Inherent

Soft hair and the smell of masculine mint are what wake me up this morning, which is a bit of a twist from how I’m used to waking up. Especially lately. Lately, or the two weeks Julia and I spent apart, consisted of me waking up alone. Lonely. It’s automatic for me to groggily pull her closer in an all too protective manner, even in my half asleep state, so she is tucked farther into my chest, and I inhale softly. Her hair tickles my nose, the thought of her using my shampoo for the past two days a little amusing until I remember why she hasn’t gone back to her house to get her own, or even why she won’t run to the store to buy more. She’s too afraid.

To even leave my apartment.

Since Tuesday night, she hasn’t left. It’s Friday now, and I can’t wait any longer.

My arm loops around her waist and her back is flush against my torso, as close as we can possibly be but I remain careful, aware of the fact that she is still asleep, and that it would be best not to wake her.

Because I have to leave. Only for a bit, but I hate to be away even for just a little while. I have to figure out exactly what the hell is going on, to fix whatever’s gone wrong and eliminate anything that could be a threat to her, because having her live in fear like this absolutely kills me. It causes a hard, caustic, smoldering anger to brew inside me, the kind which I have never felt before. The need to protect someone, the need to ensure their happiness, is what fuels such intense fury.

I will fix this. Before it can get any worse, before something else is taken from her.

It takes over ten minutes for me to wake up fully, to fight with myself and gently release her from my hold and cautiously roll out of bed at a snail’s pace. She can be a light sleeper, especially when her sleep is troubled and when she is worried, like now. She might be strong on the surface but far too much has happened for her to be so steady, as steady as she has made herself appear all this time. And my only goal now is to ensure she never has to feel this way again.

Before leaving the bedroom, I carefully lean over the bed to gently push her tousled hair back and lay a kiss to her temple, smiling at the sight of her surprisingly deep slumber. I shower in another bathroom down the hallway so as not to make too much noise near her, take every precaution to leave without disturbing her in hopes that she will sleep a few more hours, be at peace for just a little longer, but when I’m out in the kitchen with my keys in hand I hear her soft footsteps come through. She sleepily peeks out from around the corner, blue eyes bleary and hair a bit of a mess.

“Where are you going?” The worry in her tone tells me she already knows, but she has to ask.

I sigh lightly, pocket my keys while drawing closer before I embrace her, unable to help my smile at the sight of her wearing one of my t-shirts. It’s so large on her, the shorts she wears are totally hidden by it, as it reaches past mid-thigh and is effective in totally swamping her small frame.

“I’m just going out with the boys for a bit, baby. Don’t you worry about me today—I want you to try and get some more sleep.”

I know she was up late the night before. Worrying. My hold is gentle as I guide her back to the bedroom, hand lingering at her waist as she silently slides back in bed. She surprises me when she reaches for my hand when I start to pull away after she is settled under the covers.

While biting her lip and looking all too shy, she utters her timid, sleepy question barely above a whisper. “Can you stay? Just for a bit?”

“Alright,” I murmur quietly, conceding easily, and lay down next to her under the covers. She exhales heavily as my arm comes around her waist again, as though relieved that I haven’t left her, even though we both know I will have to go eventually. But I indulge in this, in this small moment that somehow means so very much to us, and savour the warmth we share under the blankets for several wondrous minutes.

She isn’t sleeping. Her slightly quickened breathing tells me that she is awake, that she is thinking things far too heavy to face at eight in the morning, though I vainly hoped for a moment that she could fall back into a peaceful sleep before I leave.

She doesn’t ask what I’m doing, because she knows. Vaguely—but she knows. “Please. Please be careful, Harry. Please.”

The desperation infused into each of her words is wounding to me, and I can’t help but to reassure her. As much as I possibly can without lying. “I will. I promise. I’ll be back a little after noon.”

My telling her that I’ll be home means more than just a small acknowledgement—it’s me telling her that I won’t put myself in harm’s way, not if I can help it, and I will come home to her when it is all said and done. That she isn’t going to lose me.

She nods wordlessly, and I lean to hover over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead when she tilts her head back. “I love you,” she mumbles, far too awake for my liking, and I hate the thought of her sitting up all morning stuck in the house with nothing to do but worry.

“I love you too. I’ll be back in just a bit, baby. I promise you.”

She nods again, and after lingering even longer, I finally manage to pull myself away. While I leave, however, I vow to myself and to Jules that this is it: I no longer belong to the club. I belong to her, and I will do absolutely everything in my power for her to feel happy and safe again.

An hour later, I sit on somebody else’s couch, staring down at my phone through narrowed vision.

“He’s on his way now.” I inform the two men, who remain tense and waiting in front of me. We’re sat in Liam’s living room, all apprehensive and waiting for news—any news. Louis and Liam nod and I release a long, impatient exhale.

It isn’t that Niall doesn’t know what he is doing or that I don’t believe he does his job well, but I assigned the blonde Irishman an important task. For two days he has been following Lucy, since I got wind of her ‘surprise, friendly’ visit to Julia just one day before her house was trashed and burglarised. The goal was to hopefully gain information on Joe’s whereabouts in the city. We know he is here—Lucy said it herself. Since those two have worked closely together for years it wouldn’t be a shock to learn they share the same living space, too.

