that’s what Lucy did. She protected our girls when we couldn’t
Rav glares at her under his heavy brow. “You and Lily are here.” It’s all he says. It’s all he has to say. Sash and his daughter, Lily-May, are his world and Lucy bringing her shit here has put them in the firing line.
Plus, there’s half a dozen other kids and women holed up in the common room right now. We were hosting our monthly cook out when Lucy came crashing through the gates, meaning the clubhouse is busier than usual. I understand Rav’s fear. There are a lot of innocent lives at stake here that could get hurt in the crossfire.
Sasha seems to deflate at his words. “This isn’t Lucy’s fault.”
He snorts, his disbelief clear in that one sound.
“Where’s Lucy work?” I ask before Sasha can rile at Rav again. I’d rather keep him level.
“West Allied Acquisitions. She’s an account manager.”
I recognise the name, but I don’t know shit about the business itself.
“What do they do?”
“As far as I know they buy up failing businesses. Lucy doesn’t talk much about work.”
“Maybe the shooter was a disgruntled CEO,” I suggest. I’ve known people to go off the deep end for less.
“It’s never happened before.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” I point out. Sasha concedes this with a nod. “How long has she been working there?”
“About two years. Before that we both worked in a bar, until I was too pregnant to carry on. Then Lucy got the job there to cover our bills.”
Rav growls at that information, no doubt pissed Sasha had to work in some shitty bar to take care of herself. That would never have happened if she’d stayed. Fuck, no matter what Rav thinks of Lucy right now, he can’t deny what the woman has done for his girls.
“Did she ever mention anything strange at work?” Rav demands, tearing the tie from his dark hair, his patience running low.
“No.”
“Anything like this ever happened before?”
Sash’s eyes flare at his accusing tone. The women are tight, so it’s not surprising his questions are pissing her off.
“No! She’s not the enemy, Ty! If Lucy says she doesn’t know shit, then she doesn’t. It could be a case of mistaken identity, wrong place, wrong time—anything!”
Rav’s eyes meet mine and I see the unspoken words—something stinks—as he rakes his fingers through his hair.
He’s right. It’s very rare a hit would be carried out like this on the wrong person. We need to find out who her boss is. Even if Lucy doesn’t know these men, they now know her.
“Get a perimeter set up,” Rav says. “Church in ten minutes.”
Church, despite its name, has nothing to do with religion. It’s what we call our club meetings. There’s no confessional on the planet that could clear us of our sins. Me and my brothers have committed more than our share of atrocities over the years, some of them haunt my nightmares, others have disappeared into the deepest vaults of my mind.
I organise the perimeter security with Fury, the club’s Sergeant-at-Arms, before heading to the chapel, my brain a hive of activity. I can’t wrap my head around what the fuck her boss is into that warranted his head getting blown off. What the fuck dirty dealings could he be doing in acquisitions?
I sink into my seat at the table on Rav’s right hand side, feeling a surge of irritation roll through me as I drum my fingers on the tabletop. She tried to hide it, but I could see the fear in Lucy’s eyes. I didn’t like seeing it.
Fury takes the seat on the left side of the table, flicking his knife in his hand as he does. There’s tension in the movement, and I raise my eyes to the brother, wondering where the fuck his head is at, wondering where all my brothers’ heads are at. There would usually be jostling, banter as the lads get settled around the table, but there’s no fucking around today. There’s an edge to the men that seems to hang heavily in the air. I understand it. It’s not every day we have a woman crash through our gates covered in blood.
“You move that cage?” Rav asks Titch, who nods.
“Hector dragged it out and stashed it in the garage.”
Hector is our head mechanic and has run the club’s garage for the past two and a half years. He’s not club, but working on the compound, he knows when to shut his mouth and when to step up. Rav