Page 2 of Cash’s Trouble

The question is calm, but his eyes aren’t. My back is against the wall and his body is inches from mine, broad and alive with restrained violence. The same hand that just put Doran down cups my jaw with startling care, turning my face toward the light.

“I’m fine.” My voice shakes enough to make the lie useless.

“He had you by the throat?”

“My mouth. The other one grabbed my waist.” I pull my sore wrist against my chest. Cash’s gaze drops to the marks Doran left behind, already reddening beneath my skin.

“Let me see.”

I give him my wrist because arguing feels more difficult than obeying. His fingers are warm and rough, his touch controlled as he tests the joint. Heat moves through me amid the fear and shock, proving my body has no respect for timing.

Cash looks at me, and I get the unnerving impression he notices. “Move your fingers.”

I flex them. “Nothing’s broken.”

“No, but he put marks on you.” His thumb brushes once beneath the bruise. The words are almost conversational. The promise inside them isn’t.

People are beginning to emerge from the neighboring businesses. Cash holsters his gun, retrieves my purse and gathers my scattered belongings, then positions himself so the growing audience sees his back rather than my torn blouse. The Kingdom Come patch fills my vision: a winged skull, bold lettering and thirty years of everything my father taught me not to trust.

I should feel safer when I spot Mrs. Tillman calling someone from the pharmacy doorway. Instead, I look at Cash. “That was Mick Doran. I’ve seen him with Wade Corbin.”

His head comes up. “Chief Deputy Corbin?”

“At O’Malley’s, more than once. Doran said Corbin sent them because my father needed me.”

Cash studies the road where the SUV vanished, putting pieces together without sharing them. “Your dad ever send civilians to collect you?”

“Of course not. He’d call me himself.”

“Then they knew enough to use a name you’d recognize. Your place isn’t safe, and neither are you until we know exactly what’s going on.”

The blunt certainty chills me more than the attempt itself. I tell him I need to call Dad, but Cash is already taking out his phone. “You will. First, I’m telling Kane what happened.”

Kane is the president of Kingdom Come. I know that much from my father too. Cash doesn’t step away or lower his voice. “Two men tried to grab Lilly-Rose outside the bank. Mick Doran and another guy. Both gone. Doran used Corbin’s name.” He listens briefly, his gaze staying on me. “No. I’m not leaving her here.”

Whatever Kane says takes only seconds. Cash ends the call and holds out my purse. “Kane wants you inside the compound. Your father can meet us there.”

“Kingdom Come’s compound?”

His mouth shifts faintly. “The only one we have.”

My father’s warnings have lived in my head for years. King, the old president, ran Kingdom Come for three decades, buying loyalty and burying evidence. Kane has held the gavel only a few months, and Dad says dangerous men don’t become safe just because the leadership changes. Cash doesn’t look safe, but he put himself between me and a gun and let the men escape rather than leave me exposed.

“Do I have another sensible option?” I ask.

“Not one I’d trust right now.”

The honesty decides it. “Then take me there, I guess.”

His eyes darken, and for one charged second the words seem to mean more than transportation. He retrieves my missing shoe from beneath the SUV’s former parking space and crouches in front of me.

“I can put on my own shoe.”

“I know.” He steadies my ankle while I slide my foot into it. His palm wraps almost completely around the back of my calf, and my breath catches before I can stop it.

Cash rises slowly. He knows that too. “Bike’s across the street. Stay beside me.”

The instruction should irritate me. Instead, I stay close enough for his cut to brush my arm as we cross Main. He gives me the spare helmet from his saddlebag, checks the strap with two efficient fingers and swings onto the motorcycle.