That logic only furthers my belief that she was involved with what occurred at Julia’s house. My grip on my phone tightens until my knuckles turn white and the metal gives an audible creak under the applied pressure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. I wouldn’t be satisfied even if I snapped the thing in half—because it isn’t is what I really would like inflict some damage upon.

What really doesn’t help Lucy’s case is the fact that I have not heard even a whisper from her in three days. Three days ago, when she lured me out to the opposite side of the fucking city while Julia unknowingly walked straight into danger. Now I unquestionably, without doubt don’t possess even an ounce of trust or sympathy for her. Not after she went to Julia behind my back and nearly scared her into fainting, scared her so much that she called me, and not after the break in. Us working together is out of the question, if it wasn’t before.

She either must be stupid and naïve, or she has a death wish—along with Joe.

By the end of this, neither of them will ever have the chance to breathe the same air as Julia. But as of right now they are both at large, and I unfortunately had to leave it up to my friend; an old colleague of mine, who used to be an expert ay finding people with very little to go by, and very discreetly at that. I trust that Niall will come through for me today… until then, however, I sit tensely on the sofa and wait with rapidly thinning patience. He messaged me an hour ago to tell me that she just left the hotel she stayed at for the night and was heading south, that he was tailing her as she drove a regular sedan with blacked out windows. That was when I had to leave Jules, who thankfully slept peacefully in my bed.

Because I obviously couldn’t discuss or plan any of this with her present—not that I don’t want to tell her, but it would only cause her to be upset over something she won’t be involved in anyway—we decided to gather at Liam’s. Hell, I myself and my current state of mind would probably scare her away. I’m okay with her being safe and sound at my apartment, which is even being watched and protected itself… Jules is not aware of that fact yet, but I did leave a note requesting that she sit tight until I get back in the afternoon.

Truthfully, I don’t want her to see me like this, not when I have only retribution and violence on my mind, not when I feel like I could murder someone.

“He’s good, mate,” Louis assures calmly, though he otherwise looks grim and nothing like his usual optimistic self. He knows that trouble is afoot. A hell of a lot of it, too.

Collectively, we all know that we have to nip this in the bud before it grows into something bigger. Something we can’t handle as a small group, something that could only be dealt with as part of a club. An army. But right now when things look as though that club is against us, we have to act fast.

Finally, after I supply Louis with a tense nod to show I appreciate his reassurance, Niall messages me again to let me know he is on his way up. All this while, I have hardy been able to focus for more than a few annoying moments. I can’t stop thinking about Jules, how thankful I am that she happened to have today off work, and that she is home safe in my apartment until I get back. That while she is probably up right now, anxious and waiting for me to return, it won’t be long before I come back to her.

While more than thankful of the boys’ help, too, I don’t want to deal with any of this. I want to be with Julia. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop thinking about Tuesday night, how she finally told me what she’s been holding back for so long. And how, now, that seems so small in comparison. Her heart. Yet at the same time there’s nothing I want more than to take her in my arms, shield from all the dangers of the world, and tell her that I love her and her uneasy, skittish heart. Love her with everything I have in me.

I want to tell her that her heart is absolutely beautiful, breathtaking, and how it feels like it’s impossible to love her any more than I do now. That it would probably break me totally if I did.

Especially after she stayed. She stayed, after she found the gun I have been forced to tote around since news of Joe broke. She stayed and she knows all of my past, and that is more than I could have ever hoped for.

When I refocus, Niall is plundering in and sprawling himself onto an arm chair, somehow able to look both optimistic yet utterly exhausted at the same time.

“Hello, lads,” he says while running a hand down his face with a weary smile. He knows how important this is, how quickly we need to act, but seems almost hesitant to talk about whatever he might have learned in the past forty-eight hours of following Lucy’s every move.

“Where is she now? Did you see Joe?” I ask, cutting straight to the chase. I want someone to pay for what has already happened, what couldn’t be avoided. I want to stop whatever might be planned next. And I want that done now. So we can get past this, so we can move on. So I never have to see that look of fear in Julia’s eyes again, without having a single word of reassurance to give her.

The moment we met, I knew I wasn’t going back to The Rogues. Hell, just before the very first time I took Jules out was when the mess with Joe began, I decided then to be a better man. For her. Even when we hardly knew each other and all I had to go on was that she was quite sad and alone and I had this inherent need to know her, to love her, and protect her. The club won’t jeopardize that—I won’t let it.

Only now am I even entraining them is because it’s been thrown on our doorstep. Literally. And to ignore it would be foolish, dangerous.

But Niall peers at me now in quiet astonishment, as if he only now knows what he is dealing with. Like maybe I should have warned him about Lucy—but I did. I told him exactly what she is… I know how difficult it will be to get this done. But I’m nothing if not determined. And ruthless. Ruthless when it comes to protecting Julia.

“What is this chick about,” he asks slowly, though he continues when he catches sight of my narrowed gaze and upturned lip, ready to snap at him to get on with it already. “She never spotted me once, I’m sure of that, but she acted like someone was following her every second of the day anyway. Jesus Christ.”

“Did you get a location?” I demand snappishly, every muscle in my body aching to spring into action.

