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“He pulled a gun on us earlier today,” Rooster said. “Threatened Lou.”
“And you’ve been to the cops?” Brewer asked.
I nodded. “A few times. They won’t do anything. He hasn’t hurt me so they have no grounds to arrest him. They said to go home and just…try to be a better wife.”
Rooster glanced sharply at me. “You never told me that.”
“It’s not exactly something I like to dwell on. Besides, your hackles were already up. I didn’t think it was necessary to pour gasoline on that wildfire.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line and took my hand with a fierce squeeze.
“You should know,” Brewer said, “that we can make the problem go away but it won’t be a clean job. Are you prepared to get your hands dirty?”
I glanced up at Rooster. I would gladly go to hell and back again if it meant I could stay by his side.
“I’m all in,” I replied.
The words were barely out of my mouth before the rev of a motorcycle’s engine roared through the air, followed by the crack of gunfire. Bullets tore through the metal siding of Rooster’s Garage.
Someone shouted, “Get down!”
Rooster flung an arm out, shielding me with his body. A split second later, I hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. I wheezed, fighting to take a breath. More bullets whizzed through the air over our heads, striking the pavement, pinging as they ricocheted through the auto shop.
Pain flared in my ribs, blinding, white-hot pain that made it feel like every rattling breath I took was fire in my throat.
Rooster. Was he hurt?
On the heels of that thought, the cold certainty that this was Jed’s handiwork rocketed through me.
You’re going to pay for that, bitch.
The bullets stopped. An engine revved in the distance. Muffled, distant voices called to each other and I realized it was Rooster’s club, checking to make sure everyone was alive.
“Was anyone hit?”
“I’m okay!”
“A bit bruised. I’m getting too old for this shit.”
I wanted to call out to Rooster but my throat was dry, my head pounding. Pain still pulsed through my body. The sun, hanging low on the horizon, blazed into my face, blinding me. When I moved my hand, a flash of red caught my eye and I froze.
Blood.
It soaked my fingertips, smeared my palm. Was it Rooster’s? Had he been shot because of me?
Darkness blurred the edges of my vision. I tried to sit up, to turn my head. I needed to see Rooster. I needed to make sure he was all right.
Then I heard his voice.
“Somebody call an ambulance!”
Chapter Seven
Rooster
“Lou, darlin’, look at me,” I said.
I felt like I was falling apart. Lou’s blood pooled on the pavement and there was a hole in her stomach that wouldn’t stop gushing. I pressed my shaking hand to the wound and she whimpered, turning confused eyes toward me.
