“We’re okay. You’re good. We’re golden,” I keep repeating.

But that’s pure bullshit. Sabrina’s still trembling beneath me. Her small hands dig into my shirt, fingers clawing at my chest for some sense of security. I readjust to the dizziness that won’t quit long after the shaking stops, bunching my shoulders into a knot. The temptation to leave the room and check things out is at an all-time high, but something keeps me from moving. I’m not stalling because I don’t want to loosen my tight hold around Sabrina’s waist without making sure she’s fine.

That’s not it at all.

I know better.

Then another explosion rattles the far end of the clubhouse.

It’s not fucking over.

“Shhh.” I’m distracted as I try to soothe her tiny, fearful shrieks while my eyes roam around her body looking for any sign of injury. “It’s going to be fine, Sabrina.”

Yeah right.

What’s fucked up is I don’t know whether she’s more freaked out because of the attack, or from the calm that she sees behind my eyes. Everyone around the club says my eyes turn cold when shit goes down.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere? I don’t see anything…”

She’s still gripping at my shirt as I roll off of her and pull her up to sit. “I’m good,” she answers. “What just happened?”

“The place was hit. Look, I’ve gotta go check.” Helping her to stand, I guide her over to the bed. “Stay put. Don’t leave this room. Understand?”

“But, you can’t do that… don’t just leave me here, come on, please don’t—”

In spite of the pleading in her voice and her state of shock, I rush away and lock the door from the outside.

“You bastard!” she screams through the door, realizing right away that I locked her in there. I hear Sabrina cussing me out all the way down the hall.

Whatever. She’s safest up here. That’s all that matters as I head downstairs. Some fucker got two steps ahead of the game by trying to blow up the clubhouse and actually pulling it off. I vault down into the clubhouse common room. There’ll be hell to pay if any of my members are hurt. Then I stop in my tracks at the bottom step. It’s chaos. It’s close to impossible to piece together the jigsaw of images. There’s smoke everywhere, and panicked cries at varying levels of high-pitched screaming from most every woman in the place. One wall is blown out, leaving only a sparking half of the new big screen TV once mounted on it. That’s toast. Some of the men stand up and dust the debris off of themselves and others.

“Boys!” I struggle to make out the faces of my men through the smoky, sulphur-like haze that has us all choking for clean air.

“Tate’s outside,” a male voice calls out.

A few moments later, I notice that the building’s sprinkler system hasn’t gone off. That’s not good. The thing’s brand new.

“Get everyone out now and find a way to reset the sprinklers!” I bark the order. “If it’s not up in four minutes, call the fucking fire department. And someone tell Axe to get Sabrina out of her room if it’s not under control by then too.”

Now, I need answers. I cover my mouth and nose with the neck of my t-shirt and run in what I think is the direction of the clubhouse front doors. Seconds feel like minutes, but I burst outside into the night just as Tate’s pulling away on his bike with a grim look on his mug. Yeah, shit’s about to go down for this. Whoever started this attack is in for a rough wake-up call, and if they’re still nearby, we’ll fucking end them.

A sudden chill makes me shiver. As much as I want to haul ass after Tate, I don’t have any idea where my brother’s going, and I’m needed here. If Tate finds anyone, I trust him enough to take care of business and report back. Still, my spine tightens as the first wail of a siren breaks through the quiet from miles away. I should be on my ride, going after whoever did this, not stuck here with my feet planted in the desert dirt.

More of the members start to stumble outside. It’s hard to tell who’s who with all the soot on people’s faces, and it’s that much harder to figure out if anyone saw anything. This parkng lot will be a fucking circus by the time all the emergency responders arrive. Most of them know not to put their nose where it doesn’t belong, though. Some actually feed us information whenever they come across solid intel. But right this second, I don’t know who to trust, and will only rely on my inner circle to get to the bottom of this attack.

Turning back to the clubhouse, I start to wonder if my mother was still here when the bombs went off. If she were, she’s the first person the members would look for and pull to safety. She has to be fine. I survey the damage to the outside of the building. One exterior wall is singed and smoky, and another has a giant hole in it about the size of three men standing side by side. The northwest section of the place is still smoldering. The area where Sabrina’s locked away is untouched, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering how she is. By now, Axe must have taken her out of the room and should have her somewhere at the back of the property, away from too many eyes.

More members spew out of the clubhouse like ants do during a colony-drenching downpour, some of them in shock, or coughing up the smoke still trapped in their lungs. Thank fuck that Tate had the presence of mind to nominate some new prospect as Acting Emergency Warden a few months ago. The new guy’s taking his position seriously. He’s wearing a bright orange and yellow safety vest, directing people to exit calmly and steer clear of the building debris by gathering a hundred feet away. I make a mental note to find out the kid’s name and commend him on a job well done when this is all over.

“Jesus fuck!” someone shouts behind me.

I turned around as Cole rushes over to me. The big, sentimental son of a bitch doesn’t give me time to brace for impact when he pulls me in for a tight hug. He turns, looking up at the building with one arm still on my shoulder. “Shit, I didn’t realize the blast hit us so hard. Motherfuckers will pay for this.”

“They fucking will, brother. They’ll get what’s due, and we’ll rebuild. Did anyone take a head count of injuries?”

“A few minor scrapes, some burns, and one guy in the wrong place at the wrong time with a broken leg. No one was hurt bad enough to meet the reaper, so we’re good. A couple of the sack demons are nurses or close to it. They’re checking everyone out to see who needs medical attention.”

“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.”