The men don’t even raise their eyebrows at my behaviour; after all, Liam was the one to push me out of the book store last week when I first learned that Lucy told Joe about Julia. When in such a state, I have absolutely no patience to speak of. Especially not when it comes to the likes Lucy, the woman who made my life as difficult as possible for several years.

I hate that Niall actually sounds impressed.

More disgust fills me the more I am forced to think of her. There is perhaps one thing I know with total certainty—I am ready to rid myself of the club’s parasitic presence in my life once and for all. And Lucy, by association, is lumped in with that too. It still astounds me that she had the nerve the corner my girl. She came to Julia’s home, scared the life out of her.

Niall huffs indignantly. “What. D’you think I just sat around, twiddling my thumbs and ogling her?” Out of Liam and Louis comes a collective snicker, along with a murmur of ‘your thumbs weren’t the only thing you were twiddling, I bet’, before Niall flips them off and turns back to me. “I’m just saying, Harry. This one wasn’t easy.”

“I told you not to underestimate her.”

“And I didn’t,” he says confidently. “After she left the hotel literally all she’s done is drive around, near Disciple territory. No contact with Joe—like, none. Not on her bike either. A very inconspicuous tinted out sedan.”

The last part of that he had relayed to me not long ago, but Chicago’s homegrown gang that is Disciple is one of The Rogue’s most formidable enemies and former competitors. They are part of the reason why the club’s planned expansion to this city was stopped.

Now this new information gives me some pause, forces me to try and think with a clear mind what she could possibly be up to. And where on earth Joe could be in all this.

“That bastard is probably hiding,” I growl out, soured by the lack of apparent reason. “He knows I’m looking for him, and he’s being a coward—as usual.”

Liam leans forward, braces his elbows on his knees while holding his chin between his hands. “Maybe this is all a guise to cover up and act normal after Tuesday.”

We all take a tense moment to consider Liam’s ponderings, it being the most likely thing that could be happening. But Joe and the club are both so complicated they’re headache-inducing on their best days, and Louis coughs doubtfully. Even Liam himself doesn’t seem to believe his own words.

“Now, something about this doesn’t feel right,” Louis murmurs. “We’re obviously missing something here. Disciple are no friends of The Rogues. Hell, last year they even asked me to off my old pal here. Remember that, Harry?”

On a stiff though slightly amused nod, I do recall that quite clearly. Louis isn’t even a contractor or what one would call a hit man, but they had stupidly offered him a gross amount of money to ‘take care of me’ just before I quit the business, anyway. Louis came to me afterward, barely able to conceal his laughter, and simply told me that perhaps I’d made a few too many enemies for myself, and to take the tight ship I’d been running elsewhere. Then, together we both went and made sure the man in charge of Disciple knew that I wasn’t so easy to take down.

“So what the hell is she doing over there, then?” It is Niall’s turn to wonder aloud. None of us have an answer, and that bothers so much my temper is nearly shot.

Roughly shoving my phone into my pocket, I stand. “I’m going to find out. You lads can join me if you like.”

If there is one thing I don’t have time for, it’s sitting around pondering over the trivial life of someone who has obviously worked very hard to make an enemy out of themselves.

Today I am going to get answers. Other than that, we have no choice but to wait and see what happens. We really have no idea what we’re walking into, but I am prepared for the worst.

“Wait—wow, hold on, Harry. We can’t go running off half-cocked and blind into this. Just sit tight for a minute, so we can make some semblance of a plan.” I hate Louis’ logic right now, because it makes sense, and goddamnit I just want this over with. I want to go home to Jules already.

I whirl on him, glaring harshly. While I don’t know all that surrounds this mysterious situation, I do know Lucy. And Joe, and the club. I know exactly what I’m doing and what to expect. And that, for me, is more than enough planning. I am ready to act.

Sitting here waiting is just giving them another moment to breathe, let alone have the opportunity to hurt Julia again. All while I sit here on Liam’s couch planning.

The moment I point at Louis, gaze dark and ready to growl out all the reasons why it is nothing short of foolish to wait around for something to happen, my phone begins to vibrate. I glare at him for a moment longer, and after he remains impassive and unperturbed by my sour mood I slowly lower my hand, figuring this challenge can wait.

Ever conscious of the fact that Julia is at home alone, I quickly retrieve the device, switching from simmering with rage to an only half concealed concern in an instant. The boys watch this rapid change in me with mild curiosity—Louis and Liam don’t seem too surprised, but Niall furrows his brows in slight confusion. He hasn’t yet met Julia, hasn’t seen exactly how much she means to me. He might understand later today, when he sees the lengths that I am willing to go in order to ensure her safety, her happiness.

But it isn’t Julia calling. One on hand I am relieved that nothing’s wrong, but secretly it might have been a hope of mine that maybe she was calling to check in, just so hearing her soft would calm my bristling anger some. The caller’s name flashes across the illuminated screen—Des.

Cursing, I turn away from the boys while glaring at the phone, which still rings incessantly.

“Who is it?” Niall asks, sounding half taken aback by my sharp changes in mood.

The muscle in my jaw ticks tellingly before I answer through a hiss. “My fucking father.”

Up until now, I purposefully avoided telling Des about what has been happening here with Joe and Lucy in the very plausible case that he might have some involvement in it, too. Now that he is calling, however, I won’t have much of a choice.

