“Ruby’s ex wants his daughter back, and he’s got his men coming to get her. He’s not too pleased that we turned his house into Swiss cheese, and he’s probably pretty ticked off that we got his son now, too, and took down a few of his men in the process. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, and I don’t know how many men he’s got coming out here. All I know is that shit is not safe. If I had the manpower to cover you, I’d send you and Chey down south to stay until it all gets sorted out, but I don’t. So I need you to do as you’re told so you don’t put yourself or anyone else in any more danger than you’re already in.”
Like the old hand that she is, my mother agrees and listens intently as I spell it out for her. No going out alone. No answering the door for anyone. No talking to or about anyone involved with this shit over the phone or outside of this house. The list is extensive, and by the time I get to the end, her eyes are glazing over. It’s not like we haven’t been through this before. It’s just that this time it’s not some petty beef about territory and clientele. This time it’s about revenge and family loyalty—two things that will always stir up dust in ways that nothing else can.
A floorboard creaks from the hallway. In a split second, I have my gun out and pointed at the noise. My mother moves behind me and curls into my back. There’s another creak and then an earth-shattering scream. Shit. Holly.
With everything going on, I’d totally forgotten that Holly would be in the house. I move in to find her sliding down the wall in the hallway. Her hands are up in front of her, waving me away. They shake just slightly in their movements. The sliding glass door rolls open and slams against the stopper, creating another commotion. From my side, Jeremy rushes into the room with a gun I didn’t know he had pointing out in front of him. With his other hand, he’s holding Chey behind him, blocking her. He’s shielding my little girl, and while his head is still on the chopping block, I think I’ll let him live for now.
“It’s okay,” my mother says, raising her hands to Jeremy and Chey. “We just scared Holly, that’s all.” Baby Boy lowers his gun and places it in the waistband of his jeans. Fucking kid didn’t even put the safety on first. Either that or he didn’t unlock the safety before he stormed in here.
“Who the fuck gave you a gun?” I ask. When we let Jeremy prospect at seventeen, he didn’t know how to drive a car, much less ride a Harley. He’s also still in high school—for now—and has zero experience handling a gun. The day he received his vest, he also received one of my old bikes to learn on. He’s been riding for a few months now and is getting pretty good at it. Still, we agreed no guns until after he turned eighteen.
“Trigger,” he says. I should have fucking known. Ryan got the name Trigger because back when he was learning to shoot, he’d shoot anything that moved. Unfortunately for his grandfather, Rage—a retired club member—Ryan’s first real shot was at the old man’s foot.
I motion for him to hand me the gun then check the safety. Sure enough, the safety isn’t on. I click it on and shake my head. “You’re gonna blow your fucking dick off.” I cast Chey a quick look to see that her eyes are on Jeremy. She’s got this look on her face like she thinks he just saved Tokyo from Godzilla or some other fucking amazing thing like that. I turn the safety back off and hand the gun over. “On second thought, go ahead and blow it off.”
When I turn back around, Holly is standing and rubbing her eyes. She looks from me to my mother to Jeremy and Cheyenne and then back to me. “I can’t handle having one more person pointing a gun at me today,” she says and blows out a shaky breath.
“What do you mean,” Chey asks. “Did that man at school have a gun?” Her voice rises with every word, and she’s growing panicked as the seconds pass. I don’t like to lie to my kid, but I can’t bring myself to tell her that all mobsters carry guns. The world hasn’t jaded her yet. She stills sees the good in people, and I don’t want to take that away from her. The rest of the world will do that for me soon enough. I don’t miss the sly admission from Holly though. She didn’t tell me the bastard pulled a gun on her earlier. We’ll have to talk about that, just not where Chey can hear.
Chapter 14
Grady
ALL IT TAKES is my mother saying the words ice cream and Chey is wondering off to the kitchen. I don’t miss the way she bites her lip and bats her eyes at Jeremy when she asks him if he wants any. And I definitely don’t fucking miss the way he says he’d like some of her ice cream. That prick isn’t eating anything of hers. He’s eating my ice cream. I don’t remind him whose house he’s in only because of the look my mother is giving me. I already know my protectiveness over Chey is, apparently, a little unhealthy. And I’ll work on that one day. Just not today.