Page 94 of Toxic

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” Butcher barked. “We’re going.”

“We’ll see how it looks,” Lock said. “We’re not leaving any of the old ladies short-handed.”

“Don’t forget Isla,” Butcher told Lock. “I’ll never hear the fucking end of it if she doesn’t get to help.”

“I’ll leave that up to you, Butcher. You want her with us in Phoenix? Or here helping to protect the families?”

“Phoenix,” Butcher replied. “As long as there’s enough help here, I’d rather have her where I can keep an eye on her.”

No one blamed him for that. The woman was an assassin, and a damn fine one at that, but she was still Butcher’s woman. Having her by his side during the fight was preferable to her fighting somewhere where he couldn’t help if she got into trouble.

“Sounds good. This is all supposed to go down Saturday. Make sure you’re ready. Priest, show Hell and Smoke which weapons are ready to go and which need to be cleaned and prepped,” Lock ordered.

Priest scowled over at Hellfire and Smokehouse. “I don’t want them going through my armory. I have it organized exactly how I want it.”

Smoke rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to fuck up your organization.”

Priest glared at him. “Yeah fucking right. I’ve seen the way you just toss shit to the side when you come back from the field.”

“Because I know you’re going to put it where you want it anyway,” Smoke argued. “What’s the point of doing anything else?”

Priest glanced over at Lock. “Anyone else, Prez.” It was a request not a demand.

Lock shook his head. “I’ve got shit for everyone else to do, Priest. I’ll fucking make them clean it up to your specifications once you’re home from Hawaii.”

A slow grin spread over Priest’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” Hell muttered. “He’s going to make us scrub the fucking floors with toothbrushes, Lock.”

“Then don’t mess up his fucking armory,” Lock suggested with a raise of his eyebrow. “He keeps our weapons in pristine condition. I don’t want to be going after some asshole with rust building up in my fucking rifle. Do you?”

“No,” they both muttered.

“He does that by being an OCD motherfucker about the armory,” Lock said with a shrug.

“Hey,” Priest said, sounding offended, but he knew he was a complete asshole about the weapons and where they were stored. “Fine, buthedoesn’t go in there. At all,” he pointed at me.

“What?” I asked, sounding innocent. “Weren’t youjustsaying anyone but Smoke?”

“Not you,” he said, backtracking.

“Who would you want?” I shot back.

He looked around the table, his scowl deepening. “I’m not going.”

“Toxic, knock it the fuck off,” Lock ordered, pointing at me. Then he pointed at Priest, rising up out of his chair and leaning over the table. “You’re going. You got all of your girls, including Jenny, all worked up over this fucking vacation. If you cancel it, I’m going to have to hear all about it and that’s the last fucking thing I want.”

“What’s the first thing you want?” I asked with a shit-eating grin. “I’m guessing it’s a blonde-”

“Toxic,” he snarled, his eyes cutting back to me.

I took the warning for what it was and let my words trail off. He was inching toward that line. It didn’t take much these days to get him to lose his shit. His patience was wearing thinner and thinner by the minute.

“If I have time I’ll make sure they leave everythin’ like they found it,” Hush told Priest.

“Thanks, Man,” Priest said.

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