“Nothing,” Knox lied.
Silver whistled from the bar and waved him over. Knox headed in her direction, swearing under his breath.
The guy was wound tighter than a mummy wrapped in Spanx.
“Did Sloane just leave?” Blaze demanded, arriving at my side with Agatha on her heels.
“Yeah. I was dancing with Lucian Rollins. She took one look at him and left. Did I do something wrong?”
Blaze blew out a breath. “That’s not good.”
Agatha shook her head. “Definitely not good. They hate each other.”
“Who could possibly hate Sloane? Isn’t she the nicest person in Northern Virginia?”
Agatha shrugged. “There’s some kind of sticky history between those two. They grew up next door to each other. Didn’t run in the same crowds or anything. No one knows what happened, but they can’t stand the sight of each other.”
I’d been caught dancing with my new friend/boss’s mortal enemy. Damn it.
I needed to make this right. At least ignorance was a plausible defense. I was already reaching for my phone when it started ringing.
It was Stef.
“Shoot. I have to take this,” I told the bikers. “Hey, is everything okay?”
“Witty, I’ve got bad news.”
My heart stopped and then stuttered to a start again. I knew that tone of voice. This wasn’t “we’re out of champagne and ice cream”—this was “family emergency.”
“What’s wrong? Is Waylay okay?” I plugged my other ear with my finger to hear over the band.
“Way’s fine,” he said. “But Nash was shot tonight. They don’t know if he’s going to pull through. He’s in surgery.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“Some sergeant named Grave notified Liza. He drove her to the hospital. He’s sending someone to notify Knox.”
Knox. I found him through the crowd behind the bar, half smiling at something a customer said. He looked up and locked eyes with me.
My face must have telegraphed something because Knox vaulted over the bar and started pushing his way toward me through the crowd.
“I’m sorry, babe,” Stef said. “I’ve got Way here at Liza’s with all the dogs. We’re fine. You do whatever you need to do.”
Knox reached me and grabbed my arms. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I have to go,” I said into the phone and disconnected.
The front door opened, and I saw two officers in uniform looking grim. My breath hitched. “Knox,” I whispered.
“Right here, baby. What happened?”
His eyes were bluer in this light, searingly blue and serious as he held on to me.
I shook my head. “It’s not me. It’s you.”
“What’s me?”
With a shaking finger, I pointed at the officers making their way to us.