“No fucking way.” Gunner lowered his weapon. “I got him.”
“No, I got him,” Cade said. “Hit him in the leg.”
“That’s just the old injury from when I hit him in the leg.” Dawn glared and then sucked in a sharp breath. “Why are you lowering your weapons? We’re still outnumbered.”
“Not for long.”
As the last word left Cade’s lips, the Brethren dropped their weapons. He turned and smiled at the Sinners pouring through the wrecked wall on either side of the SUV.
His brothers.
His club.
And … What the fuck? Benson?
Talk about ruining the moment.
“Dawn!” Benson stared at Dawn aghast as he walked over the rubble. “What are you doing with that … weapon?”
“Shooting people.” One hand on her hip, she held up her gun. Cade snorted a laugh. Damn, she was a sight in that tight red dress, dirty and torn, her hair tangled, scratches and bruises on her arms and legs. But with that weapon in her hand and the triumphant smile on her face she was beyond beautiful to him.
“Actually she was shooting toes, not people, but she did a good job. She’s better at shooting toes than tires.” He looked over at Benson and lifted an eyebrow. “We got business together, Benson. A little matter of locking me up in jail and trying to steal my girl. You got anyone you want to call before you die?”
Benson’s mouth tightened. “Your girl.”
“Mine.”
Benson’s gaze swept over Dawn, lingering, and then his shoulders slumped. “She’s definitely a Sinner.”
Dawn put her arm around Cade and leaned her head against his chest. “Cade’s Sinner. I am sorry, Doug, but this is where I want to be.”
“I wanted so badly to save you,” Benson said wistfully. “My sister was taken by a biker gang when she was fourteen. We never got her back. I joined the police thinking I would make a difference and something like that would never happen on my watch. I think I lost perspective, and I might have gotten a little carried away.”
“You went to fucking crazy town and back.” Cade shoved his weapon in its holster. “Even coming out here alone … all kinds of stupid. You always gotta have someone at your back.”
“I get it. I’m sorry, Dawn. I won’t bother you or the Sinners again.” He turned to go and Cade gestured to Tank to cut off Benson’s retreat.
“You don’t get off that easy. Locking up a Sinner is serious offense, but ’cause you were looking out for my girl, I’ll give you a choice. I beat the shit out of you, break your fucking arms and legs, and dump you in a ditch outside of town, or you can be the Sinners’ eyes and ears inside the police station. Sheriff Morton did a fine job for us, and was paid well for his trouble until he got greedy, so now there’s a vacancy that needs to be filled.”
Benson shrugged. “It’s not really a choice, is it?”
“You always have a choice.”
“He’s being nice to you.” Dawn’s lips tugged at the corners. “He would usually smash your vehicle, too.”
“And burn down his house.” Cade brushed his lips over her forehead. “But I got my girl so I’m in a good mood.”
“I kinda like my vehicle,” Benson said. “And my arms and legs. You’ve got yourself a mole.”
*
“I got the girls.” Cade pulled Dawn against his side after Tank and T-Rex escorted Benson back to his police car. “They’re safe at the clubhouse.”
Dawn exhaled a relieved breath and leaned against SUV. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how worried I was about them. But the clubhouse? Two little girls? Really?”
“Dax is with them.”
“Dax? The torturer?”
“He’s got his own kids. He knows how to have a good time.”
“I’m sure he does.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Probably dissecting frogs and shooting at squirrels.”
Cade growled low in his throat. “Made me hot watchin’ you shoot Mad Dog from under the SUV.”
“Everything makes you hot. You’d probably have me naked and over the hood of the vehicle if I’d done more than shoot him in the toe.” She had been bitterly disappointed after Zane checked Jimmy’s wounds and pronounced Old Mick the winner of the shoot-out.
“I think you should put down that gun and we’ll let the boys finish doin’ what they’re doin’ with the Brethren and I’ll show you just how hot your toe shooting made me.”
Dawn glanced over at Old Mick and Jagger, deep in conversation while Doc Hegel tended to Old Mick’s wound. Around them, Sinners kept watch on the disarmed Brethren, while others searched the clubhouse, and still more guarded the doors.
“I think they aren’t going to be doing anything to the remaining Brethren other than taking their weapons and offering them a choice of patch-over or death,” she said. “Mad Dog’s supporters are already gone. The usual rats fleeing a sinking ship.”