Page 115 of Dagger

Their responding cheers and yells were so loud that they almost lifted the roof.

“Mess with a Demon?”I bellowed.

Boots stomped as fists banged on tables, and my brethren yelled their replies in perfect unison.“And we’ll raise hell.”

I nodded my approval. “As you were, brothers.” Then, I turned and made for Church.

Abe fell into step behind me as we sauntered down the corridor. “Nice speech.”

Craning my neck, I smirked. “Should’ve been a life coach. Any job where I don’t have to fuck around with evil ass bikers and traffickers seems like a career I could get down with.”

Abe laughed. “Be careful what you wish for.”

We approached Church, and Abe keyed the code into the pad on the wall. The locks disengaged, and we walked inside.

Cash and Bowie were in their seats, both typing into their cell phones with their thumbs. Bowie looked up. “Atlas went to get coffee.”

I walked over to my seat and parked my ass. “Told Billy to sort it, so he shouldn’t be long.” I checked my watch. “Where’s Breaker?”

“Takin’ a piss,” Cash muttered, eyes never leaving his phone.

I rolled my eyes. “Fuckin’ heathen.”

He grinned, still staring down at his cell.

The locks clicked, and the door opened to reveal Atlas walking inside carrying a tray. Kit followed him in and closed the door before taking his seat.

Atlas placed the tray on the table. “Now remember, our darlin’ Rissy has left for pastures new, so don’t expect this java to be anything like what we’re used to.”

“We should get one’a them professional machines for when my Iris is away,” Abe suggested, taking a mug off the tray and holding it in his hands. “You can’t go wrong with them.”

“Can we get one’a them shaky machines, too, so we can make frappé?” Atlas asked.

My nose crinkled. “What’s a frappé?”

“Heaven in a damned cup,” he replied sagely. “Swear to God; men would fight wars over a frappé.”

“It’s a girl’s drink,” Cash interjected.

“Says the bitch who’s addicted to caramel lattes,” Atlas retorted.

“Least we know why you’re a chubby ass,” my eldest threw back. “Those frappés are a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.”

Atlas snarled.

Abe chortled.

Bowie and Breaker glanced at each other, smirking.

I bit back my laughter just as the iPad on the table lit up and began to beep.

Breaker leaned forward, tapped on it, and looked up at the TV. “Here we go.”

The screen lit up to reveal Hendrix sitting with a group of men who looked like a bunch of goddamned commandos and not the ones Henderson brought to my gates; these men were the real deal, wearing combat pants, khakis, and military-issue tees. The air of capability they collectively oozed made the wannabes Robert brought here look like grown-ups playing GI Joe.

Kit’s head reared back. “Whoa, LT, what the fuck have you been eatin’, small children? You’re goddamned huge.”

A big guy sitting next to Hendrix flexed the muscles in his biceps and grinned. “SPC Stone. I see you’re as skinny as ever. Don’t worry, if you work hard and eat all your broccoli, you’ll eventually grow up to be as big and strong as me, though it sucks you’ll never be as pretty.”

---