Sitting tensely on the couch again, I finally answer it with a brusque “hello.”

“I know it’s been a while, son, but I have some bad news.”

Unlike with Joe, I don’t have as much of a problem with Des calling me ‘son’. Though mostly only because he is my father, and that while he certainly isn’t the best role model in the world, he gave me what he could from the life he lived. It was all wrong and if it could be taken back it would be in a nanosecond, but his twisted kindness was once appreciated. At one point.

But also—I just really hate Joe too.

I scoff anyway at his weary tone, not in the mood to play any of these games. As if he doesn’t know, as if he isn’t calling just to further antagonize me. A split second decision is made to be straight with him, because in reality we haven’t got much time to try anything else. I want to get as much information out of my father as I can from this phone call. “Yeah, well so do I. Maybe you could shed some light on why the hell The Rogues trashed my girlfriend’s house? And stole from her?”

There’s a moment of curious silence over the line, silence that puzzles me. Usually, Des is snappier than even I am. The boys all stare at me silently, on edge, all wearing individual expressions of concern.

“Harry,” he actually sounds sincerely surprised, even taken off guard. This only puzzles me even more, and I sit back with an audible, frustrated huff while waiting for him to form a reply. “I don’t know what’s going on up there. That’s why I’m calling. This is the first I’ve heard of it. Maybe we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands than I thought.”

A bigger problem—that isn’t what I wanted to hear. Or that he might be more clueless about what has been going on than anyone else. That maybe he won’t be much of a help to us, after all. For the moment I refuse to inquire about whatever is going on with him. As far as I am concerned, it isn’t my problem. I’ve got my own to deal with, I just hope we’ve don’t have a small slice of a much larger, dangerous pie.

“Well, your tag is on her wall. There’s thousands in damage. If it wasn’t your concern before, it certainly is now.”

I will make damn sure it is.

“Listen to me,” Des says slowly, impatience finally slipping into his own voice. “I didn’t even know you had a girl. Things here aren’t like they used to be. Joe is missing, and the club has put a warrant out for him.”

Missing and warrant immediately grab my full attention, shock along with a devious, acidic happiness both hitting me at once. A warrant to the club is different from what a warrant is to the police—for the club, it means he is dead to them. He just needs to be found first. I straighten, glance momentarily to the boys with a straight face, and they all stare at me with intensified curiosity. Niall mouths ‘what did he say?’ a little too loudly, and Louis throws a cushion from Liam’s couch in his direction.

For another brief second I am totally silent, attempting to figure out exactly what is going on, and how it could be related back to all that has taken place here. There are far too many possibilities.

“Why?” I ask eventually, not quite able to believe the news. Joe is Des’ brother, and I am almost positive that my father wouldn’t allow this to happen. He would save Joe’s life before mine. And I’m not hurt or angry over that fact—their loyalty, as poor of a choice as it is on my father’s part, is the strongest I have ever seen. That is just how it has always been.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” Des lets more of his frustration slip, and the amount of acrimony in those barked words is even more shocking. “He screwed up the deal down here with 187 West. He must have had it planned all along. He took our weapons and their fucking money, Harry, and he ran.”

“Jesus Christ,” I swear. Not only does this look bad on Joe, but on the club as a whole. Des must really be going out of his mind, with the club’s twisted reputation for being meticulous and as trustworthy as a motorcycle gang can be all tarnished.

Making such an ill-planned move was the same as signing his own death certificate. What’s worse is that Joe should know that better than anyone—so, by that logic, he either has a plan or is off on some psychotic break with no care for the obvious consequences, prepared to go out with one hell of a bang. “That fool expected the club to support him. I guess he figured he’d screw over 187, bring back the cash and the goods. But 187 is a big player, son. Bigger than us. We need their business and the connection, and now 187 is picking off members until we bring him Joe, the guns, and his money. Cutter and Don are dead, Harry.”

I suck in a sharp breath. Back when I was an entirely too green member just starting out, a little too cocky too, Don and Cutter saved my ass from getting killed several times. They were some of the better, more respectable members of the club. Now they’re gone—they’re gone, and it is only Joe’s selfish fault.

My frustration continues to mount until I feel the vein in my neck pulse, and I only calm myself slightly by planning Joe’s demise, step by step, and with the reassurance that no harm will ever come to Julia again once this is over.

A long, defeated sigh comes through when I say nothing. There isn’t much to say, really. “I can’t help him. Not this time.”

“So,” I begin, gruff and unrelenting. “What do you want me to do about it?”

This sort of thing was never in my job description. Hell, I don’t even really know what he is asking of me. Because this is, after all, still his brother. I try not to come across as too eager. As blood-thirsty as I really am in this moment. I’d bet my life that Joe had everything to do with Julia’s house. “I take it he is no longer a member of the club, is he?”

“No, he isn’t.”

This—this fills me with an undeniable amount of relief. Now he doesn’t have the one thing he has always depended on: the protection of the club. Joe is vulnerable, and he has many enemies who would jump very quickly at this golden opportunity to exact revenge. Including me.

“Si and Knox followed him north. We know he’s in Chicago, but not exactly where.” My father isn’t finished, but I interrupt him with a question of my own, unwilling to let it slip.

