Page 101 of Jax

“Poor kid can only do so much.” With that comment, Lamb headed toward the big black door that closed in the president’s office, and beyond that, church.

“Let’s get this over with then.” I sighed to myself, picking up my feet and following my VP. I could feel a stone growing in my stomach. I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear.

At a similar height to me, Lamb didn’t block my view as I stepped through the doorway to see all the club brothers gathered within the small conference room.

Each main member was in their designated seat, and the others, the retired, the weekenders, even the prospect, Pipe, were gathered around the edges.

Meaning the girls weren’t supervised….

Shit.

“Kay’s with them.” Hunter read my mind, giving my shoulder a pat as I lowered myself into the seat next to them. I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was only a small one as I looked to see the hallowed expression on my president’s face. He gave a glance at both Lamb and me.

“You’re both late.”

“Got here as fast as I could, Prez,” I apologized, whereas Lamb just shot him a sharp smile.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” Wolf grumbled, giving his big head a hard shake. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

“How big?” Pretty asked, sitting upright and on the edge of his seat. Not as new as Mint, but still a newbie as far as club seniority went, he hadn’t seen much action in his years of riding alongside us. But of the bad he’d seen in the last two years alone, I didn’t blame his unease. We didn’t want a repeat of anything we had just finished fighting off.

“The last three Black Jacks we were tracking aren’t working solo anymore,” Wolf announced.

The ripple of tension through the room went from wall to wall as the brothers’ fists tightened by their sides and their jaws clenched. Mine laid flat against the glass table, but it wasn’t because I was calm. My knuckles were white with the pressure I was pressing down on them with, and my own muscles were coiling with the need to get on my bike and fly.

I could feel the burning in my shoulder like I had been shot less than an hour ago as opposed to the short four weeks it had been. It wasn’t hard to figure out one of the others had been the one to shoot me. The reason I didn’t know sooner was because I had missed that church, but when I was filled in, I wasn’t surprised.

Ronnie still didn’t know what had happened the night of the storm, and although she cast glances at my shoulder now and then, she hadn’t asked questions.

But I took notice of her. And I knew that she had a clue about something going on. And with her interaction with Anatoli Ivanov, I knew it wouldn’t take long to piece two and two together.

“So, the scattered Black Jacks teamed back up? So what?” I threw into the room. “We took them down when there were dozens of them last time? What’s changed?”

“What’s changed is that it was a concentrated and controlled attack,” Wolf growled. “We were in an open warehouse and they were fish in a barrel.”

“So?”

“So,” Lamb interrupted. “The Black Jacks’ style was never a run-and-gun attack. They’re known more for their stealth and assassinations. Having expectations from before will be like turning your back on a snake. It’ll strike where you’re vulnerable.”

“Shit,” hissed. “The girls?”

“Not just the girls,” Wolf’s face turned ice cold. “The incident with the gang members before. Our trade. The incident with your girl and the chase on your car. It’s all connected. They weren’t just coming at us randomly. They’ve planned this since the beginning.”

“Like a cobra constricting its prey,” Lamb said with an almost wistful tone.

“Your metaphors aren’t helping, Lamb.” Hunter glared at the poetic man.

Lamb shrugged; bastard never gave a shit about the atmosphere, otherwise he wouldn’t have done half the shit he had.

“So, what do we do?” Mint leaned forward, forearms pressing against the table, his leather jacket bunching up around his shoulders at the movement. Underneath his cut, however, I was sure his muscles would be as sore as mine right now, tensed far too tight for just sitting down.

“We don’t get caught in their trap,” Wolf’s hands reached for the handle of his gavel. His knuckles turned white around the wood shaft, but his face remained a picture of control and confidence.

“And then what?”

“We draw them out.” Wolf nodded, looking around the room, as if waiting for someone to question his decision. We all knew better.

“What’re we going to use for bait?” Hunter pressed, his body tighter than mine as the uncertainty radiated from him.

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