Page 104 of Dagger

“You still beatin’ yourself up over Anna?”

His hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “Not exactly, but I miss her. Heard she’s met somebody.”

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I heard the same.”

There was another pause before he muttered. “Should’a told her everythin’.”

Our stares met. “Yep.”

“Got spooked,” he admitted. “Thought it was what I wanted, but when it all came on top, I was terrified.”

His sadness was so palpable that I wanted to reach over, grab his arm, and pull him in for a man hug, but I didn’t. He already had a dad to do that shit; now he needed a prez. “Had three boys, all with their own issues, who finally got their heads outta their asses and grabbed hold of their happy, do you know why?”

He shook his head.

“They talked to people, Drix. Bowie talked to Atlas and Kit, Cash talked—and still talks to a therapist, and I don’t know what my Kit would do without his military brothers and counselors at the Vet Center. I know you’ve got Will, and I know he’s a good, solid man, but sometimes you need to get out there and work through your shit with somebody who isn’t gonna blow smoke up your ass because you’re his only boy, and he loves the bones of ya. Speak to somebody whose job it is to be honest with you. You went through somethin’ terrible, so go work it out. It’ll make you a better prez and, more importantly, a better man.”

Hendrix nodded, deep in thought. “Yeah, Dagger. It’s time.” He let out a snort. “Shame you didn’t tell me this a year ago. I may have treated Anna better.”

“Would you have listened a year ago?” I asked.

He smiled the crooked grin that I’d seen disintegrate a lotta panties over the years. “Guess not.”

I grinned back at him. “I’ve learned somethin’ lately, Drix. You never know what’s around the corner. If somebody had told me six months ago that the love of my goddamned life, who I thought had fucked me over to marry another man, would be living in this clubhouse, I would’ve had ‘em committed. Never give up hope, and trust in God’s plan.”

Hendrix opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the beeping of his cell phone, still sitting on the table. He grabbed it, tapped, and read the message before his eyes lifted to mine. “Iceman and my boys catch a flight in two hours. They’ll be here by mornin’.”

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze, especially if the rest of the ol’ ladies come in for protection, but we’ll find ‘em places, even if it means they share some of the club’s properties.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about somethin’. It may be better if we keep our heads down. Hollister’s a tactician and can planoperations like a fuckin’ machine. He ran something by me before I flew over, and I think it’ll work.”

A sense of pride washed over me.

Months ago, Hendrix was a mess, because the year before, he took on a new club and got hit with a big betrayal by a man he saw as family.

But now, the military Scout was back, and he was on form. Every regret I had for giving him my club’s name instantly fell away. My Veep was back and ready to rumble. I couldn’t have been more proud.

So, I did what came naturally.

I leaned forward and conveyed in one word that I trusted him with my life and all the other lives connected to my club.

“Shoot.”

Seven hours later, I looked around the table at my officers. “I think we’ve gotta plan, boys. Are we all good with it?”

A chorus of “ayes” filled the room, and for the first time that morning, my gut stopped clenching and finally settled.

“It’s nearly time,” Abe informed me. “The brothers will be waiting.”

We all stood from our chairs and made for the door.

Atlas got there first, pulled it open, and waved us through.

I gave him a chin lift as I walked past him with Cash by my side, and the rest of the men walking behind us in heavy silence.

The position of president of the Speed Demons was a legacy passed from generation to generation. Granted, I was only the second prez in the club’s history, but Cash would be up soon, then one of my grandsons, and then the generation after.

I’d learned a lot as keeper of the club; the main lesson was that forcing things never worked out well. My dad always toldme the gavel should go to the oldest son of the oldest son, but I saw the pressure it put on my boy’s shoulders.

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