“What about Lucy? I know for a fact that she is here.”

“We have to assume that she’s siding with him. I haven’t heard a word from her since before Joe left.”

I can’t quite believe all that I’m hearing. Two of what were the club’s most dedicated, loyal members, now with death warrants on their heads. Things really must be rough down in Nevada. It’s hard to say what will even be left of The Rogues once all this is said and done.

“What kind of weapons are involved?” It’s unspoken now, what Des wants me to do. And I am more than considering it—with several clauses. It certainly would not be solely for the club’s benefit.

“Mostly semi-auto assault rifles. AKs, ARs. And a shitload of handguns.”

I emit a controlled exhale, glance slowly up to the boys. While dangerous, this is nothing we haven’t dealt with before. We can handle it.

“If I do this for you,” I begin, careful of my word choice. I catch Louis’ frown—my friend probably doesn’t like that I am agreeing and making deals without thinking it through or at least consulting them first. But there’s no time for that now. I know why my father came to me. He wants to keep this in the family, the disgrace that Joe has brought upon the club. He wants me to act quickly, before anyone else has the chance to. I am for that, too; there’s only one person I’m thinking of right now. The person I will come home to when this is all over. “I’m out. Officially.”

Des, of course, knows exactly what I am referring to—my own membership. Which would be considered inactive at the very least anyhow, but to the club there’s no such thing as an inactive member. You’re either in or you’re out, and getting out is no easy task.

Last year my father let me go, but the rest of the club, even Joe, the (now former) vice president, assumed I was still active but simply laying low. It was only between myself and my father that I had gone straight, put a firm wedge between myself and the wrong side of the law. And while I don’t look up, I can hear the disbelieving gasp from each of the boys.

Making deals like this, you have to follow through. There are no other alternatives, or else you could end up in the same position as Joe. They know that just as well as I do.

“Harry, my boy, you have been. I know you made a good life for yourself in Chicago, and I don’t want you to jeopardize that…” the fond tone he uses almost shocks me. Some things must have changed, Des must have re-evaluated his family values perhaps. Seen Joe for what he truly is, realized that he’s never had a proper relationship with his son. “But the club.”

“I know,” I say. It’s even more shocking that my father, who is usually a distant man on his best day, is being so honest and sincere with me now. This must be hard for him. It must. He is essentially being forced to disown his brother, someone who has been at his side for decades. I always thought that he would even choose Joe over the club if it came down to it, but this is different. Joe betrayed him.

“If you take care of this for me, son, it will be more than enough to satisfy the club. You won’t be a member, won’t be affiliated in any way. The Rogues will never be a part of your life again.”

Licking over my bottom lip, I weigh his words, the sincerity in them. I’ll let him think I’m doing this for him, as a favour and as a means of an end with the club, but really—really, I will be doing it all for Julia.

“Deal.”

***

As good as Niall is at following people and keeping tabs from a distance, he somehow fails horribly at trying to stealthily sneak about around the house that Lucy has holed herself up in for the day. Conveniently, it happens to be as far as possible out of Disciple’s territory, and I think that odd. Joe would want to be closer to their activity, if he really was involved.

Actually, everything about this situation strikes me as a little strange. Nothing makes sense, not yet, and that has me tense and frustrated and snapping at the boys. They take it all with a small, amused smile, however, and when asked what the best strategy of entering the house would be, Niall shrugs his shoulders and gives an insufficient response. “Round back, I guess.”

“Well, alright,” I snap back, though under my hard infallible mask I am slightly amused with my friend’s slightly bumbling ways. “You go on and try that first, then.”

He frowns, look at me sceptically. “She’s not going to kill me, is she?”

We’re all stood on the sidewalk behind a tall privacy shrub one house down from where Lucy is staying. By this time we already scouted the place and determined that she was sitting in the living room area, innocently enough. The house is nothing too special, a bungalow that looks like all the others on this street out in the suburbs. It’s no more than fifteen minutes away from Julia’s house—something I dislike entirely, and wonder if it was intentional. We already know she is alone, so we aren’t really trying to get things done as quietly as possible. That was never my style when it didn’t have to be. I like to have my presence known, and I think sneak attacks can be quite cowardly.

“Afraid of a girl, Niall?” Louis prattles off, laughing.

“Course not, I’m not afraid of anybody,” Niall turns defensively, and it’s with this that we know he is going to do it. Niall is never one to back down from a challenge, however foolish it may be.

I’m not cruel, however. I have a plan. As soon as Niall puffs up his chest and stalks off down the sidewalk, noisily hopping the neighbour’s wooden fence, I make for the front. Liam and Louis follow, but obey when I signal for them to fall back. Through the large front window Lucy can be easily seen turning toward the back while Niall undoubtedly makes a ruckus, and the moment her back is turned to investigate, I casually stroll up the gravel pathway, up the steps, and to the door. It pops open with an easy turn of the handle—I think this too a little odd and unwise, and spend a moment to wonder why so many people in Chicago tend to leave their doors unlocked.

Really, only Julia runs through my mind. How terrified I was after venturing over one night and found the front door unlocked while she sat vulnerable and oblivious at work in her bedroom.

