Chapter 20
TWENTY
DAGGER
I wake up to a loud crash outside, the kind of sound that instantly yanks you out of sleep and sets your pulse racing. My eyes snap open, and I’m sitting up before I’ve fully processed what’s happening, my hand already reaching for the gun on the nightstand.
The weight of the metal in my palm is grounding, familiar. My eyes flick to Chloe, who’s still lying in bed, looking at me with wide, questioning eyes. She doesn’t say anything, just watches as I move, her body tense.
“Stay here,” I say quietly, my voice firm but calm. She nods, but I don’t miss the way her hands grip the blanket tightly.
Moving silently, I head toward the window, scanning the yard for movement. It’s quiet, but not in a good way. My gut tells me to check it out, so I slip out the door, my steps deliberate as I follow the sound toward the side of the house.
When I round the corner, I spot the culprit immediately: a small, scruffy puppy with dirty, matted fur, halfway buried in the spilled contents of a trashcan he must’ve knocked over. He freezes when he sees me, his big, wide eyes staring at me like he knows he’s been caught. His tail wags once, tentatively, like he’s testing the waters.
I lower the gun with a muttered curse, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Of course. A damn puppy.”
The little guy doesn’t run, just sits there wagging his tail now like he’s trying to charm his way out of trouble. He’s filthy—his fur’s a mess, and he looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. Sighing, I crouch down, and he tilts his head, giving me the most pitiful look I’ve ever seen. Damn it.
“Come here,” I mutter, holding out a hand. He steps forward hesitantly, sniffing my fingers before pressing his wet nose against my palm. Scooping him up, I realize just how light he is. His paws are huge, though—this little guy’s going to grow into a monster.
I’m heading back toward the house when the door creaks open, and Chloe’s head pokes out. She glances at me, then freezes when she notices what I’m holding.
“I thought I told you to stay put,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her.
She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my tone. “And I thought I’d check on you since I heard nothing but silence,” she shoots back. Then her gaze drops to the squirming bundle in my arms, and her expression softens in an instant. “What’s that?”
“Trouble,” I say flatly, holding the puppy up slightly for her to see. “Found him knocking over the trash.”
Chloe steps out onto the porch, her bare feet padding softly on the wood. Her eyes light up when she gets a better look, and she practically melts on the spot. “Oh my God,” she whispers, reaching for him. “Look at him. He’s gorgeous.”
The puppy, as if understanding she’s on his side, wriggles excitedly and licks her hand when she takes him from me. She cradles him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, cooing softly as he snuggles against her chest.
“He’s filthy,” I point out, though my voice lacks any real bite. “And he’s gonna be huge. You sure you want to take this on?”
Chloe glances up at me, her brow furrowed. “Dagger, he’s a puppy. He’s starving and scared. What do you expect me to do, just leave him out here?”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “No, I guess not. But we’ve got enough going on without a dog in the mix.”
Her lips twitch, and I know I’ve already lost this argument. “He found us for a reason,” she says simply, her voice quiet but certain.
I watch her for a moment, the way she gently strokes the pup’s dirty fur, and I can feel the tension in my chest loosen just a bit. She’s not wrong—this little mutt stumbled onto our doorstep for a reason, whether I like it or not.
“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “But he’s your responsibility.”
Her grin is soft but victorious, and she kisses the top of the puppy’s head. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ve got this.”
The puppy yips in agreement, his tail wagging furiously, and I can’t help the faint smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. Maybe this is exactly what we need right now.
Chloe doesn’t hesitate for a second. The moment we’re inside, she grabs a bowl, fills it with water, and sets it down on the kitchen floor. The puppy lunges for it like it’s the first water he’s had in days, lapping it up so quickly I’m worried he’s going to choke.
“Looks like someone’s thirsty,” Chloe says with a soft laugh, already pulling open the fridge. She digs out some leftover chicken and rice and sets it down beside the water. The little guy doesn’t even stop to think, diving into the food with the same desperation.
I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching her. “You’ve done this before.”
She glances up at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “What can I say? I’ve got a soft spot for strays.” Then she sinks to the floor, cross-legged next to the puppy, laughing as he makes an absolute disaster of the food and water. Bits of rice and chicken scatter everywhere, water splashes all over the floor, and the pup looks up at her between bites with big, grateful eyes, his tail wagging furiously.
It’s not lost on me how happy she looks, how natural this feels for her. Like taking in a scruffy mutt and making him feel safe is just what she does.
Once the pup has cleaned the plate, licking it spotless, I clear my throat. “We need to get him to a vet,” I say, my tone firm but not harsh. “Make sure he doesn’t have any diseases or anything. That wouldn’t be good for you or the baby.”
Chloe’s smile falters for a moment, just long enough for her to nod seriously. “Good call. I’ll make that happen. But first...” She looks at the pup, now sitting at her feet with his head tilted like he knows he’s the center of attention. “He needs a bath. And a name.”
She tilts her head up at me, her brows raised in question. “What should we call him?”
The word—“we”—hits me harder than I expect. After what we shared a couple of hours ago, I hope she knows we are definitely a we . There’s no going back now.
