Page 117 of Dash

King holds his hands up defensively, even while his lips are still kicked up. I don’t like Blade, but right now, I don’t think I’d stop him if he punched King in the fucking jaw. “Sorry, didn’t realise you were sensitive about it.”

Blade slams a crate into the back of the van, before rounding on him. “I nearly fucking died out there, and you’re asking me if I’m sensitive? Shut your fucking mouth before I do it for you.”

“I know that, but I was just?—”

“You’re staying.” I glance over my shoulder as Grub approaches. The VP patch is stitched into the leather—mocking.

King’s expression drops. “Don’t tell me you’re benching me because this prick can’t take a fucking joke.”

“I don’t give two fucks about your shit. This deal is mine, and I want to make sure it goes off without a hitch. If we send too many brothers, they’ll get twitchy. So, you’re staying. The rest of you, let’s go.”

King protests, sounding like a whiny kid.

It sits on my tongue to offer my place, but I have to go.

I climb into the back of the van, squeezing down between a couple crates while Blade sits opposite me.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t look at me either. I watch. I listen. I tuck every piece of conversation away in case it’s useful.

Grub pulls the van through the entrance of the multi-story car park, past empty spaces and through a ghost town of concrete.

By the time he stops, we’re on the third level, and I’m ready to get the fuck out of this tin box.

I’m on my feet, bent over to avoid brushing the roof, before he’s pulled the handbrake up.

I open the back doors and jump out.

“Let’s hope these fuckers turn up on time,” Blade mutters.

I grunt low, just wanting this shit to be over. I’d feel better if Mace or Riot were here—someone watching my back.

The sound of an engine draws my attention and a moment later lights appear on the ramp. The dark-coloured van pulls up next to ours, and three guys get out.

Blade moves towards them, Riley following, but it’s Grub who has my attention. He steps up to my side, and when I flicked my gaze to him, his hands are shaking.

Something prickles along my neck, an instinct I know not to ignore.

“Put your fucking hands up!” The roared command has my gaze snapping up.

Riley and Blade are staring down gun barrels.

Shit.

Shit, fucking shit.

One discharges, the boom so loud it hurts my ears.

What the fuck is happening?

We’ve been fucked over, that’s what.

An ambush.

An attack.

Fuck.

Blade yells, blood dripping through his fingers as he clutches his arm.

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