Page 19 of Dagger

I swallowed down the burn in my throat.

I knew from experience that living in the past would only make it hurt more. Taking Robert down for what he did would enable me to live the rest of my life in peace, a life which, God willing, would include my daughter, her husband, and Belle.

They were all I needed.

I looked up to see John still staring at me.

Over time, my Stone became the prez he had always wanted to be, and he made me proud. John didn’t look the same, but he was still handsome. His dark hair had turned salt and pepper, and the stubble I used to love had become a full beard. John had always been fit and muscular, but he’d bulked out a lot. His olive skin had a permanent tan from years of riding, which made him appear more weathered.

What hadn’t changed was his golden eyes. John always had the ability to look at me in a way that made my heart beat faster. Back when he loved me, I remembered how our gazes would lock after we’d made love, him still inside me and his legs entwined with mine.

A wave of sadness I hadn’t allowed myself to feel for years washed through me. Hot tears hit the back of my eyes, and I blinked to stop them from falling.

Taking a deep breath, I centered myself. Loving John only brought me pain, and I’d already had enough of that to last a lifetime.

I turned my attention to Atlas, who’d taken the seat beside me, and Colt, who’d joined me by the couches and was setting up an iPad on the coffee table. “Can we get Brett here for this?” I asked. “We need to call Hannigan and go over everything that’s happened. Our next step is to work out the best way to proceed. Brett’s our undercover man, so he should have a say.”

Atlas grimaced. “Well...”

My eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

“Okay,” he began. “When we first brought you here, we thought Stafford was in on the trafficking ring.” He jerked his chin toward Colt. “When this asshole called and told me to pick you up, he didn’t tell us who Stafford really was. We thought he was a sex trafficker speedin’ outta town with you on the backseatlookin’ like you’d gone ten rounds with Rocky Balboa. We asked Stafford questions, but he clammed up, so we tried to get him to talk another way.”

My stomach sank. “You beat him?”

“I got a couple in, yeah, but it was Prez who went to town on his ass.”

“By the time I got here, Dagger had lost his mind,” Colt explained. “They had him hanging buck naked from a meat hook, and Dagger was wailin’ on him.”

“Jesus,” I breathed. “Brett could’ve been killed.”

He shrugged. “Dagger had already smashed up the bar, so by the time he got to Stafford, he’d got the worst of it out of his system.”

“Why did he smash up the bar?” I asked, my tone full of confusion.

“Took one look at your injuries and lost his shit,” Atlas stated. “He hulked out so bad that Cash thought he’d lost his mind. Prez had veins poppin’ out of his forehead. Veep was worried he’d have a damned stroke. It took five men to take him down and hold him long enough for Abe to talk some sense into him. Straight up, not much in this world shocks my ass these days, but Prez goin’ loco shocked the shit outta me.”

My throat went dry, and my gaze involuntarily darted back to where John had stood just a minute before. “I need to see Brett,” I whispered.

Atlas took his cell from his inside pocket, stabbed a few buttons, then held it to his ear. “Tex. Bring Stafford up.” He listened while Tex said something before replying, “Yeah. It’s time to move things forward. How’s he doin’?” Another pause, and Atlas muttered, “Cool. Appreciate you, bro,” and disconnected the call.

“Everythin’ good?” Colt asked, propping his iPad up on the table.

“Yeah.” Atlas leaned forward. “Tex said Stafford’s better today. He can move at least.”

“Christ,” I murmured. “What the hell did you do to him?”

Atlas twisted his mouth slightly. “Ya gotta understand, we had thirty minutes alone with a man who we thought was complicit in you being beaten half to death and who we reckoned was runnin’ a sex trafficking ring. Men like us don’t have much patience with men like that.”

“So you just went ahead and kicked his ass, no questions asked.”

“We asked questions,” Atlas responded, seemingly a little wounded by my accusations. “He refused to answer ‘em.”

“Brett would never blow his cover,” I explained.

“Well, I know that now. If Colt hadn’t kept me in the dark, he’d have been treated differently. The minute we found out who he was and what he was really all about, we got him fixed up.”

I shook my head at what I was hearing. “You’re lucky the FBI didn’t come and arrest you all.”

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