I crouch down, taking a better look at the scruffy little guy. His fur is a mess, his paws are massive, and there’s something wild and untamed about him—like he’s meant to grow into something powerful. Something unstoppable.
“How about Beast?” I suggest. “Because he’s gonna live up to it when he grows into those paws.”
Chloe grins, looking back at the puppy. “Beast,” she repeats, testing the name out. “What do you think, Beast?” she asks him softly. The pup barks, his tail wagging so hard his whole body shakes, and Chloe laughs, ruffling his ears. “Beast it is.”
She kisses the top of his dirty head, completely unfazed by the mess he’s making, and I can’t help but shake my head, a grin pulling at my lips.
“All right, up you go, Beasty. It’s bath time,” Chloe coos, lifting the squirming puppy. Beast lets out a tiny yip but doesn’t fight her, his tail wagging so hard he nearly wriggles out of her arms.
I follow her to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe as she gently places him in the tub. He looks ridiculous in the water—tiny compared to the basin, with his oversized paws slipping on the surface. Chloe hums softly as she runs warm water over his fur, her hands careful and soothing.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, already dreading the conversation when I see Mason’s name. I answer, keeping my voice low. “Yeah?”
“Where the hell are you?” Mason snaps without preamble. “I need you back here. Now.”
“There were things I needed to take care of,” I reply evenly, my eyes flicking to Chloe. She’s focused on Beast, laughing as he sneezes into the water and tries to paw at it like it’s offended him.
“Well, if you’re done, get your ass over here and bring Chloe with you!” Mason barks, his tone leaving no room for argument, and then he hangs up.
Typical Mason. I slip the phone back into my pocket, shaking my head before stepping into the bathroom. Chloe looks up at me, her expression curious.
“Baby, we need to get moving,” I say, crossing my arms. “Mason’s losing it.”
She raises an eyebrow as she rinses Beast, who’s wagging his tail so hard the water is sloshing everywhere. “Already? I thought we’d at least have time to finish cleaning this guy up.”
“Apparently not,” I say with a smirk. “The clubhouse is locked down, and Mason wants us there yesterday.”
She rolls her eyes, wrapping Beast in a towel and pulling him out of the tub. “I know we’re on lockdown; you told me before our nap. But I’m not going unless Beast can come too.”
I blink at her, my mouth opening to argue, but she fixes me with that look—the one that means she’s already made up her mind. I let out an exaggerated sigh and roll my eyes. “Fine. But if he eats anyone’s boots, that’s on you.”
She grins, scratching Beast behind the ears as he nuzzles into her chest. “Good. He’s family now.”
I mutter something under my breath about how quickly this little mutt has taken over, but the truth is, I can’t even pretend to be annoyed. Watching her with Beast—seeing her smile like that—it makes the tension in my chest ease, even if it’s just for a second.
“Go finish with him,” I say, heading for the bedroom. “I’ll pack you a bag. Anything specific?”
“Just don’t forget my shampoo,” she teases, flashing me a grin.
I shake my head as I walk away. This woman is impossible—and somehow, I wouldn’t have it any other way. But Mason’s tone lingers in the back of my mind, a reminder that whatever we’re walking into, it’s bound to be trouble. And now, it’s not just Chloe and the baby I need to protect—it’s that scrappy little mutt she’s decided is ours.
I grab a bag from the closet and toss it onto the bed, running a hand through my hair as I start packing. I grab a couple of her shirts, some jeans, and a hoodie, folding them quickly and stuffing them in. But my mind isn’t on the task. It keeps drifting back to Chloe in the bathroom with Beast.
The way she handled him—it wasn’t just sweet. It was natural, like she’s done it a hundred times before. The way she talked to him, reassured him, laughed when he splashed water everywhere and made a total mess. She didn’t even flinch, didn’t hesitate. She just focused on making him feel safe, like it was second nature.
I toss another pair of pants into the bag, pausing for a second. Watching her like that hit me harder than I thought it would. She’s going to be a great mom. I’ve thought it before, but seeing her with that scrappy little mutt—seeing her so patient, so nurturing—it just drove it home.
Chloe has this way of making things feel steady, even when they’re a complete disaster. It’s not just that she takes care of people—or dogs, apparently—it’s that she does it without hesitation, without asking for anything in return. It’s instinct for her, like she doesn’t even think about it. And when I think about her being like that with the baby… it’s overwhelming in a way I can’t explain.
I grab her sneakers and stuff them in the bag, then head to the bathroom to grab her shampoo and whatever else I think she might need. As I toss a toothbrush in, my mind flickers back to the world we’re about to step into. This isn’t exactly the ideal environment to raise a kid. Hell, it’s barely a place for a dog. But Chloe doesn’t waver, doesn’t let fear show. And if she can do that, then I damn well will, too.
When the bag’s packed, I sling it over my shoulder and head back toward the bathroom. I can hear her laughing softly, the sound of Beast’s paws skittering on the tile as he shakes off more water.
“Ready?” I call out, leaning against the doorframe.
