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Aprilia smiled. “Nicco wasn’t wrong about the Slayers having a soft spot for women. Whether you realize it or not, that’s the one thing you have in common with the Russo brothers.”
When I glanced at Storm, his assessing gaze spoke volumes about how much he didn’t care for being compared to the Russo brothers in general. As we talked about the details of what she communicated to Nicco, the security alarm went off for the clubhouse.
Storm and I stood up and ran into the adjacent meeting room, tore open the door to the armory, and began gearing up. When we exited into the main bar area, I was glad to see Grit, our sergeant at arms, was there with a multitude of club brothers who were already geared up as well.
I turned to Aprilia and told her, “Go upstairs to our suite. Lock the door and the door to the bedroom. I want you behind double locks while we sort this out.”
She grabbed my arm with both hands and jerked me around. “I should stay down here because I still have a job to do. I need to see what’s going on with my own eyes. Plus, I might be able to give you pointers if I can see who he sent. I know a lot about Don Diavonte’s men.”
I stood there with my hand on the handle of the pistol resting in my shoulder holster. As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. “Go to Hacker’s office and lock yourself in there with him. He’s got drones in the sky. If you recognize anyone, let him know and he’ll disseminate the information to the rest of us.”
Her expression turned almost grateful as I stuck my earbud in place. I watched to make sure she was safe as I listened to Hacker through my earpiece.
“I’m counting thirteen men, all suits. They’re trying to crash the front gate, but the prospects have barricaded it with a row of cars, two deep.”
“Only seriously stupid fuckers would think they could take our clubhouse with so few men in a full-frontal assault,” Storm said.
Breaker, who used to be a munitions expert in the military, cautioned, “It could mean they’re planning to let explosives do the heavy lifting.”
“Aprilia says she’s heard stories of them throwing sticks of dynamite or grenades, be prepared.” Hacker told us.
We all stopped barricading the clubhouse and ran outside. Grit had called in almost every Slayer. It made me worry about our other properties.
Storm grumbled, “Fucking great. Some of us are going to lose fingers today.”
“Not me, mate,” Celt shouted as he raised his cricket bat in the air.
That crazy fucking Irishman was going to get himself killed if he wasn’t real careful. He should be trying to get away from a stick of dynamite, not running toward it. I hoped that what Aprilia said wasn’t going to apply in this situation, it seemed like overkill to me, but with those mobsters you never knew.
I stood in the doorway, trying to decide what area needed reinforcement, when the first grenade came soaring over the fence. Fuck. Celt took off running and managed to hit it with his cricket bat, splintering the wooden bat into pieces. The grenade landed several yards away as guys dove out of the way.
I ducked for cover, but I wasn’t far enough away. “Down, down!”
Suddenly a cloud of black smoke billowed across the compound. Thank fuck, it was just a smoke grenade, I’d not been close enough to see the shape of the missile and had assumed the worst.
“They’re just smoke grenades,” I shouted. “Get the gas masks ready in case they follow through with tear gas.”
I stepped back and grabbed a couple of aluminum bats from the umbrella stand near the door and ran into the yard, tossing one to Celt.
Meanwhile, Storm was shouting directions in our ears. “Try to hit them over to the side of the fence beside the barricade. Breaker, you go and unlock the side gates but keep watch for intruders. We need an opening to get out or we’re all going to be sitting ducks.”
“On it,” Breaker informed him.
Celt and I did our best to hit the next few that were tossed over, so the compound immediately in front of us was clear of smoke. The next thing we knew they were lobbing dynamite at us, though luckily the first couple of sticks went out with a fizzle. These fucking reprobates loved weapons they could use from a distance even if they weren’t as accurate. Suddenly, lightning hit my brain.
“Heads-up, brothers. The explosives are just a smokescreen to create chaos. Be on the lookout for snipers.
“We’ve got that covered, but good looking out, Mason,” Storm said.
My club brothers began pouring through the side gates with weapons blazing. It reminded me of war, sending a fucking chill up my spine. I turned and caught Celt gearing up to hit several sticks of dynamite taped together. I ran full speed toward him and rammed into him with my shoulder, knocking him to the ground. When the dynamite landed, I grabbed it and ripped the fuses out, burning the palm of my hand in the process.
“Dynamite is not something you want to hit with your bat unless you want it to explode in your face, brother.”
“Bullshit. It’s stable, the fuse hadn’t burned through to the blasting cap.”
“Stable unless you hit it the wrong way and the fuse ignites it.” He had never been in the military, so I shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t know that.
We both turned to follow the others, when a bullet nipped the heel of my left shoe. Before I could react, someone from above said, “Gotcha, motherfucker,” then I heard a rifle go off. I glanced up at the roof to find Teeny with his sniper rifle smoking in his hand. He jerked his chin at me and said, “As you were, soldier. I got him.”
