Page 77 of Jasper
I lean closer, looking him in the eye again. I don’t raise my voice, because I don’t need to at this point. Sam might be naive, but he knows that I mean business. “They always go this far. Did you think the Hyenas had our town name on the bottom rocker as some kind of sick joke?”
He drops his gaze. “I thought there was room for two clubs in this town.”
“None of that matters now. I read your text messages. You were very thorough at betraying my club.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but I wish I’d never gotten involved with the Hyenas.”
Not falling for his line of bullshit, I ask my final question—the one I didn’t find in his phone. “Tell me who’s pumping money into the Hyenas’ coffers. Is it Banditos Twelve?”
His head lifts up and he states quietly, “If I tell you, they’ll kill me.”
I grab him by the throat and bark, “You don’t, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself.”
“They were getting money from them, but they didn’t get rid of your club fast enough. Marquez some weird rich guy was giving them money. I was there when they first met months ago. He said you need a biker to catch one.”
Suddenly, it all makes sense. “It was fuckin’ Whitmore, right?”
Sam swallows thickly. “I didn’t catch his name. He drove a white Lexus, stank like he bathed in cologne, and looked like he had just stepped out of a damn magazine.”
“Yeah, that’s him alright. Is that why you sent so many fucking pictures of my old lady?”
Sam’s lips press into a firm line. He nods, looking every bit as terrified as he should in this situation.
“You know that involving my old lady means I’m not gonna let this go unpunished, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he whispers, glancing to the side. Then he closes his eyes and waits for what’s coming to him.
***
I stalk back out to the bar area, sit down at the table to finish cleaning my gun. In my absence, the mood has shifted. No one is smiling or joking, and the mood is somber. Betrayal has a tendency to do that. I need to tell Tessa about those photos. We thought Whitmore had backed off, but if he’s in league with the Hyenas then we don’t know what he’s capable of.
No sooner do I snap the last piece of my weapon back into place than the room bursts into motion with a resounding thud. Boots pound on the wooden floor, people scramble back, and gear goes tumbling off shelves.
“They’re coming!” Mica shouts out.
Orders fly from my mouth without hesitation. I don’t even have to think about it. We’re under attack, and I just jump into action. “Slate, reinforce the windows. Onyx, rig the fallback paths. And Mica, get up to the rooftop and run point with the snipers. Everyone else, you have your orders already. Get to it.”
Tessa watches me from across the room. She doesn’t panic, but her eyes don’t leave mine.
I make my way over, cutting through the chaos taking place around me. When I reach her, I take her hand and bring it to my mouth for a quick kiss. This woman has become my whole world—a tether I didn’t know I needed until it was there.
“Remember the plan?” I ask gently. I don’t want to panic her, but I need her to get her sweet ass moving for the safe room.
Her eyes dart over to the stairs leading down to the basement, the safe room. Queenie’s already there, waving her over with urgency. Tessa snaps out of whatever trance she was in. “Get all the women to the safe room, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” I say proudly. “Now’s the time. The clubhouse is under attack and it’s very likely the Hyenas.”
I place my hands firmly on her shoulders. She’s looking at me with a mixture of worry and fear. I lean in, press my forehead quickly to hers. One last moment at her side and one last breath together.
“You get to the safe room,” I say. “Stay there until I come for you. Don’t come looking for me. You protect our baby. You hear me?”
One hand moves to her belly, and she gives me a stiff nod. She darts away, grabbing a club girl crouching frozen behind a chair and pulling her along as she heads for the basement.
I surge into the fray and dive out the front door just in time to see a huge truck with a battering ram on the front come crashing through the side fence. I curse the asshole who betrayed us under my breath, as I move forward.
A second later, gunfire erupts. When a bullet zips past my head, nicking my ear I realize they’re playing for keeps with headshots. The clubhouse shakes behind me. And before we can get turned around, we’re knee deep in Hyenas. They’re all riding around on their trashed-out bikes, yelling and shooting the place up.
The battle outside gets heated, and I scream for the brothers to fall back to the clubhouse. We need to concentrate on protecting what’s important. I dive into the small storage room tucked behind the bar. It’s not much to look at—more of a closet than a room—but it holds more firepower than most gun shops. We keep our overflow ammo cases locked in a cabinet. My fingers fly over the combination lock, and once the door opens, I grab a case of ammo.
