Page 152 of Dagger

My heart jerked, and pure, unadulterated relief whooshed through me.

I scrambled for the vehicle, pointing my gun down at the shooter in case he wasn’t entirely dead. I needn’t have worried. The fucker lay in a massive pool of blood, his eyes wide open, staring unseeing at the sky.

My cell rang, and I jumped slightly before reaching into my pocket and grabbing it. I shook my head when I saw who was calling, stabbing the green button and holding it to my ear. “Pop?”

“You okay, Son?” Dad rumbled.

“Yeah,” I said, dropping to my ass beside the dead body. “Thanks to you.”

“Time to stop fuckin’ around,” Pop muttered. “Just heard from Cash. Bear, his lieutenants, and Henderson’s army are five minutes out from the clubhouse.”

I smirked. “Bring it.”

“Stop dillydallying, asshole,” Pop ordered. “The fuck you doin’? You could’ve taken that cunt out yourself.”

My eyes rolled right again. “More fun when you do it for me.”

“I’ll take out the key players and leave the rest for you boys. It’ll take me five minutes to get to you, and then we need to roll out and back the boys up.”

“Breaker ready?” I asked.

“Bombs are planted all around the house. Kill those fuckers, drag ‘em inside, and get your asses back to the gates before Kit and Blade blow the place up. Mac will be there in about a minute to pick up the girls and kids.”

“Kids?”

“Yeah,” Pop muttered. “They’re Bear’s and his LT’s kids. Five of ‘em. A baby girl, two toddlers, a ten- and twelve-year-old.”

“Jesus,” I muttered. “Poor little things have had a lucky escape. Wonder how long it would have been until they sold them, too.”

“One of the women told Atlas she overheard negotiations for the two oldest,” Dad bit out. “I know who their dad is. I’ve got my own plans for him, Bowie. Right, chop chop, Son. Get this shit under control. I’ll be there soon.”

Before I could reply, the line went dead.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, turned toward the fray, and peeked over the top of the car, shaking my head at the full-on gunfight happening around me. Our plan from the get-go was to come here, stall, and let their officers believe our clubhouse was vulnerable.

Tick, tick, fucking tick.

I stuck two fingers in my mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Within seconds, the air was filled with them, a collective sign that the Speed Demons were about to move on to the next phase.

Operation Burn a Sinner.

Not the best play on words but it did the job.

The men’s whistling was suddenly drowned out by therat-tat-tattingof an M240 machine gun and shouts and screams of pain filled the courtyard. I stood from my position, aimed my Glock at a group of Sinners running for the outbuildings, and fired.

One went down, followed by the other as Atlas sprayed them with bullets from his machine gun. My eyes slid to At, and I couldn’t help busting out a laugh when I saw the crazy bastard had tied a bandana around his head and was doing his best Rambo impression, aiming the machine gun and rapid firing with a loudrat, tat, tat.

He threw his head back and bellowed, “I fuckin’ love my life!”

And as I aimed my gun and my jaw clenched determinedly as I took out another Sinner, I couldn’t help but think,Yeah, Atlas, me too.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Cash

The clubhouse was a hive of activity, with men running around, checking ammo, and shouting orders. We’d just had word that we were about to get some unwanted company, so the plan we’d been sitting on since our last meeting was being put into action.

Bear and Henderson were under the impression that half our members were missing and we were sitting ducks.

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