Page 110 of Dash

Riley hands him an ice pack from behind the bar, and he tosses the tissue he was using on the table in front of him. The blood is bright and dripping off his chin onto the floor. He took a hammering, there’s no denying that, but why?

“I’m so fuckin’ stupid.” He presses the ice pack to his face, hissing the moment it touches his skin. “Didn’t even clock them waiting. I was distracted.”

I don’t say anything, but I’m clocking everything he says and does. I thought these attacks were aimed at me, but now Blade’s sitting there, beat to fuck, and I don’t know what to think.

He’s wrecked, sure, but something about this feels wrong. It feels… rehearsed.

“I want those fuckers found. I want their fuckin’ heads.”

“Tell me what happened.”

I glance at Crank as Nic asks this—give a reaction, any fucking response to one of your members sitting here bleeding.

He doesn’t.

And Nic isn’t waiting for Prez to take control. He’s seizing it. He’s walking a line, a very fucking narrow one. As Sergeant at Arms, it’s Nicky’s job to make the club safe, but Crank should be calling for blood.

The unbothered look on his face tells me whatever justice Blade thinks he’s getting isn’t coming.

“I was walkin’. This van fuckin’ screeched up to the kerb. Next thing I know, three guys are on me, pounding the hell out of me. I fought them off and got the fuck out of there.”

Is this a strike against the club? Against anyone wearing the Sons name?

I don’t like the fucking guy, but he’s club, which means someone needs to pay for this shit.

“You see anything?” Mace asks.

He shakes his head and then winces at the movement. “They were wearing masks.”

Convenient. “Funny how it’s only you two who’ve been targeted,” Grub says. “Makes it feel personal.”

“Three,” Diesel corrects.

“Three, what?”

“I was there at the first shooting.”

Grub scowls, but it’s Riot who speaks.

“It’s the patch. Someone’s coming for all of us, and they’re just gettin’ warmed up.”

Crank scoffs. “And what evidence do you have of that? And don’t come at me with that fucking stupid note. That could have been written by anyone.”

I swear, one of these days, I’m going to wrap the fucking gavel around his throat.

“Whatever the fuck is going on,” Blade says, “we need to act. I got jumped in our territory, Crank. That’s fuckin’ disrespectful.”

King rushes into the room, his cheeks flushed, eyes hard.

“Temptation just got hit,” he says. My spine snaps. What the fuck is going on?

“Hit, how?” Mace demands. Maylie’s not working this close to giving birth, but the look in his eyes says he doesn’t give a fuck about that.

King’s jaw flexes. “They firebombed the place. It’s fucking ash.”

“Fuck,” he growls, his phone already in his hand as he steps away. Riot follows, his shoulders taut.

“His old lady works there, right?” Crank asks, even though he already knows the answer.

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