“You look like shit,” Stone says, following me into the clubhouse.

“Thanks,” I grunt, heading for the bar. I need a fucking drink before we sit down and dig into this shit. “Shot of Jack,” I call out to the brunette piece workin’ behind the bar.

“Make it a double, Lauren!” Huck shouts, tipping the mason jar he’s drinking from my way. “Shithead looks like he could use it.”

“Laura,” she corrects him, grabbing the whiskey and a glass. Turning to face me, she puffs out her chest and starts my way. “You need anything, you let me know. Okay, sweetheart?” she asks, sliding the shot glass my way.

I down the shot quickly. “Thanks.” Swiping the bottle from her hand, I wink. “You any good in the kitchen?”

Flashing me a smile, she runs her fingers up the inside of my arm. “I’m good anywhere you want me, baby.”

“Great.” Pulling back, I take a pull straight from the bottle. “I’d kill for a sandwich.”

“You’re serious?” she asks, earning a nod from me. The lust filling her eyes quickly turns to disbelief, then disgust. “Sure,” she grounds out, clearly offended I didn’t jump at the offer to get my dick wet. “I’ll get right on that.”

“Go get cleaned up,” Stone says, dismissing Laura with a wave of his hand. “Need all bodies at the table when we lay this out. Schrader and Torch sent proxy votes with Doc.”

Nodding in agreement, I take another pull of whiskey, welcoming the burn as it slides down my throat. Heading downstairs to my room, I sit down the bottle on the dresser and empty my pockets. Kicking off my boots, I strip off my blood and dirt stained clothes and head into my bathroom.

I’m sore as fuck, the alcohol barely taking the edge off. I managed a nasty gash on my right hip, along with a good dozen cuts and burns on my thighs and left shin. Not too bad considering I managed to walk away from that shit without catching a bullet.

I’ll take this shit over a goddamn gunshot wound any day.

Switching on the shower, I step into the spray. The hot water helps loosen some of the tension in my shoulders, but it stings like a bitch running down over my burns. None of that pain compares to the ache in my chest.

Guilt. Regret. Helplessness.

Fuck me.

Visions of Henley flash in my mind while I wash up. The sway of her hips and that smart-ass mouth quickly beaten out by flashes of her battered body on the ground in front of me. Her sexy smile replaced with her wheezing for breath in my arms.

My chest tightens.

Closing my eyes tightly, I press my forehead to the cool tile and let the spray pound against my back. Any other time this would calm me down so I can go into this table vote with a clear head. It doesn’t. The rage that has been building inside me has nowhere to go. I have no one to take it out on since those bastards managed to get away from me on the highway.

I don’t know shit. Not who they were, not why they went after Henley. Nothing. That only makes me angrier.

Wracking my brain, I start stripping down the entire situation. Drying off, I throw on a t-shirt and a pair of gray basketball shorts while going over everything I actually know about Henley Wolfe. If this wasn’t random, there has to be reason those bastards targeted her. Which only leaves me with more questions than I started out with.

Grabbing my bottle of black label pain killer, I head back upstairs to find Doc sitting at the table, waiting to patch me up. “Shoulda done this before you showered, jackass,” he mutters, checking the gash on my hip. “Needs stitches.”

“Super glue the damn thing,” I mutter around a gulp of whiskey. “I’ll deal.”

“The gash or your mouth,” he mutters, digging through his bag before getting to work on my hip. “They’re both flappin’ at me.”

“Someone’s a grouchy old bastard tonight,” Huck chuckles, coming to stand beside me. Grabbing the bottle from my hand, he takes a swig. “Miss your nap, Pappy?”

Looking up, Doc’s face hardens. “You’re older than me.”

“I am.” Scratching his nearly all white beard, Huck nods thoughtfully. “Older, wiser, and--.”

“Uglier,” Doc fires back.

“Funny fucker, aren’t ya?” Huck grumbles, flipping him off.

“Got my moments.”

Stone and Roanne walk out from the kitchen, concern filling her eyes the moment she sees me. “Colt,” she starts, only to stop.

“It’s all good, Ro,” I say, hoping to set her mind at ease a little after all this shit tonight. “Bike took the brunt of it,” I add, still mad as hell I laid her down.

Roanne nods slowly, her body visibly relaxing. I’ll give it to her, she’s tough. After everything that’s been thrown at her since she came back into Stone’s life, she hasn’t let it keep her down.

“Yeah. Jace said it looked rough.” Pressing a kiss to Ro’s temple, Stone faces me. “He and Benny from the shop are on their way back with it now.”

