don’t let him do this,” I begged Deacon, his mentor, a man he trusted.
“Woman, we’re here to find out how to help him,” Deacon told me, and I stared.
“We need to find him, Hanna,” Sylvie Creed said, and my eyes moved to her. “Find him, calm him down and find these guys who did his to you. You need to help us.”
Okay, calming him down sounded good.
“Tell us everything you know,” Tucker Creed ordered.
Darn.
“I don’t know anything,” I told him.
“No, honey, everything you saw, everything they said, everything you can remember,” he clarified.
I shook my head. “I… they set on me fast and I…”
Sylvie (and her cute baby) leaned into me and she wrapped her hand carefully around my cast. “We dig this can’t be easy, not this soon after it happened, but as they say, time is of the essence. Anything you remember could help, Hanna. I know it sounds crazy, but even what shoes they were wearing could help. An accent you heard in their voices.”
My eyes widened, she saw it and leaned in.
“Talk to me, girl,” she urged.
I talked.
They asked questions.
I answered them and talked more.
Then they were done, and I knew this because they all looked at each other and Anya shifted around the bed.
“Give me Jesse, Sylvie,” she said.
Sylvie handed Jesse to Anya, leaned in and kissed her son before she ran a finger down his cheek then she turned and looked down at me.
“We’ll find your man and it’ll all be good. I promise, Hanna.”
I nodded. She nodded back, turned, tipped her head back to her man and she started to move. Tucker Creed moved with her.
I lunged, pain shot through me, but my hand clamped onto Knight’s.
He stopped and looked down at me.
Really unusual blue eyes. Startling.
“Hanna?” he prompted.
“Don’t let him do anything he can’t live with,” I whispered. “He lives with enough. He doesn’t need more. Not because of me.”
“What happened to you is because of me,” Knight returned, and my brows drew together in confusion. “So Raid won’t be takin’ care of this sick f**k. That’ll be me.” He caught my eyebrow movement and finished, “In other words, don’t worry.”
That seemed pretty firm.
Still.
“I’m trusting you,” I told him.
His hand twisted until it was holding mine and he bent close.
“That means something to me,” he stated low.
Then he let me go, moved back and he was gone.
That was it.
Seriously?
“If he says it means something, seriously, it means something,” Anya told me, and my eyes went to her to see her bouncing Jesse on her hip.
“Did I just get surrounded by a pack of hot guys and a petite woman who is clearly badass who are all off to hunt my man, who’s off hunting the man that had three of his goons beat the dickens out of me?”
She grinned and answered, “Yes.”
I settled back on a “humph” then kept grumbling. “You know, when Raiden entered my life, I knew something huge was happening. I was not wrong, seeing as the foundations of my world have shifted about a dozen times. Most of it was good, but I have to admit, I’m kind of getting sick of it,” I shared and she smiled.