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“Who are you?” I asked calmly, not moving, but calculating the distance I was from the hall, where I would be covered for hopefully long enough to run into the bedroom, lock the door and retrieve a gun of my own.
It was a risky move, and her finger was on the trigger of the gun, meaning she was not here to fuck around. She could be a crappy shot. Might be clumsy. But I wasn’t going to risk making my kids orphans on coulds and mights.
It was also risky to stay where I was since she could’ve just shot me and been done with it. But she was the woman who had been fucking with me. I knew it. She wasn’t going to shoot me now. Why go to all that trouble to torture me for a quick kill?
“I’m the Old Lady of the man your husband fucking killed!” she snapped, spittle flying from her mouth. Her eyes were wide, her movements jerky. She was either high or just insane. Both equally dangerous when combined with a gun.
If I could get the gun off her, I had a good chance. She was skinny, weak looking. Ranger had trained me in fighting, self-defense. We’d sparred at the gym once a week right up until he died.
Plus there was the fact I had a whole lot to fight for. But you couldn’t discount the crazy biker bitch with a gun.
“My husband is dead,” I told her flatly.
“Don’t I fucking know that?” she yelled, shaking the gun at me. “Fucker died before I could even get my revenge. Been planning it for a long time too. Watching you fucks.”
Something unnerved me a lot about that. This woman was not crazy. She was heartbroken. She’d lost someone she loved. She’d let in the ugliness that came with that. Let in the evil, the fury, and she’d decided to lay ruin to the world that had ruined her.
Not only that, she was smart... in there somewhere. She obviously had known about the Sons—I was guessing her husband was part of a rival MC—and knew that going in halfcocked with no plan wasn’t going to serve her. She’d been patient enough to wait. To learn. Her revenge was being served cold.
“Your club is full of fucking pretty boy pussies and their stupid cunt wives. Their kids. My Old Man’s club is still too fucking scared to retaliate. Like they’re full of pimply eighteen-year olds instead of men. No surprise a woman needs to do it all. Surely you know that, being an Old Lady and all.”
Though she was clearly emotional, clearly out of her right mind, she kept her finger on the trigger, keeping the gun pointed squarely at me. If I moved, she’d pull it. I knew that. It might miss me. Might clip me. Might hit me straight in the head.
I thought of the bullet holes in Ranger’s body the night he died.
That couldn’t be both of us.
Our children couldn’t bury two parents full of lead and hate.
“I know that being an Old Lady is accepting the fact your Old Man goes out every day with a goal of staying alive. He also knows that there’s a chance he won’t get to come home that night. That’s the commitment he makes when he puts on a cut. That’s the commitment we make when we stay by their sides,” I said, keeping my eyes on her. I was furious at her for coming into my home, ruining what I’d built.
But I made sure that my fury didn’t leech into my voice. This was not the time to lose it. This bitch wanted to talk. She would’ve shot me otherwise. So I’d keep her talking until my moment came.
“You don’t get to play the victim or the villain here,” I continued. “You think you’re special because your Old Man died? That it gives you the right to take something away from my family, my kids? That’s not going to change shit except you’re gonna be on the run for the rest of your life, which will be short because no matter what you think of my club, they will end you for this.”
“Shut up, bitch!” she screamed, shaking the gun.
“I won’t,” I stated calmly. “Because you know I’m right. You know that if you pull that trigger on me you may as well turn it right on yourself. It’ll be quicker. More humane. The Sons might’ve gone legit, but the second you cross them in a way like this, the law doesn’t mean shit. They’ll rip you apart.”
Her eyes flared with fear at this. She knew I was telling the truth. I didn’t know what club she used to be with, but they probably weren’t on the straight and narrow like the Sons. And they probably didn’t fiercely protect their women like the Sons. They’d hang her out to dry or deliver her personally to the Sons if she did this.