“Any word from Torch?” I ask, looking between him and Ro.

“Nothing yet,” Stone answers as Doc finishes up and pushes to his feet. Releasing his hold on his girl, Stone jerks his chin toward the closed double doors with the Mayhem logo on them that lead to our chapel.

Stealing back my bottle from Huck, I follow behind Stone and Doc to take my seat at the table. It is weird to sit at this table and not see anyone sitting across from me. With Schrader at the hospital with Shy and their new baby, and Torch rushing to be at Henley’s side, the table feels empty.

“How’s it hangin’, assholes?” Jinks asks, closing the doors behind him.

“Fair and square,” Huck huffs, sitting down beside me. “How’s your pair?”

“Long, loose, and full of juice,” Jinks fire back, taking his seat between him and Doc.

“You nasty fuck.” Reaching over, Doc slaps him in the back of the head. “No one came in here wantin’ to know that shit.”

“Ow. Fuckin’ hell,” Jinks yelps, his hands flying up to shield his bald ass head from another whack. “Stop beatin’ me, you violent bastard.”

Stone clears his throat, turning the attention of the room to the head of the table. “It’s been quiet here the last few months. We worked hard for that peace. Paid for it. Spilled a lot of blood.” Leaning up, he laces his fingers and places his hands on the table, his gaze shifting between all of us. “What happened tonight shouldn’t go unanswered, but we all know what that means.” Grunts and nods of understanding come from everyone around the table. “Torch fought beside us for that peace. His sister, Henley, stepped in to help this club without hesitation when Colt and Schrader were shot. That means something.”

“She means somethin’,” I add without hesitation, earning me knowing looks from everyone in the room. Sitting down the bottle, I scan my brother’s faces. “I say we find the fuckers and make ‘em pay. No way this was an accident. Wasn’t random. That car was in and out of the lot in under two minutes. Never even tapped their brakes.”

“Motherfuckers,” Huck says, slapping the table. “I’m in.”

“Anyone opposed?” Stone asks, scanning the room. When no one speaks, he blows out a breath. “Okay. What’ve we got to go on, Colt? Black Ford?”

I nod. “Two door. Tennessee plates. Hardin County.” I rattle off the part of the plate I did manage to see before I went down. “Guy who took a shot at me was white. Blonde, maybe.”

“Hardin County?” Huck asks, scratching his beard. “Merc’s territory.”

“Yep,” I reply, nodding my head.

“I’ll make a call.” My eyes move to Stone when he speaks. “See if he’s heard anything.”

“That car’s gone to ground by now,” Doc blurts, stating the obvious. “Won’t be findin’ it under a tarp in someone’s driveway.”

“Exactly.” Stone nods, his expression calm. “What about County law? See any issues there?”

“Lazy bastards never bothered chasin’ the car,” I bite out. “Too worried about nailin’ down my ass the moment they saw my leather. As for Dobbs, he’d rather be watchin’ Sports Center or gamblin’ away his retirement account than deal with what happened on the highway.”

“It’s in Dobbs’s best interest to play things our way,” Huck blurts. “Too much past there to cross us.”

“Colt’s right,” Stone says, shaking his head. “Dobbs won’t be a problem.”

I can see the wheels in Stone’s head running at full speed. Being club president has the guy constantly working angles. He plays every step we make like moves on a chessboard, only reacting when necessary. When he took on the gavel and asked me to sit as his left, I never hesitated. Stone has a way of building relationships for the club based on trust and loyalty, while methodically taking out anyone who crosses us. In his opinion, our goal is to deliver the most amount of impact with the least amount of possibility for blowback.

You are either for this club, or against it. With Stone, there is no in-between.

“Okay,” he says, clearing his throat. “First, let’s put in a call to Ashmead. See what’s tricklin’ down. Jinks, need you to get me everything on Henley and see what you can pull from the hospital security feed.”

Lacing his fingers, Jinks cracks his knuckles. “Consider it done.”

“We’re gonna need to know the direction County’s plannin’ to run with their investigation on Henley’s accident,” Doc mumbles, lighting a cigarette. The word accident rubs me the wrong way. Not that that’s his fault. “Makes our end of things a lot easier if we can avoid those felony trip wires.”

“I’ll know more when Torch checks in,” Stone responds.

I don’t bother telling them that my ass is heading back down there as soon as I can get away. Though my reason has nothing to do with finding out the direction of the police investigation, or getting access to the security camera footage. I need to see Henley with my own eyes.