Today, however, either Lucy’s lapse in judgement or the possibility that she intentionally left it open works to my advantage. I keep telling myself that the only enemies Julia has in her life are by association, enemies who are mine first and foremost, and she doesn’t have to fear them at home where she is safe and protected.

From the back a scuffle is quickly heard. I was prepared for that, too, and quicken my pace. Lucy is unpredictable even when things are to her advantage, and while I received a small laugh out of it I don’t want to see my friend hurt. As I pass through the short hallway I draw my pistol, prepared for anything, and I receive it; upon turning the corner I see Lucy with the upper hand—literally. She has an arm secured around Niall’s neck in a tight headlock, and her free hand braced at the elbow to increase pressure if Niall decides to struggle. But she does it anyway as soon as she lays eyes on me. Poor Niall is beyond red in the face and pushes uselessly against her, as though even in his current predicament he still refuses to harm a woman. She doesn’t even falter at the sight of my gun pointed at her—only tightens her grip on what is now her hostage and makes use of him as a human shield.

“It’s about time you showed up. I know you’ve been playing house, but I didn’t think you got so lazy.” Through all of her cutting words, she sounds a little breathless but in control. My eyes follow her closely, looking for any hint of nervousness in her demeanour. There is none, and I think that even odder. Perhaps she thinks she is at an advantage in this situation, but if that is the case, her hope is quickly dashed.

“He hasn’t,” Liam answers for me, the barrel of his pistol visible through the back door that was left swung open from when Niall entered and she caught him. With two guns on her and no weapon except maybe her own hands, Lucy has no other choice but to let Niall go.

Or at least that is what should be logical to her. But she doesn’t, not yet, now even when he is gasping in an effort for some small amount of oxygen to enter his lungs and very close to unconsciousness, I fear.

She doesn’t loosen her hold until her gaze drifts over my shoulder.

“He hasn’t,” Louis agrees brightly. He is also brandishing his weapon, though I don’t have to glance back at him to know that. Lucy glares at what I know must be his all too smug smirk. “As you can see, he is actually being quite diligent in all this.”

Finally, and she still looks as though what she really wants is to hold onto Niall until he goes totally unconscious, lifeless beneath her hands, she releases him and stretches out her arm in an alarmingly casual fashion. Niall falls to his knees, wheezing and holding his throat, and as soon as he is recovered enough he launches himself away from the volatile blonde. He ends up on his backside by my feet, looking up at her wide-eyed. She only smirks, both hands now held up, otherwise unbothered by the odds which are very obviously set against her. “Still—I expected you sooner.”

Julia is more important than her, than the club. So much more important that it isn’t even a second thought that I would throw it all away from her. Of course I dedicated my time to her first. To make sure she was okay, even though she only found out about all of this just days ago. If I up and left right after she discovered my past, she probably would have been so overwhelmed that she’d have left too. It would have been selfish of me to act so quickly, to leave her when she obviously needed me, needed to see that I love her more than anything else in the world, and that I accept her along with everything else—her disorder—that makes her so absolutely unique.

Never one for Lucy’s games, I step forward to stand in front of Niall and focus on her with a dark scowl. “Tell me, are you on a suicide mission?”

Surprise and confusion flicker through the pale, icy blue of her irises. “Me?” She asks, as though offended, and only now has Niall gotten his breath back enough to find his voice.

“You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” He coughs loudly, outraged, though no one acknowledges him. Lucy and her reactions are nothing but capricious, and now that I have her cornered, I refuse to let her out of my sight. “Christ. Using me as fuckin’ bait.”

“It worked,” is my murmured, scathing reply. Now is not the time for bickering, but I make a mental note to issue an apology to him later. He thinks Lucy could have killed him, but I’d been in control of the situation the entire time. I could have scripted it myself.

“I’m not on any mission,” Lucy snaps, now ignoring Niall completely.

“No?” I laugh threateningly, adjusting my hold on the grip of my gun. “Then tell me why you decided to pop in to Julia’s place for a visit, one day before it was ransacked? This all looks very suspicious on you, Lucy, and if she would have told me sooner you can count on the fact that I wouldn’t have appeared ‘lazy’. The club is looking for you.”

“The club? Why?” A twisted sort of satisfaction fills me at her genuine confusion. She, at the very least, doesn’t know half of what’s gone on.

“When is the last time you saw Joe?” Her question is answered with yet another question, because I refuse to give her even the slightest amount of decency right now. No, I decide it is only fitting to play with her like she has with me multiple times in the past. The wound isn’t even open yet, and I am already rubbing salt in it with a rough, cold hand.

Undeniably, I am enjoying every moment of this.

At the mention of Joe, her mentor and the man she has looked up to for years, Lucy glances away, breaking her bold eye contact for the first time since I entered the room. This causes me to frown and lower my weapon on the assurance of Louis and Liam covering me—Niall has only just now gotten to his feet, and at this point I’m not even sure if he brought a weapon.

None of this concerns me, however, and her obvious reaction tells me that she knows something.

“He disappeared,” she answers quietly, her gaze not half as strong when she glances back to me.

“Disappeared?” I echo in doubt, cocking my head to the side. She nods mutely, something she never does—a quiet Lucy means something has gone terribly wrong, and probably that she is aware of more than she is letting on.

I begin to laugh. A deep, hard, slow chuckle that echoes through the room, and I shake my head is dismay. “You really expect me to believe that?”

