“They do, but better the enemy you know.” She sat up straight and let out a slow breath. “I think Marcus just wants to use you as bait to get Mason to stick around the club long enough to help Lucas take out Jayson. He gives you to Jayson, distracts him, then helps Lucas sweep in and take over.”
“What about those Mexican people?” My decision to stay the hell away from club business had been a good one, too much drama.
“Bernardo’s dead. I heard Tick and Mason talking the other morning. His brother took over down there, and is coming up here to get the Disciples and Reapers to merge, or kill one off, doesn’t matter to him. He just wants one club to deal with, Tick said. Whoever survives the next few days wins.” She rolled her eyes. “When Tick told me about leaving the club, getting away from all the MC shit, at first I wasn’t sure. It’s the only life I’ve ever known. They are like my family. But you know, settling down in a normal house, in a normal town, with a normal husband, sounds fucking great right now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
MASON
Marcus didn’t leave his apartment all night. No one went in, and no one came out. Even while the members partied it up in the lounge, he never showed his face. If he had some big plan on how to accomplish his little task, he wasn’t sharing it with the rest of us.
A little after dawn, I headed back to my room, fully expecting to see Tick’s ass snoring away. I didn’t expect to find him pacing up and down my room, wearing out the carpet.
“What’s crawled up your ass?” I asked, shutting the door. Moans from the next room over came through the walls. Remembering the last time I had my hands on Lucy came to mind. Only a few days past, but still too fucking many. “What’s wrong?” I said again with more grit. I was fucking tired from staring at Marcus’s door all night, and I wasn’t in the mood for more cryptic shit. Not even from Tick.
“Massy called.” He stopped pacing and glared at me. Not his usual ugly mug. No, he looked ready to rip someone to shreds. “There was trouble up at the cottage yesterday. The girls are headed back this way. Should be here within a few hours.”
“What?” I dug out my phone. Nothing. “Lucy didn’t call me.”
“She was too busy trying to bury Sting!” he practically yelled.
I wiped my hands over my eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about? Start at the beginning, dammit.”
“Massy was showing Lucy how to handle a gun—”
“Wait. What?” I had to be hearing shit.
“You heard me, don’t get sidetracked on that, just fucking listen. She took her into the woods for target practice. On the first shot, she bagged herself a Disciple.” The fucker almost sounded proud.
“I swear to god, Tick. I’m ready to rip your fucking head off, what do you mean?”
“Sting was there, found them. When she took her shot, she missed the tree but nailed him right in the stomach. Bled out under a pine tree.”
I sat down. I needed to sit. Lucy shot someone? Picturing her with a gun in her hand put a twist in my stomach. “She killed him?”
“Yeah. Before he croaked, he said Marcus let Jayson know where the girls were. Said Marcus knew she didn’t have family down south.”
I raised my brows at him and he waved me off. “I know. I forgot Marcus’s known her longer than I have. Of course he would know.”
“What the fuck is he playing at? If he wants Lucas to take over for Jayson, why give up Lucy? What does she have to do with anything?”
“I figure she’s his way of controlling you. If Jayson has Lucy, you’d have to help Marcus get Lucas in the chair, and Marcus would help you get Lucy back.”
“He’s insane. I already said I’d help.”
“I don’t know. All I know is that fuck sent a lunatic after my wife. If Lucy hadn’t asked Massy to show her how to shoot, they would have just been in the cottage painting their nails.” He ran his hand over his smooth head, back and forth, back and forth, letting loose a deep growl. I knew what he was feeling. Pent up.
“They are on the road?”
“Should be. I talked with Massy a little bit ago. They found his bike down the road, she's gonna drive them back.”
“How long has it been since Massy’s handled a bike?” I asked, knowing there wasn’t much choice.
“I let her ride my bike now and then.” He looked away from me.
“When you’re drunk,” I scoffed.
“Yeah, well, we don’t live five steps from the bar like you,” he shot at me. “She rode last week. Did fine. They’ll be fine.” He sat on the bed, holding his head with both hands. Someone so confident shouldn’t look so scared.