Page 27

Dagger

“Y ou lied to her?” Gio’s brows shot up and he shook his head, a small smile on his face. “That’s not a good way to start a new relationship.”

“It’s not a relationship,” I insisted.

“Relationship or situationship,” Gio shot back with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Women don’t like being lied to.”

I knew he was right, but seeing how worried Sinclair looked when I mentioned the Dead Ravens, I didn’t want her fretting, so I’d told her I had some club business to deal with.

I looked up at the roadside bar, a wooden shack you’d miss if you passed it on the highway.

“Looks like they’re here,” I nodded to the group of about five bikes clustered on the other side of the entrance.

One had the Dead Ravens logo on the gas tank.

Diesel and Rocky had decided to show up along with Rebel, leaving the rest to hang back unless they were needed.

“Let’s go inside.” Diesel led the way. A few eyes landed on us as we entered, and most quickly turned back to their drinks or the music that blasted through the speakers.

“Over there.” I pointed to a corner table where five bikers sat around drinking beer and laughing.

They wore black and purple colors, each patched with one dead raven clutched in the mouth of another.

I wiped my palms on my jeans and took a few deep breaths to calm down.

It wouldn’t do any fucking good to make a scene from the get-go.

I’d give them a chance to answer my questions first.

And then I’d kick their asses.

My hands balled into fists and then stretched out, again and again as we made our approach.

They were oblivious, the dumb fucks, just laughing and shootin’ the shit over shots and beers.

“Gentlemen,” I said, clapping the closest one on the back, scaring the fuck out of him in front of his club brothers.

He looked over his shoulder at me, after he gasped like a little bitch, and frowned. “Do I fuckin’ know you?”

“Not yet, but you’re about to. Real soon.”

He shook his body in an attempt to free my hand. “Then get your fuckin’ hands off me.”

“Of course,” I said with a friendly smile as I looked around the booth, taking in the details of the Dead Ravens. They never ranked much on our radar because they were too small to matter, but I could see they were young and eager, but they were also lazy. “As soon as we get a few things settled.”

One with pale blond hair stood and scowled. “We ain’t got shit to settle, so get the fuck outta here before you piss me off.”

Ah, there we are.

I flashed a smile and gripped his friend’s shoulder even tighter. “And what’s gonna happen if you get pissed off, Pee-Wee?”

“You don’t wanna find out, now get the fuck gone!”

“I’ll go when I’m ready. For now, me and my friends have a few questions for you.” I looked around again, taking in each man’s reaction, pegging the weak link. “We just have a few questions and then you can get on with your night.”

“What are you, a fucking undercover cop?”

I smirked. “Why, are you a snitch?” It was the insult to end all insults in this world, and I watched in amusement as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “If that’ll help you answer my questions, you can call me Detective Dagger.”

Gio and Rocky snickered, earning more scowls from the group.

The blond lunged forward, but a guy with a black buzz cut stopped him. “Ask your fuckin’ questions.”

“Why did you vandalize my shop?” It was an easy question, but how they answered would determine where we’d go from there.

They all laughed. They fucking laughed and my hands balled into fists so tight my knuckles ached.

“Okay, the hard way, then.” I pulled my arm back until my fist was right by my jaw and unleashed a jab that sent the asshole’s head flying back wildly. “Works for me.” I hit him again and then chaos reigned.

Fists flew and blood drops splattered on the fake leather booths, the sticky linoleum floors, and even the scratched wooden table. We fought with men half our age, bruising our knuckles until they were bloody.

“Get the fuck out!” The owner, a silver-haired dude who looked like an aging hippie, smacked an aluminum bat on the table to get our attention. “I don’t give a shit what you do to each other, but don’t do it inside my bar. Your drinks will be waiting when you get back.”

Forty long seconds later and we were out in the lot behind the bar staring each other down. “Hit me again, asshole, don’t just sucker punch.”

I stepped forward and sent a jab flying straight at his nose. “Is that better?”

He held his bloody nose and stared at me in shock, as if he couldn’t really believe I hit him. Again.

“Another one’s comin’,” I warned, and hit him again. And again. And again. And again. I beat that little fucking weasel until he fell to his knees.

“Motherfucker!” Before I could register the danger, a hard blow struck me from behind and I stumbled forward. “You’re dead,” the same voice shouted.

I rolled out of the way even though I didn’t know where the blow would come from.

The concrete was hard and cold against my back, the abruptness of the move knocking the wind out of me for a moment.