Today, Lucy doesn’t cover up her possible deception with defensive anger like I have witnessed from her so many times in the past. No, in fact it is hard to detect any dishonesty in her at all as she looks to me in desperate confusion, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m serious, Harry. He’s been gone since I last saw you on Tuesday.”

The day she dragged me off to ‘warn’ me of something that was already happening. If that’s all she has for an excuse, she’s going to have to do better. A whole lot fucking better, or else I have already made up my mind. When she undoubtedly catches that familiar hardness creep over my expression, the thinning of my lips and the narrowing of my eyes, she shakes her head quickly. “And before you say it—I didn’t have anything to do with the break in. I swear to god.”

God doesn’t mean a whole lot to Lucy, at least I never thought it did. This is the first time something like this has come out of her mouth, throws me for a bit of a loop.

Silent, I weigh her. Try to see how much of this in an act and if any at all might be genuine. More than anything I want to toss her aside, ruin her in the eyes of the club, screw her life over totally so she’ll never have the chance again to affect mine. Never have the opportunity to get so close to harming Julia.

“Can we really believe her, though,” Liam reasons. He still stands with his back to the door, watching every one of her movements closely, calculatingly. I purse my lips. While I lean toward hell no, of course not, there have only been a handful of times in the past where Lucy has felt the need to prove her honesty—and they were similar to today. Really, she only cares about the club.

And besides, I can’t see a reason for her to lie anyway.

If she did escape from this situation with us, she knows she would only be facing the unrelenting wrath of the club and the gang that Joe betrayed. Something much worse in comparison. It wouldn’t make a difference whether she lied to us or not, and something tells me that she would not have been sitting idly around if she knew what had happened. If she knew of Joe’s betrayal, of the club looking for her as a co-conspirator. It’s becoming clearer and clearer what happened here.

Joe dropped Lucy like a hot brick, washed his hands of her as if she meant nothing. As if she didn’t follow his every word for the past several years. She followed him like a loyal, bloodthirsty puppy. And that was all thrown away in an instant, and I know exactly why.

While he used Lucy to his advantage and whenever it would best benefit him, Joe knew that she wouldn’t go against the club. Not like this, not for money or power like he is surely doing it for. He knew that if he let her in on any of what he had planned, she would have reported every detail of it back to the club before it had the chance to occur.

Because I am confident that at least this much is true about Lucy: she would never betray the club. Her loyalty to The Rogues runs far deeper than it did for Joe, and that is a simple truth. Sometimes that didn’t seem the case, not when she looked to him as a mentor and some thought she would do anything for him, but in the end, everything they did before this was to the club’s advantage. Lucy knew he was a powerful player within the club, and she capitalized on it. This fact is one I hope to use to my advantage.

I watch a rare glimpse of fear grow in her eyes, and my chuckle dies as I murmur my next cryptic words. “You’re in trouble, then.”

For something she doesn’t think she even had anything to do with. This is coming together seamlessly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She demands, more breathless and pleading than anything else.

“Well, I’m not sure where I should begin. First I guess I should tell you that Joe is no longer the vice president of The Rogues, or even a member. And that he is wanted for treason.” I don’t bother to continue, knowing Lucy will react intensely to such shocking news.

She does—she stumbles back, points an accusing finger at me through a glare. “You’re lying.”

I only shake my head, the small smirk still present. From having spent so long simply being used by her to help her position among the other members, it is impossible to have any sympathy for her now. Particularly when it comes to Joe, when everyone knows he was the biggest snake out of all the club. She should have known better.

Then her flight instinct kicks in, and she only wildly glances toward the back door before taking off, shoving past Liam, uncaring of all the weapons pointed at her. But no one shoots—because not only do we still need information from her and I have no real desire to bring such harm to her, but also because she doesn’t get far. Not even down the stairs before Liam grabs her around the waist, forcefully pulling her back in while cursing quietly because she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

He pushes her back in and shuts the door with a slam, crossing his arms while leaning back against it to prevent another attempt at escape. Lucy stands in the middle with no way out of the situation she has found herself in.

At my mercy.

She appears no longer frantic but resigned, accepting.

Before speaking, she takes several seconds to steady her breathing and glance at Liam with a harsh side eye. These seconds pass impatiently slow on my part, and I busy myself with checking the clip in my pistol and ensuring there’s a bullet in the chamber. She watches me do this, as I knew she would, impassively.

“I tracked his last phone,” she says eventually. “South. But he must have destroyed it. I have no idea where he is, Harry. You have to believe me.”

I do, and I believe that she will also be useful in finding him. Whether or not she’s worth the trouble is another question.

“Here’s the thing—you’re wanted too, purely by association. As an accessory at the very least. And,” I hold up my gun in a casual manner when she begins to ferociously protest. Behind me, Niall sourly mutters for her to shut up already. “Even if not, even if we let you go and you prove to Des that you had nothing to do with this, your reputation within the club will be ruined.”

In on single sentence, I destroy every possible opportunity Lucy might think of, and I set it up to work in my favour beautifully. “Des… Des is angry. Told me himself there’s nothing he can do to help. Joe made his bed, and you have too.”

