Page 9 of Vengeance

Vengeance

Vengeance leaned against the scarred oak bar while every Royal Bastard in the room stared at the paper in Bowie's hands. The silence was worse than the gunfire. He'd expected anger and their threats, but he hadn't expected the look on Bowie's face, which was pure devastation. The older man looked as though he'd buried Savage all over again.

"Dante," Bowie whispered. The name settled over the clubhouse like poison. Vengeance closed his eyes. Here we go.

"You know him?" Chloe asked Vengeance.

Bowie barked a bitter laugh. "Does he know him?" His voice cracked with rage. “That’s an understatement. He’s well acquainted with Dante, aren’t you, Vengeance?” Bowie asked. She slowly turned toward Vengeance, and his stomach dropped. She wasn't looking at him with fear—not yet, at least. She was looking for an explanation, and it was one he wasn't ready to give.

Bowie crumpled the paper in his fist before pointing at the door. "Get the fuck out." Nobody moved. "I said get the fuck out before I put a bullet in you." Every instinct Vengeance possessed screamed at him to leave. Instead, he stood his ground.

"If I leave, she'll be dead within a week." The room erupted around him as men cursed.

"The balls on this bastard,” an older man shouted.

"I'll kill him myself,” another said.

"You threatening her now?" someone in the corner asked.

Bowie raised one hand, and silence returned immediately. "You've got ten seconds."

Vengeance met his furious stare. "I'm trying to save your daughter."

"You've got five,” Bowie warned.

"The Syndicate knows every Royal Bastards property in Alabama,” Vengeance said.

"Four,” Bowie growled.

"They've been watching this club for weeks,” Vengeance said, trying to persuade Bowie to listen to reason.

"Three,” Bowie spat.

"They've got people on the payroll inside the city,” Vengeance warned.

"Two,” Bowie almost whispered.

"They know every vehicle registered to your members,” Vengeance said. Bowie's expression shifted, but only barely. Still, Vengeance caught it. He'd gotten his attention. "They know your routines," Vengeance continued. "Your businesses. Your families."

"You expect me to believe all that?" Bowie asked.

"I expect you to look at what just happened." He gestured toward the shattered front windows. "They didn't come for the clubhouse." His eyes drifted toward Chloe. "They came for her." Nobody argued because nobody could. The dead man lying on the floor proved it.

"They had one objective." Vengeance looked Bowie square in the eye. "To capture Chloe."

One of the older Bastards kicked the attacker's rifle away. "So what?"

"So her staying here guarantees they'll try again,” Vengeance said.

"They'll have to come through us,” Bowie said.

"They just did,” Vengeance reminded. The words hit harder than he'd intended, and Bowie's jaw flexed. Vengeance hated twisting the knife, but the truth didn't care about feelings. "You've got too many people to protect." He shook his head. "They'll keep throwing bodies at you until you make a mistake."

Bowie stepped closer. "So what's your solution?"

"You send Chloe away,” he said.

"No.” The answer came instantly.