“Try harder, asshole.” I got to my feet quickly and rushed at him, letting all the anger and frustration I felt seep out through my fists.

The sounds of my brothers holding their own put a smile on my face as I pummeled that asshole. He landed a blow to my ribcage. Three blows and I bit back the pain that tore through me and struck him again in the nose.

That cry of pain he released was so fucking satisfying, I could’ve hit him all day long. But the telltale sound of a switchblade slice through the air a second before he sliced it down my forearm.

“Bitch!” I punched him again, and he sliced at me, but the knife barely broke the skin.

Instead of another punch, I reached for his wrist and smacked it against the concrete time and time again until the blade fell from his grip.

“You wanna kill me, kid, you’ll have to try a fuck of a lot harder than that. ”

His bloody smile flashed as we battled for control of the blade. I was determined and I was angry, and after what felt like an hour, the blade handle was in my hand and the blade sliced through his belly beautifully.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had to stab a man, and it wouldn’t be the last. His gaze met mine and I pulled back, getting to my feet before I grabbed him by the collar.

“Now are you in the mood to answer a few fucking questions?”

“Fuck. You.” That asshole smiled through the words, at least he did until I twisted the knife.

“Fine,” one of the others shouted. “Fine. Ask your goddamn questions!”

“Did you bust up the shop just to fuck with us?”

“What?” One of them laughed, but I didn’t know who because I kept my gaze on the man with a blade in his side. “We don’t vandalize shit for fun, we ain’t fuckin’ teenagers.”

“Not for fun,” Diesel repeated. “But for profit?”

“Now you’re gettin’ it.” He clapped his hands and then I heard the spark of a lighter followed by a long pull on a cigarette or a joint. “Some asshole paid us a few grand to fuck with you at the shop, so we had a little fun and made a few bucks.”

“You weren’t worried about making an enemy?” Gio asked.

“Didn’t think you’d figure it out, honestly.” He inhaled again and laughed. “Guess we should’ve.”

“Who?” I asked the question that needed answered. “Who hired you to do that?”

“Now that’s a funny story,” he said, and took another hit from the cigarette. “Some dude called Nick. Don’t know him and never seen him before. He ain’t from around here, that’s for sure, but whoa boy does he really hate your fucking guts.”

I looked up, and sure as shit, he was staring at me. “Me?”

“Yep. Don’t know your name, but he knew you worked at the tattoo shop and that you have a kid going to the elementary school. Didn’t take much diggin’ to figure out the rest.”

So maybe it was about me and not Sinclair? “Did he say anything else?” Slowly, I pulled my knife from his buddy’s side and wiped the blood on his pants.

“Just that bitch is gonna get what she’s got coming. He repeated that shit over and over.”

Shit.

“He wasn’t even talking to us either,” another said. “It’s like he was just mumbling it to himself like a crazy person.”

This was worse than I thought. How was this connected to Sinclair? My gaze locked with Diesel’s and he gave the smallest nod, which gave me the permission I needed to rush back home to get answers.

***

The house was quiet when I entered because it was the middle of the fucking night, but it wasn’t as quiet as it should’ve been.

I kicked off my boots and headed to the stairway, but a noise in the kitchen stopped me.

With my hand on my piece, I crept to the kitchen, where I found just the woman I was looking for with a glass of lemonade in her hand.

“Dagger, you’re home.”

I couldn’t tell if she was relieved or happy or annoyed. Given the blood on my shirt, most probably the latter. “I am. One piece, as promised.”

That earned me a small smile. “Glad to see it. Are you okay?”

I nodded because what the fuck else could I do with bruises forming on my face and blood on my knuckles.

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. “Clearly you have something you want to say.”

“Do you know someone named Nick?”

She looked deep in thought before saying, “I can’t say I know a Nick. I mean, I’m sure I’ve crossed paths with a few Nicks over the years, but none that stick out.”

“Think hard, this is important,” I urged.

She sighed. “I don’t know what else you expect me to say. I honestly don’t know anyone called Nick, okay?”

Frustration bubbled to the surface, and I raked a bloody hand through my hair. “You say you don’t know anyone called Nick, but someone sure has it in for you.”

“Do you think I’m lying?” she asked.

“I just think if someone is this fixated on you then you must have crossed paths with him. Are you trying to cover for him?”

She just glared at me, finished her drink, rinsed the glass, and walked away with her head held high.

Before I heard the click of her bedroom door, I knew I’d fucked up and I knew I had to fix it.

What I didn’t know was how the fuck to do that.