Page 158 of Dagger

My head swiveled toward Arrow, and our stares met. “You ready, brother? Because firing that bastard could either turn out to be the best thing we ever did, or it could all go tits up.”

Arrow’s stare flickered toward the AT4, then back to me before the shadows in his eyes cleared. A bright smile spread across his face, and his teeth flashed white. “What could possibly go wrong?”

A lump formed in my throat, and I started to wonder if firing that goddamned AT4 was the right thing to do.

If it went south, I’d be effectively sending the entire club up shit creek without a paddle, that was if the Demons even survived the blast. Knowing my luck, as soon as Arrow set it off, the clubhouse would crumble to its foundations. Okay, so we had a building company, but Dad would have my ass if I blew up the clubhouse from the blowback of an AT4.

I heaved out a breath, scraping a frustrated hand down my face.

Talk about first-world problems.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dagger

We heard the explosion from a mile away.

A bad feeling slid through my gut, and my heart twisted.

My eyes slid left to see Kit trying to get my attention. He pointed to his lit cell phone on the holder attached to his handlebars, mouthed the wordclubhouse, and gave me the okay sign.

A wave of relief swept through me, and my shoulders slumped.

Jesus Christ.

What the fuck had gone on? We’d only been gone for two hours.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure everyone was still in formation, and my stare settled on the van carrying the girls and kids before jerking back to the road.

We’d found ten women and girls they’d kidnapped, along with another five kids who belonged to Sinners. The children were neglected and, in some cases, beaten and abused. Their clothes were filthy, and they were too thin to be healthy.

Not for the first time, I vowed to wipe out every Burning Sinner in existence. Every one of them embodied pure evil. There was no reform program in the world good enough to injecta conscience into them. The Burning Sinners were the Devil incarnate, and the Speed Demons were soldiers of God. It was our responsibility to send them back to the pits of Hell where they belonged.

We turned back onto the main road leading back to the clubhouse and I couldn’t help worrying about what had gone down.

Cash had proven time after time that he had a tactical mind and could think on his feet, but I couldn’t help the stabbing in my gut when I wondered if I’d thrown him in the deep end too quickly. Still, if I was going to pass on the gavel, I had to allow Cash to steer the ship, or else I’d never let it go.

My stare caught on the end of the road, and I sat up straighter.

Hendrix and his boys were already at the clubhouse. I could see their rental bikes gleaming in the morning sunshine, lined up and looking pretty.

My heart calmed, and my pulse began to steady until my eyes veered back to the road and widened again in utter shock.

What used to be a large vehicle was now scattered across the blackened road in pieces.

My heart kicked and began to thud hard again.

What the fucking fuck?

My face jerked toward Breaker, whose mouth was twitching like a motherfucker. He glanced behind him, and I followed his gaze to see Atlas’s lips thinning angrily.

I looked ahead again, trying to make sense of what the fuck I was seeing; then, as we approached, I noticed there was more than one car scattered over the road, and what looked like a huge pothole had been blasted into the asphalt—or was it a bomb crater.

A realization hit me square in the chest like a juggernaut.

Cash had blown the Sinners up.

Jesus Christ.

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