Page 26 of Jolt's Vengeance

I've impressed the Prez.

That's no small feat.

"Thanks, boss," I manage, my voice rough. I flex my aching hands, feeling the sting of split skin. "Fucker thought he could run."

Damon crouches down next to our captive, who's curled into a fetal position, face a mess of blood and rapidly swelling bruises.

Good.

I hope it hurts like hell.

"Now then," Damon says, his tone deceptively casual. "Why don't you tell us who sent you to torch our place?"

The guy just whimpers, and I feel my anger flaring again.

I snap, taking a step forward. "Answer him!"

Turmoil's hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Easy, brother," he murmurs. "Let Damon work."

I nod, forcing myself to stay put.

But my mind's racing.

Who is the fucker that would be stupid enough to hit us like this?

Sally, or the Kodiak MC?

Damon's voice, hard as steel now, pulls me back to the present. "Last chance, asshole. Talk, or I'll let Jolt here finish what he started."

I bare my teeth in a feral grin, hoping the dipshit takes the hint.

Part of me—a bigger part than I'd like to admit—hopes he stays silent.

I'm itching to get my hands on him again, to make him suffer for threatening my family.

Because that's what the club is—the only real family I've got, and I'll be damned if I let anyone fuck with that.

CHAPTER FIVE

Aggie

It's been a week since I've been here at the club, but it feels like coming home.

I push open the heavy wooden doors of the clubhouse, and chaos erupts in my face like a glitter bomb.

The air is thick with iridescent bubbles, floating lazily upwards and catching the light.

They're everywhere, a shimmering storm of soap and water.

Aurora's high-pitched squeal pierces through the rest of the noise.

The wee lass is tearing across the room, her chubby legs pumping furiously.

In her hands, she's wielding what looks like a plastic ray gun, but instead of lasers, it's spewing an endless stream of bubbles.

I can't help but grin. "Aye, look at you, ya wee troublemaker!"

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