Page 45 of Dagger

The woman startles slightly, her sneer faltering as Sophie steps in beside me, her eyes blazing with anger. “What the hell is your problem?” Sophie snaps, her hands on her hips. “You think you’re cute, walking up to a pregnant woman and talking shit like this? Let me guess—you’re one of those sad, desperate types who needs to tear someone else down to feel better about your miserable little life.”

The woman straightens, her smirk back but not as confident. “I’m just telling her the truth. She deserves to know what kind of man Dagger is.”

“And I’m telling you to mind your damn business,” Sophie fires back. “You don’t know anything about Chloe or her situation, so why don’t you go crawl back to whatever hole you came from?”

The woman glares at Sophie for a moment, then shifts her gaze back to me. “Whatever,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Good luck with him, honey. You’re gonna need it.”

She turns and stalks off, but Sophie isn’t finished.

“Yeah, keep walking,” she calls after her, her voice sharp. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out!”

I’m frozen, my hands trembling slightly as I try to process what just happened.

“Chloe,” Sophie says softly now, turning to face me. “Are you okay?”

I nod slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

“Of course,” she says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and steering me back toward the table. “No one talks to you like that. Not on my watch.”

As we sit back down, Tank raises an eyebrow, clearly noticing the tension. “What happened?”

“Nothing worth repeating,” Sophie says firmly, shooting me a supportive smile.

I nod in agreement, though her words still echo in my mind. I try to shake it off, focusing on the sound of Sophie’s voice and the safety of being with my friends. But deep down, it’s going to take a while to forget.

SIXTEEN

DAGGER

I’m hunchedover my bike, tightening a bolt on the engine casing, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of my work. It’s the only thing keeping my head from spinning. Chloe’s face keeps flashing through my mind—her voice, her words, the way she looked at me last time we talked. It’s like a damn itch I can’t scratch, but I shove it down and focus on the task in front of me.

I glance up and see Tank stepping into the garage. His broad frame fills the doorway, and I immediately know this isn’t going to be a casual conversation.

I stiffen, my hand pausing mid-turn on the wrench. Tank walks in, his boots heavy on the floor, and stops a few feet away. His arms are crossed, his face hard, and I brace myself. If he swings, I’m not sure I’ll dodge it—not that I’d blame him if he did.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he looks me dead in the eye. “Look,” he starts, his voice low and firm. “Chloe’s like my little sister. If you don’t want her, stay the hell out of her life. But if you do... and you hurt her, I swear to God, I’ll beat the shit out of you. You’ll wish you were dead.”

I set the wrench down and straighten, meeting his glare head-on. “I get it,” I say, my voice rough but steady.

Tank nods once, relaxing just a bit. “Good.” He steps back slightly, his tone shifting. “Now, brother to brother, we gotta talk.”

I wipe my hands on a rag, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Tank looks around, making sure no one else is nearby, then steps closer. “It’s the Russians,” he says, lowering his voice. “They’re getting greedy. Want more product for less cash. Mason’s been pushing back, but they’re starting to make threats. Talking about finding another supplier.”

I frown, tossing the rag onto the workbench. “The Russians are our biggest client,” I say, my tone clipped. “If we lose them, it’s gonna hit us hard.”

“No shit,” Tank says, leaning against the wall. “Mason’s doing his best to hold the line, but they’re not used to hearing ‘no.’ If they walk, they’re not just gonna disappear quietly. You know how they operate. They’ll make it messy.”

I run a hand through my hair, trying to process. “We can’t let them pull out,” I mutter. “Not unless we’ve got someone else lined up. Mason got a plan?”

Tank shrugs. “He’s working on it. Got a meeting with their rep later this week, but from what I’m hearing, it’s not looking good. They’re pissed, and they’re making moves.”

I exhale sharply, my jaw clenching. “Damn Russians. Always pushing their luck.” I glance back at him. “What do you need from me?”

Tank meets my eyes, his expression serious. “Be ready. If this goes south, Mason’s gonna need every brother on the same page. This isn’t gonna be a quick fix. Could get ugly.”

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