Sometimes.
Jack could read me when I was high, when I was drunk, my eyes gave away my pain, they gave away the torment but no one knew what to make of me when I was straight because I rarely ever was. But now? I was straight as a pin, aside, from the hangover and the two shots of whiskey I just downed.
Go on and try Bulldog.
You won’t get me this time.
I promise.
I turned my head, keeping the secret of where I was and who I was with to myself.
“I came here afterwards,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets before turning back to him. “What the fuck does that matter, anyway?”
“Because you had Reina in the fucking car with you and just like you could’ve been killed, she could’ve been too,” he shouted. “Now one more time, did you go anywhere after you dropped her off?”
“You really want to go there? Because she took my fucking car and went to your house last night so who’s to say your girl didn’t plant the motherfucking bomb or set it up so whoever planted it had a chance to?” I hollered.
Deflect, man.
Turn the fucking tables.
“Whoa, hold up,” Bianci intervened. “What if that was the plan?” He questioned, narrowing his eyes as he worked the scenario in his head before he diverted his gaze back to mine. “Reina took Blackie’s car, went to your house?” Jack nodded in agreement. “Jimmy have any idea Reina exists in your life?”
Jack turned his attention back toward me.
“What happened when he came here yesterday?”
“I made her drop to her fucking knees and pretend to give me head,” I seethed, shrugging my shoulders as if it was no big fucking deal.
“Mother of God,” Grace exclaimed, closing her eyes in disgust.
Right lady, because your mob boss husband was a saint. He probably had three side pieces she didn’t even know about.
I rolled my eyes and looked back at Jack. “Made it so Jimmy thought she was just a piece of pussy nobody cared about then I dismissed her.”
“What if he wants you to think she’s the one setting you up?” Bianci asked.
“We could sit here and play the guessing game all day long but until that motherfucker makes another move all we’re doing is running in circles,” I ground out.
A gunshot fired, smoke puffed from the barrel of the gun Wolf pointed it toward the ceiling. “About out of patience, Prez, so you might want to start fucking talking to the rest of us,” he said, eerily calm.
The jig was up. The club wanted answers. I didn’t blame them.
“I’ll give you your answers,” Jack bit out. “But right now I’m putting this club on lockdown,” he declared, glancing around the room. “Go get your families, anyone you give a damn about and bring them here,” he ordered, turning to Bianci. “That includes you, go get your wife and son,” pointing toward Grace he continued, “And get her other daughter too,” he instructed before turning back to us. “I repeat—anyone you give a damn about.”
I watched as he grabbed his helmet off the bar and started for the door. “Church in an hour,” he called over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?” I called as he opened the door and I followed him before he even uttered his answer.
“To get Reina and Lacey,” he replied.
“You go get Reina, I’ll get Lacey,” I countered, falling into step beside him.
He raised an eyebrow, questioning me and I forced out a sigh in response.
“We going to sit here and argue about this or we going to get the women in your life to safety? Because I tell you brother, something happens to either of them on your watch, you ain’t going to be able to deal with that. Trust me, that shit will be the death of you,” I said.
And fuck, I wasn’t going to sit back and let anything happen to Lace.
I slipped my arms into my cut, checked to see if my gun was loaded before shoving it into the back of my jeans. My eyes met Jack’s, and I swallowed roughly.
“I got your girl,” I assured him.
I got my Lace.
I didn’t wait for him to agree or disagree. I would get her to safety, and no one would stand in my way.
Not Jimmy Gold.
Not even Jack Parrish.
“Thank you,” he said as we straddled our bikes, revved our engines, and kicked our bikes into gear.
No thanks necessary.
I might not be able to save her from myself but I damn well could go on protecting her like I always did.
Like she was my Lace.
Chapter Six
“Lacey! Blackie is here,” my mother called as I finished applying my lipstick, giving myself a final once over in the mirror. My eyes were heavily lined with black liner and I had three coats of mascara on, making my dark eyes look bigger and almost black.
Very dramatic for a fifteen-year-old.
Just the look I was going for.
I stared back at the image reflected in the mirror, a smug smile formed across my mouth. Fifteen, my ass. With all this make-up I could easily pass for twenty, hell, I’d take eighteen, barely legal but still of age.
“Lacey!”