Chloe looks up, holding Beast wrapped in a towel. He’s still damp but clearly happy, his tail wagging nonstop. “Almost,” she says, smiling. “He’s mostly dry. I think.”
I nod, watching her press a kiss to the top of Beast’s head. She glances at me, her smile faltering just slightly when she sees my expression. “What?” she asks, tilting her head.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking it off. “We’ll keep him safe.”
She gives me a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, we will.”
I glance at the pup, who’s wiggling in her arms like he knows he’s part of something now. And as much as the weight of everything ahead presses on me, I feel something else, too—something lighter.
She’s going to be an amazing mom. And no matter what’s waiting for us, I’ll make damn sure nothing takes that chance away from her.
As I guide Chloe into the clubhouse, she scans the room, her eyes darting over the groups of brothers scattered around. The tension is thick—everyone’s either pacing, talking in low voices, or bracing themselves for whatever’s coming. It’s not the kind of place anyone would call welcoming right now, but she doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, she looks more curious than anxious.
Then her gaze lands on Jenny, Carlie, and Sophie in the kitchen, and her face softens. The three of them are leaning against the counter, deep in conversation, but they look up when Chloe starts heading their way.
“I’ll be over there,” she says, tilting her head toward them. She adjusts Beast in her arms, who wriggles a little before settling again.
“Go ahead,” I say, watching her as she walks off. The puppy whines softly, but Chloe murmurs something to him, her voice soothing.
Jenny spots her first, her eyes lighting up when she sees Beast. “Oh my God, what is that?” she squeals, abandoning her drink and rushing over.
“It’s a puppy, Jenny,” Sophie says dryly, though she’s grinning as she joins her. “Obviously.”
Chloe laughs, holding Beast out for them to see. “His name’s Beast.”
Jenny gasps dramatically. “He’s adorable!” She reaches out, scratching behind Beast’s ears, and he responds by wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.
“Where’d you pick up this little guy?” Carlie asks, running a hand over his damp fur.
Chloe shrugs, smiling. “He found us, I guess. Knocked over the trash, and the rest is history.”
I lean against the wall, watching the scene unfold. The girls are all over the pup, cooing at him like he’s the best thing to walk through the door in weeks. Chloe laughs, looking more relaxed than she has since we left the house.
Good. They all need the distraction.
Beast laps up the attention, his tiny tail a blur as the girls fuss over him. For a moment, the tension in the clubhouse feels lighter, like the storm brewing outside has been pushed back, even if just for a second.
I take a deep breath and push off the wall, heading toward Mason. Whatever’s coming, we’ll face it. But at least for now, Chloe, Jenny, Carlie, Sophie—and even Beast—have found a pocket of normal in the chaos. And that’s more than I could’ve asked for.
As I make my way toward Mason, his sharp gaze lands on me, but then it drops slightly behind me. His expression shifts into something between disbelief and annoyance.
“Is that a fucking dog ?” he asks, his tone sharp.
I shrug casually, glancing back toward the kitchen where Chloe, Jenny, and Sophie are still fawning over Beast. “Yeah, I think it is.”
Mason’s brow furrows, and he narrows his eyes. “Alright, smartass,” he mutters. “You know what I meant.”
I smirk but don’t bother with a response. Instead, I step closer, dropping my voice so only he can hear. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
He gives me a hard look, his jaw working before he speaks. “They hit the docks,” he says flatly.
The words hit me like a gut punch. The docks are how we keep the operation running, our lifeline for getting the guns into the country without heat. I clench my fists, but Mason doesn’t give me time to process.
“And it doesn’t stop there,” he continues, his voice lowering. “They hit the cargo area too. Cleaned out a good chunk of the merchandise. They’re pissed and trying to shut us down completely.”
“Shit,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck as I glance around the room. Everyone looks tense, the whole place humming with barely restrained anger.
“If we’re not careful, we’re going to need backup—and fast,” Mason warns, his tone hard. “This isn’t a game anymore. They’re escalating.”
“Who’s behind it?” I ask, though I already have a damn good idea.
Mason’s scowl deepens. “The Russians. Same crew you tangled with. They’re not just sending a message anymore—they’re looking to bury us.”
I glance over my shoulder, my gaze flicking to Chloe. She’s laughing with Jenny and Sophie, holding Beast like he’s the safest thing in the world. She doesn’t have a clue how close this could get to her.
Mason follows my gaze, his expression tightening. “All the old ladies need to stay in the club,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No exceptions. We’re locking it down completely.”
I nod, already knowing he’s right. “She’ll stay,” I say. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Mason steps closer, his voice dropping to a near growl. “And keep her close, Dagger. If the Russians find out about her—about the baby—”
“They won’t,” I cut him off, my voice firm. “I’m not letting anything happen to her.”
He studies me for a moment before nodding. “Good. Then let’s get to work. We need to make sure this doesn’t go any further—or we’re all screwed.”
I glance back toward Chloe one last time. She catches my eye and gives me a soft smile, completely unaware of the storm we’re standing in. For her and the baby, I’ll make damn sure Mason’s right—we won’t let it go further.