Page 83 of Penn

Pacino steps forward, braces the weight against the shoulder, and aims. He doesn’t hesitate as he sets his sights on the propane tank next to the tent.

The blast is a physical force, and the launcher kicks back. A split second later, the grenade hits its target with a blinding flash of orange. The roar is deafening, and I feel the explosion from as far away as we are, using the shield to keep anything blowing our way from hitting me. Any debris will likely be on fire, and who knows what kind of chemicals are involved.

“They didn’t even have time to scream,” Rooster mutters as he peeks over his shield. Everyone moving like ants is either gone or lying dead on the sand.

The fireball rolls upward as the various chemical containers catch fire. A thick column of black smoke takes over, and it begins wafting in our direction, but it’s the heat that bothers me most. It’s worse than being out here in the middle of the day when it hits over a hundred and twenty.

“We gotta go,” Jethro says after pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the blaze. “Now.”

No one hesitates, and we hop onto the ATVs, riding away with our gas masks still in place. Who knows what’s dissipated into the air by now.

We ride for at least twenty minutes before stopping, and I rip the mask off my head to breathe in real air. As grateful as I am for the protection, I fucking hate wearing anything on my face like that.

Jethro sends a text, his thumbs moving quickly across the screen, a smile spreading along his lips. When I look at Pacino, he doesn’t seem to notice and unscrews the weapon to tie it back up behind him.

“What’re you doing?” I ask.

“We took a vote while you were with Dixie,” he says.

That doesn’t sound good. “About what?”

“About letting Butch know Stephen outed him. As far as he’ll be concerned, his hired middleman isn’t just stealing profits from him, but he ruined millions in profits tonight.”

“So much for letting him suffer until he solves the problem for us, huh?” I ask.

Not that I’m really upset. I just wish I could be the one to end him.

“Oh, he’s suffering. Can you imagine the pure fear running through him when he gets a message from Butch letting him know he’s fucking dead?” Kannon asks. “He’ll probably piss himself.”

That would be quite the sight, and I smile to myself. How I wish I could see that myself.

My phone vibrates, and I see Hendrix’s name on the screen. “Hendrix? What’s wrong? Is Dixie okay?” I ask.

I wanted to leave more than one man with Dixie and Misty, but the guys assured me they’d be fine. But a call from Hendrix tells me she’s not fine. She’s not fine at all.

“You gotta get to the hospital,” Hendrix says, his voice edging on panic. “Now.”

“What happened? Is she hurt?”

“No, idiot, she’s in fucking labor,” he says, breathing hard. “I was assigned to protect her, not hear her cries as contractions hit and see her water break. Which is really fucking gross.”

My eyes widen as the guys all stare at me, waiting.

“I’m on my way,” I say. “Do not let her out of your sight, Hendrix. You keep her safe until I get there.”

“Safety, I can provide. Being emotionally supportive as she pushes a jack-o-lantern out of her hoo-hah is not.”

I shove my phone back into my pocket, my hands shaking lightly as I grip the handlebars. She’s in labor. The baby’s on his way.

“What’s wrong?” Zep asks. “Is she okay?”

“She’s in labor,” I say, the smile growing on my face. “My boy’s on the way.”

I kick the ATV into gear, twisting the throttle until the engine screams, and tear toward the highway where our bikes and truck are parked. There’s only one place I need to be, and I gotta get there quickly.

Chapter 32

Dixie