He nodded.
“He’s trying to get at me. Don’t you see that?” Tank asked.
A cry sounded from behind him, and he turned to see Catarina standing there with both hands plastered over her mouth. “Chad did this?”
Tank reached her in one step. He gripped her upper arms, holding her in place. “I think so. Right now, the clubhouse is an empty shell. Fuck, there’s not even a kitchen fully installed. There’s nothing to blow—all new wiring and every code followed. There’s no way the fire started in the clubhouse. But the truck…”
They both looked toward the hollow shell. The metal had bene completely peeled away in the three explosions that had rocked it, leaving only the framework.
Catarina threw herself at him, and he caught her in his arms. Holding her tight as he brushed his lips over her hair. If Chad was capable of this, Tank didn’t even want to think about what he might have eventually done to hurt Catarina.
His chest burned, both from the smoke fogging the air and raw fury. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of this smoke.” He pulled Catarina toward the house, some distance off and safe away from the fire, now under control.
After he settled her with Fiona and Mrs. Rothchild, he went back out to join Dixon, Ramsey and a bunch of other guys who’d heard the news and showed up. They all stood in the parking lot, staring at what was left of their newly built clubhouse.
Tank looked at Dixon. “If that asshole did this, he has to pay.”
Dixon gave a stiff nod. “If he did this, he will pay.”
“You’re sure you’re all right to work today, darlin’?” Tank leaned in through her car window. The concern etched around his eyes flooded Catarina with tenderness for her man.
She nodded. “There’s nothing I can do at the club to help. All I’d do is sit around feeling anxious. Work will keep my mind off the questions I have.”
He nodded and pulled her door open so she could climb out. He’d insisted on following her to the station and refused to take no for an answer, no matter how many times she assured him she was safe.
The morning drizzle didn’t help the despondent mood that settled over her. Finally, in the wee hours of morning, Tank took her home and tucked her in bed, but she only slept a few hours before her alarm sounded for her morning shift.
He clutched her fingers in his rough ones and stared into her eyes. “Sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.” She brushed a curl out of her eyes. “I’ll get through my shift. Text me if you hear anything about the investigation, okay?”
He nodded, but something in his dark stare told her that he’d only tell her what he felt she should hear in order to protect her. She was already blaming herself. If Chad really was responsible…
She cupped Tank’s jaw. “Please keep me in the loop.”
“I will. Call me when you’re back at the station and I’ll check out your car before you drive it. All right?”
This morning, while she was getting ready for work, he watched her put on her uniform and told her what the plan of action would be—that he would be watching over her every move for a while—and she didn’t fight him. She had to admit she was a bit afraid too.
Thank God nobody had been hurt, but if Chad really was responsible, he’d kicked Tank where it hurt most—in his club. His brotherhood was everything to him.
He pulled her in, buried his face in her hair and then kissed her between the brows. “I love you. Promise me you won’t be taking any calls to his house even if he says he’s on death’s door.”
She nodded. “I won’t fall for another trick like that. Please take care of yourself, Rob.” She clutched his leather vest and shook him a little.
He offered her the slightest hint of a crooked smile—but it was enough to remind her that together, they could overcome anything.
When she drew away from him and crossed the parking lot to the unit where Nicole already waited for her, she threw a look at Tank. He leaned against her car, watching her. He lifted a hand, and she waved too.
As soon as she slid into the passenger seat of the rescue vehicle, she met Nicole’s shocked gaze and almost lost it.
She held off the tears burning behind her eyes and the salty lump in her throat.
“Girl, you need what Charles left for me this morning. Check the bag on the floor.”
She picked up the bag containing fresh-made donuts. “They’re still warm.”
Nicole smiled, though her eyes still gleamed with worry. “Charles knows the donut shop owner, and he grabbed those just out of the fryer.”
Catarina didn’t think she could eat even though the luscious smells had her stomach twisting. “I’ll have one later. Do you want yours now?”
“In a minute.” Nicole didn’t immediately start the engine. She turned to face Catarina. “Are you okay?”
She dragged in a shaky breath. “I think so. It was a long night.”
She nodded. “People are saying it was arson.”
“It could be.” She bit her lower lip.
“There’s more—I can see it on your face.”
In a rush, she spilled everything to Nicole, telling her about how Chad had dropped his truck off earlier that evening, claiming there was a knocking sound in the engine. How Tank parked it outside in front of the clubhouse addition on the shop. And then how while she and Tank were indisposed, they heard the explosions.
“Holy shit.” Nicole usually didn’t swear, so the cuss coming from her lips alarmed Catarina almost more than anything had yet.
“I’m so worried about what Rob will do.” Saying that aloud caused her throat to close up.
Nicole set her hand over hers. Her big brown eyes calmed her. “He’s no dummy, that Tank. He won’t do anything stupid.”
“Even for revenge? Even if it means protecting me and his brothers?” She couldn’t feel more helpless. She looked in the side mirror and saw that he’d hopped on his bike and ridden away.
Nicole patted her. “Let’s focus on right now. We have hours ahead of us on our shift. And we’ve got fresh, warm donuts.” She smiled.
Feeling slightly better, Catarina nodded. “You’re right. Stay in the moment. Everything else will work out.”
She glanced in the mirror again at the empty spot of gravel where Rob had been just minutes before. No matter what, he would take care of what he considered his, and damn the consequences.
She only hoped the guys could keep him from doing something rash.
Chapter Eight
Tank gripped a blackened, scorched board and ripped it off the clubhouse. The whole burned-out structure crawled with guys in the process of a demo. The minute the insurance adjuster gave the nod of approval, the Dark Falcons descended on the club to rebuild.
Start over.
He clenched his jaw and reached for another board to add to the growing pile. Luckily, the fire had been stopped before it broke through the wall of the garage. The existing wall might require some reinforcement after the high temps exposed to it, but the Rothchilds’ garage was still intact.
At least Tank wouldn’t feel responsible for more than he already did.
Around him, the guys talked and bantered, making every occasion into a party. Even Dixon, who should be more upset than anyone, laughed at what they said.