Page 66 of Warrior

“And are you handling everything else? Saint, Reese…”

Kade.

I finish getting dressed and yank open the somewhat flimsy door to the hideout. It’s no more than a shack adjacent to themarina. I trudge up the gravel path to the vine-covered gate, which I drag open only enough to slip through. Then it goes back into place.

“Tem.”

I wince. “I’m fine. I said that. Why don’t you believe me, Wolfe? Do you not want me to be okay?”

“It’s not that.”

“You just don’t think I’m capable.” I snort. “I’m stronger than you think.”

It’s why I’m quitting heroin. It’s been twenty-four hours… give or take… since I’ve even thought about it.

Okay, that’s not quite true. I’ve thought about it a lot. But I haven’t even considered texting Gabriel to get more.

I just need to keep myself preoccupied with other shit.

Like…

Boom.

I nearly fall into the gate.

“What the fuck?”

“I have no idea. I’ll call you back.” I hang up and shove my phone in my pocket. The good thing about fleeing Bow & Arrow without any of the guys is that I was able to get my car back. My car, which has my spare firearm in a lockbox in the trunk. I rush to it, my gaze sweeping the streets.

Smoke rises in the air in the east.

Shit.

I grab the gun and holster, attaching it to my pants at my hip, and jump into the driver’s seat. My bike would be so much better in a situation like this, but the car will have to do.

I fly toward Olympus, but the closer I get, the more I realize the smoke isn’t coming from that far north.

South of Olympus is the Hell Hounds’ compound and Apollo’s house…

Obviously, we have priorities. I drive down the dirt driveway to Apollo’s house, only to find it perfectly intact. I spin the wheel in their large drive and head back out.

Hell Hounds’ compound next.

The smoke is rising thick and fast from just beyond the trees, and I press my car faster. I’m glad for the bells and whistles that allow it to attack the road, speeding down the lane.

The front portion of the clubhouse isgone. Bikes are scattered, blown back from where they were surely parked in an orderly fashion along the porch.

The roof of the porch—what’s left of it—hangs down in the center. The support posts closest to the middle are broken.

It was a localized blast, I guess?

Fromwhat?

Malik bursts around the corner. There’s ash and soot smeared across his face.

This club has bad vibes.

Bad luck.

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