Page 157 of Dagger

Glancing over my shoulder, I expelled a relieved breath when I saw Layla duck behind the open window. “Thanks, sweetheart,” I called out. “You always were my favorite sister-in-law.”

I heard Layla giggle, and I shook my head, turning tail to run back inside the clubhouse. I went to the container and grabbed more ammo, stacking the boxes in my arms.

“Here,” a voice said.

I whirled around to see Layla shaking the contents of a massive purse out on a table. “Put them in here; it’ll be easier.”

My head reared back, wincing as I took in the bag. “It’s a goddamned lady’s purse.”

“Well, yeah. It’s also Kennedy’s Jimmy Choo diamond embossed leather tote bag worth nearly two grand. Your ammo couldn’t be in better hands, Cash”

My gaze slid from the ammo in my arms to the purse, and I sighed in defeat. “You win. Open the damned thing.”

She opened the bag, allowing me to dump the ammo inside. My lips twitched when I saw that even with all the boxes I’d gathered, it was only half full. “Clever bitch,” I muttered, going back to the container for more.

“You shouldn’t underestimate me,” she murmured.

I took the purse and flung it over my shoulder. “Thanks, Layla.”

She picked up her gun and slid back over to the window, her mind already on the task ahead. “You’re welcome.”

I winced as I watched her pop a shot off.

Fuck.

Bowie was gonna kill me.

The door flew open, banging against the wall, and Arrow stomped into the bar. “Cash!” he shouted. “Bear’s ordered the Sinners to pull back. I think they’re gonna run.”

My mouth twisted, my gut sinking at the prospect of the other club getting away. “We’ve gotta stop them. After today, the Sinners will cease to exist. We need to think of somethin’, Arrow.”

“How?” he demanded. “They’re in SUVs. There’s no way we can disable all of ‘em with just guns. We need something that’ll take a car out…” His stare fixated over my shoulder, and his voice trailed off.

I craned my neck to see the AT4 still propped up across the back wall. Slowly, my head swiveled back toward Arrow, and a slow grin spread across my face. “Can you work that fucker?”

He grinned, too, except his eyes remained glued on the anti-tank missile system. “In my damned sleep. But it’s a one-shot opportunity. If we miss, we waste the cartridge.”

“How long will it take you to set it up?” I asked.

Arrow shrugged. “Atlas told me earlier it’s already loaded, so all we have to do is take it to the window, knock the glass through, aim, and fire.”

Just then, Whiskey walked into the bar from the medical wing, his wrist in a bandage.

“What happened to you?” I demanded.

He held his hand up in the air. “Took a dive and dislocated the fucker. Can you believe it?”

“You okay?” I asked, concern filling my tone.

He nodded. “Fine and dandy.”

I handed him the bag. “Take this outside when you go. Get word to the men they have to stay back from the gates. We’re gonna fire the AT4, and there may be some blowback.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, taking the purse from my hand. “Blowback? When I was in the airborne unit, I saw one of those things take out a small aircraft. I think blowback’s an understatement.”

“Warn the guys,” I ordered.

He nodded and made for the door.

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