“Good.”
“You have any idea where the fuck this thing came from, kid?” he asks me.
I shake my head. Usually, his stupid reference to me as a child yanks my chain in all the wrong ways. He’s only a year older than me. Tonight I ignore it, blinking and clearing my throat from that last of the smoke in my lungs. Scrubbing my hands across my face, I see from my hands that soot streaks are all over it.
I look up at Cole again. “Did you see Cindy?”
“Yeah. She’s good. Not a scratch.”
“And Jenny?” I feel like a selfish douche for not asking Cole about his old lady sooner. Where the fuck’s my head at?
“All good. Just a small cut on her knee and a minor burn on her arm from trying to save the wedding dress. She’ll heal up no problem.” Cole shakes his head. “Women…”
“Sounds like her,” I reply. “Glad she’s fine.
My gaze scans the edge of the parking lot filled with my people and new outsiders. This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. Firefighters climb out of their trucks and start planning their emergency response. Some inspect the wrecked wall of the clubhouse, and others drag hoses out toward the small remnant of fire. Someone must have gotten the sprinklers going. Smoke and steam are rising up from where flames once were. Local police officers show up too, but I’m not too worried about them. Half of these guys have relatives who are members, and another batch of them are paid to shut the fuck up. Our club has strategic alliances, as Cindy calls it, key people with the power or influence to help the club maintain our business, livelihood or lifestyle in this town.
Two ambulance trucks show up next and park on the fringes to start triaging the injured. Those with more serious damage have already been pre-triaged by our in-house people, so they’re led to the EMTs first. Aside from the initial shock and confusion, it’s clear to me that this attack was minor, all things considered. Still, I’m staggered by whoever was so fucking bold to make a move like this. We deal with violence all the time. Bloodshed is sometimes our bread and butter, but this is different. The rival gangs never attacked the clubhouse before. This is fucking personal, putting members’ lives in harm’s way like this.
“Collect whatever information you can. I want the voting members in a room as soon as possible, and after that, a smaller meeting with just the executive officers. Tell everyone nonessential to go home. We’ll start in an hour. You know where.”
“Yeah,” he nods. “The Bunker. Consider it done, boss.”
I bob my head in a short nod. “Tell Axe to have Jenny take Sabrina home with her for now. And send some muscle to watch them.”
“Will do. Don’t be late, kid.”
