Page 116 of Dagger

Atlas chuckled.

Hendrix grinned. “Blade, meet Dagger, Abe, Cash, Bowie, Atlas,” he glanced at the man beside him, “and you already know Breaker,” he muttered, turning back to the screen. “This is my VP, Blade,” he pointed out the other men as he introduced them. “My SAA, Diablo; my Treasurer, Gambit. Then we’ve got Picasso and Fletch. Diablo is our weapons expert slash street fighter; Gambit here was a commander in the UK’s SAS; Fletch is a crack shot sniper, and Picasso… Well, Picasso’s a fuckin’ shadow ninja.”

All the men chuckled at Hendrix’s descriptions while giving us chin lifts.

I nodded to all the men in turn before settling on the VP. “Blade, you worked with Kit?”

He leaned forward, elbows to knees. “Yep, whatever Snow knows about bombs, I taught him. Everything else was passed down by Sergeant Espinoza, who sadly isn’t here in person, but I’m pretty damned certain is here in spirit.”

Kit gave Blade a tight-lipped smile and a nod.

Hendrix clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “So, word on the street is that Henderson is laying low with Monica Barrington in Mapletree. Bear Rawlins is currently out for breakfast, acting as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. As we speak, the boys from the FBI are in the process of moving in. The only vehicles they’ve allowed to leave Hambleton’s town limits are the three SUVs, full of Speed Demon’s women and kids, who are bound for Rock Springs airport.” His eyes met mine. “You sure you don’t want us to cover them?”

“They’ve got Shotgun, Maze, and Reno with ‘em,” I explained. “All crack shots. Layla can shoot straight, and so can Leesy. Sophie can kill a man with her bare hands.”

“Woe betide anyone who tries.” Atlas sat straight, puffing his chest out. “My Stitch will karate chop ‘em into next week.”

Hendrix turned to his men. “Atlas’s wife is a trauma surgeon by day and a Krav Maga expert by night. You know that move with the sweep and the headbutt you all went crazy for me to teach you? It was one she taught me.”

They looked impressed.

“Sweet,” Picasso murmured, grinning at Atlas.

“Right,” Cash began. “I take it Hendrix filled you in on the plan?”

“Yeah,” Hollister stated. “It works for me, but I want in with Snow when he sets off the little hits. If you wanna piss them off enough to come for you, do it properly. Eight controlled explosions, all going off together, won’t only piss them off, it’ll also make them ride out immediately.” His gaze went to Kit. “You wanna make things go boom, Snow? Just like old times?”

Kit grinned. “I can only set four safely, which is why we planned that number, but if you want in, we can make it a party. Their compound needs to blow.”

Blade dipped his chin. “Cool. It’ll be just like old times. You, me, bombs, murder, and mayhem. Beautiful.”

All the men chuckled.

“Everyone needs to know what they’re doin’ and where they need to be,” Blade relayed, his eyes catching Kit’s. “Think back to your missions, Snow. We used to quiz you until you knew your timings as closely as your objectives. It wouldn’t hurt to go over the plan with your men a few times. You need minimum effort, maximum impact.”

“You got something specific in mind?” Kit asked.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Think back to the bridge. If those fuckers need to get somewhere, block their route. As far as I can ascertain, there are two roads they can take into your turf. Make it difficult for them.”

Kit grinned. “I remember.”

Cash looked between his brother and the man on the TV screen. “How about you two get together later and work that out? Report back to me and Prez with a plan, and we can try to accommodate it. No point doing it here; we don’t know what the fuck you mean by the damned bridge, and frankly, your EOD bomb talk is a different language to the one that us mere mortals speak.” He glanced at Blade. “Can you get over here tonight on the down-low and hash it out with Breaker?”

Blade glanced at Hendrix who gave him a nod before turning back to Cash. “Sure can.”

“Look forward to meeting ya properly, VP to VP,” Cash told him respectfully. “Drix says you’ve pulled your men into line. I’d like to talk to you about that.”

Abe glanced at me and gave me a furtive wink.

I grinned at Cash proudly, and a sense of pride settled over me.

That’s my boy.

It was exactly what I needed to see from him. In the past, my boy always made shit about himself. He thought he was the best shot, the best fighter, and the smartest man in the room.

Seeing him come to the understanding that there were things he could learn from others to better his position showed me that my boy had finally grown up.

The most important job for any prez was to know when to take a step back and let the experts work shit out. Nobody knew everything, not even me, but to see Cash’s acceptance of the fact and watching how he handled it was a sight to behold.

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