Page 57 of Dagger

“Tell me about it,” Layla bandied back.

Kennedy stared at Layla’s chest. “I bet yours flop down your sides like Spaniel’s ears after breastfeeding four.”

Layla sighed.

Cara laughed.

Sophie rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

I chuckled, thinking how these girls were a breath of fresh air.

Being the wife of Robert Henderson meant I was only allowed to befriend certain types of women. Most of those acquaintances were the wives of Robert’s business associates and good ol’ boys from the country club. Those women didn’t know the meaning of friendship and were constantly trying to one-up each other. I suspected a few had slept with Robert—notthat I cared—however, I didn’t want friends who stabbed me in the back, so I’d kept aloof.

Being around Sophie and all the other girls was a revelation for a couple of reasons.

They had each other’s backs and were collectively known as the ol’ lady gang. In Bandit’s day, the club girls seemed to have more say than the ol’ ladies. Now, they did as they were told. Before, the wives were expected to stay in the kitchen and were only wheeled out on special occasions. Things had definitely changed. If Atlas tried to keep Sophie in the kitchen, she’d kick his ass.

The women were integral to the club’s success, which was unheard of back when Bandit was prez. Although they weren’t members, Sophie, Ned, Layla, Iris, and Cara were still as much a part of the Speed Demons MC as the brothers.

Even the men’s attitudes had changed.

The brothers were primarily ex-military, but they weren’t disillusioned like Bandit’s men were. They worked, played, supported each other, and showed respect.

It was unexpected, to say the least.

I jumped slightly as my phone suddenly vibrated from the pocket of my jeans.

Tilting my ass to one side, I slid it free. Suddenly, the loud pinging of multiple notifications filled the room. My eyebrows furrowed as half of the men in the room dug into their pockets, pulled their cell phones free, and read their messages.

A bad feeling prickled through my gut.

My gaze fell to my cell phone, and my eyes widened in shock as I tried to make sense of the image on the screen. My brain began to misfire, disbelief clutching my throat as recognition dawned on me.

It was my—no—it was Robert’s house,and it wason fire.

Half of the building had collapsed into a pile of rubble, and the other half was alight. Flames licked into the black night sky, lighting up the scene, which looked like something out of a disaster movie.

My stomach plummeted.

Jesus Christ.

My mind whirred as I tried to get my brain around the image of the house I’d lived in for the past thirty years burning to the ground.

Shouts and hollers filled the room, and someone called my name.

My gaze lifted to see John striding toward me, but I couldn’t take anything in. The only thought in my mind was the image on my cell phone, and my chest clenched as shock reverberated through me.

Somebody switched the music off, and within seconds, I was hauled from my chair and pulled against a hard, warm chest.

Tangy cologne, mixed with the masculine musky scent that embodied everything John, made my stomach do a backflip. For the first time in months, my insides settled.

“You smell like the woods,” I whispered.

John’s chest rumbled one word. “Baby.”

“My house is on fire,” I breathed.

He pulled me closer and muttered, “Yeah. I’ll sort it.”

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