“Maybe he has to go to the bathroom,” I say, pulling the door wide. “Hi Wesley,” I smile, knowing how funny I look right now, but his expression hits like a gut punch. Something is wrong.
“Sorry, Violet. We have to go.”
“Pardon?”
“I need to drive you to Killian.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now. I sent a text, but you didn’t answer.”
“Oh, sorry.” I rush to the kitchen and grab a white towel from the stack and immediately start wiping the oatmeal, honey, and strawberry mixture away.
“Is something wrong?” Lorena asks.
“Sorry, Ms. Gagne, for the interruption, but I need to drive Violet to her husband.”
“Is anyone hurt?” I ask while pulling my socks on. We’d been doing foot baths, too. I get my second sock on and unroll my yoga pants which had been rolled up to my calves.
Wesley grabs my coat and helps me into it while Lorena passes my purse. “I don’t have any details, Violet. Sorry.”
“Call me as soon as possible, Violet,” Susanna says. “You can’t tell us what’s wrong?” She glares at Wes.
He shakes his head. “I don’t have details, just that Killian needs Violet brought to him immediately.”
“Love you guys, I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s what.” I quickly get my shoes on and grab my phone from the kitchen where it’d been charging, then follow Wesley out.
***
“What on earth is going on?” I whisper, getting in his front passenger seat.
He closes the door for me, then rounds the vehicle and as he gets in, he answers, “I don’t know the answer to that. I do know something’s not right. Jagger Carson called me, and Killian was shoutin’ in the background. Jagger only told me to get you over there and make sure I cover you. What that means, I can only guess. Talked to him just briefly when Jagger passed the phone and he was shoutin’ that he needed you, so I’m gettin’ you over there.”
“Okay, can you hurry?” I ask, heart galloping and stomach clenching.
He drives fast, faster than he should, I’m sure, but he does it competently. I shakily call Killian, but there’s no answer so I brace, my heart hammering all the way to Numbers. Just before we pull in, Wes makes a call on speaker.
“Pulling up in two minutes.”
“I’ll be at the door,” the guy on the other end says.
When we get there, Wesley takes me inside and Tony is holding the entrance door open, a phone to his ear. He jerks his chin up in greeting, then leads the way up to Killian’s office, talking on the phone as he leads us up the stairs, telling someone on the other end that we’re heading up.
Numbers is closed today, it’s eerily quiet, and my stomach is in knots. When the door to Killian’s office is opened, my stomach bottoms out at what I see.
There are two other men that I don’t know inside the doorway and not only does Killian’s office look like a cyclone hit it, the giant glass window that overlooks the club is shattered; just a few pieces of jagged, webbed glass remains. Stuff from the desk is all over the floor and his desk chair is on its side. Killian is pacing, running his hands through his hair. He’s disheveled and looks pale and frantic.
He sees me at the same time as I spot Jagger standing there, looking disheveled as well, with a cut on the corner of his mouth.
Jagger is about to speak when Killian exclaims, “Violet! Thank fuck!” Killian rushes toward me, grabbing me and pulling me tight to his body. His white dress shirt has a blood stain on it, it’s wrinkled, and he’s sweaty.
He frantically examines me, running his hands all over my body. His eyes are wild. Absolutely wild. And he’s trembling.
“Baby,” he whispers into my ear. “Thank fuck. You’re not hurt?”
“I’m fine. What happened?” I ask, hoarsely, taking in the space.
He squeezes me again, plastering me to his body.
“Too tight,” I protest. “Talk to me.”
Jagger steps closer and speaks gently. “We’ve got Willie coming. He should be here any minute. We need him calmed down. We talked about sendin’ him to the hospital, but-”
“Fuck the hospital,” Killian roars, “And fuck you!” Killian lunges for him, and one of the big guys from the door steps in front of Jagger and holds his hand up, saying, “Cover her!”
Killian punches the guy and Wes is immediately pulling me back, blocking me.
There’s a tangle of people partially blocking my view of Killian, but I can see and hear enough to know he’s beating up the big guy who doesn’t hit back, rather seems like he’s trying to contain my husband.
“Let me to my wife. Violet? Where the fuck is she?”
“I’m here, Killian. What’s going on?” I call out, but I don’t think he hears me.
“Violet!” Killian shouts, then headbutts the guy in between him and Jag, sending him back a couple feet. Blood sprays out of the guy’s nose.