Not used to being questioned, Steer glares at me before answering. “Said he heard something and went to check on it.”

I send Hustler back to the others and motion for Steer to follow us inside.

Before touching anything, I slip on my black leather gloves. The cheap screen door creaks as I pull it open. This place really is a dump.

The stench of gasoline sears my nostrils when we step inside.

It takes a second to locate Shadow’s crumpled form in a heap on the floor. Steer rushes over and helps him up.

“You all right, brother?” I ask.

He rubs the back of his head. “Two guys jumped me.”

“You should’ve stayed put.” I jerk my head toward the door. “Get him outside.”

“No way, Prez,” Shadow reaches out, grabbing at my cut. “I ain’t leaving until I get the motherfucker who whacked me.”

Murphy creeps toward the door leading into the main part of the bowling alley. “How many?” he asks Shadow.

“Don’t know. Two? Three?”

Teller eases over to where we found Shadow, crouching down to examine the spot. To our left, there’s a whoosh and roar.

Suddenly, that gasoline scent takes on a whole different level of importance.

“Get him out of here!” I slap Steer on the back and he pulls Shadow to the door.

Flames climb the wall to my left and spread out over the ceiling. My gaze lands on a stack of red gas cans bundled together in the corner like a do-it-yourself nuke.

“The building’s gonna blow.” I wrap my hand around Murphy’s bicep and yank him toward the open door. “Teller. Move it. Now!”

Confident they’re both behind me, I haul ass out the door and keep on going. Murphy’s arm brushes against mine and I turn slightly, surprised Teller isn’t right next to him. “Teller?”

“He’s coming.”

Something a lot louder than the crackling flames whizzes by.

“Who’s shooting?” I shout, pulling my own piece. If one of my guys started flinging bullets, I swear to fuck, I’ll shoot ‘em myself.

Murphy whips around. “Shit!”

My gaze flies in the direction he’s pointed and we’re both pounding over the grass before I process the scene in front of me.

More bullets soar over us and I crouch low, firing in the direction I think they’re coming from.

“Jesus.” Murphy drops down, sliding over the grass on his knees to get to Teller’s side. “T, you all right?”

Teller groans and pushes himself up with one arm. “I’m alive.” He cranes his neck. “But I fucked up my bad leg.”

“Come on.” Murphy wraps one arm around Teller while I keep an eye on the space behind them.

“Fuck,” Murphy groans. “How can your scrawny ass be so heavy?”