Lost, she chews her lip silently, looks each of us in the eye as though to weigh her options. Unfortunately for her, there aren’t any. There are not a whole lot of ways situations like these with the club end. She knows that very well. We are her best shot, which isn’t very promising in itself because at the end of the day I have no real concern for her. But the only alternative is being handed over to the club to explain herself, which we all know will not go over well.

“So—what did he do, exactly? Must be bad if Des is throwing him under the bus.”

“You obviously know about the deal he had with 187 West?” She nods slowly, already suspecting where this is headed. “And that he was in charge of it. When it came to the drop, he stole the goods, took the money and left.”

It really surprises me that he has made it this far, that the men Des sent to track him haven’t found him yet. But Joe is a smart man, he practically built the club with his brother, and if anyone is capable of avoiding its wrath for longer than previously thought possible, it is him. A week, now. An entire week he’s been missing, and I hate the thought. That he could be planning to hurt Julia right now.

Lucy swears softly, pinches the bridge of her nose, and turns away. “That senile fucking idiot.”

Now beside me Niall snorts, and I glance toward him in suspicion. Despite what just occurred and to my utter astonishment, Niall looks at Lucy in a mix of awe and admiration. “Around Disciple’s territory is where his phone last was. If… he isn’t acting alone. He’s doing this with them.”

The final piece of this puzzle is put together. That was why Lucy was in the blacked out car this morning in their neighbourhood. Looking for him. This makes things a little trickier, more dangerous, but I remain unmoved, confident that we still have solid control over the situation.

“So…” she becomes quiet, her voice dying, before she sets her jaw. “I believe you.”

“You believe me?” I laugh humourlessly. “You aren’t in much of a position to do anything else.”

Soon Lucy realizes just how touchy, just how serious I am, just how quickly I am willing to throw her to the wolves that represent justice from the club—because help can be found elsewhere, in better, more trustworthy forms. She chews her lip, but only for a moment, before speaking sincerely. “I swear to you, Harry. I had nothing to do with this. Why do you think I went to you in the first place? I knew something was wrong. I knew he was planning something, but… I didn’t think it would be this. Fuck.”

Her last expletive is shouted through aggressive frustration and she closes her eyes briefly before focussing on me again, a hard determination settling in them. “What are we going to do?”

“We?” My disbelief increases as I take a sharp step toward her. “I came here to bring you to Des.”

That’s a lie. Coming here, we had no idea what we were going to do, much less what would become of Lucy after this brief, however imperative, conversation. But she does not have to know that. “You couldn’t give me a reason to trust me if you tried.”

“That’s why I’m not,” she says in confidence, unwavering. “But my loyalty lies with the club. Not with Joe. Since he is a threat to us now, and even to me, I cannot just sit here and let you hand me over to Des for things I haven’t even done. I can help. I’ll prove my loyalty by helping you find him, by stopping him.”

Now this—this was exactly what I hoped she would say. Manipulating people isn’t something I enjoy doing too much anymore, but Lucy sometimes makes it so very easy, too easy to resist. Once you know her, once you see past her tough façade she puts on for the club, you can control her as easily as a ventriloquist can their dolls.

There are really only two outcomes of today: Lucy must be crazy if she thought I’d just let her go, allow her the chance to go to Joe and spill all the information we gave her. I was either going to turn her over to The Rogues just to be done with her once and for all, or she was going to help me.

Even that, after she offered, is still up in the air. I’d be a fool to trust her or her word, which is why she will be watched very carefully. And that, in itself, is an understatement to the precautions we will take.

“We’ll see about that,” I remark slowly, still deeming her utterly untrustworthy. “You won’t be left alone until this is over. If you prove to be difficult, you might even be restrained. That is up to Liam.”

He already appears displeased yet accepting when I turn to him, and I smirk slightly. “She’ll be staying with you.”

“Oh, if it’s too much trouble for Liam, she can stay with me,” Niall suggests suddenly, and we all round on him only to find he’s already thrown his hands up and laughing light-heartedly. “Kidding, laddies. Since I’ve already had my daily brush with death, I think I’ll head home. Call me if you need anything.”

On his way out, Niall tosses what I swear is a flirtatious glance to Lucy, who doesn’t even look at him. She is focussed on Liam, and it is clear why. By staying with him for this short time, she will essentially become his prisoner. “If you try to leave even just once or you do something you don’t have my explicit permission to do, Lucy, I swear to you—you’re done.”

She doesn’t even bother to argue. Liam peers back at her wearily after she nods and sighs, wondering just how much of a headache the foreseeable future will be for him and his new ‘guest’.

Quietly, I murmur for Louis to head out through the front and check the perimeter of the property, I clap Liam on the back and join him in observing her, except with a sardonic, satisfied smirk.

“Do not underestimate this one.”

He nods. “I won’t, mate.”

Now, finally, I can go home to Julia with a lighter heart and the reassurance that Joe won’t be free to inflict harm upon others for much longer. Not if we have anything to say about it.

Notes

Hi!! So here we are, the truth is finally out about Joe and his thieving, unscrupulous ways. Now Harry is tasked with taking down his own uncle! Yikes. He's more than happy to do it, though. What the heck are your thoughts on this particular bombshell? They were all so worried that Harry was facing the entirety of the club, but now it is working to his benefit.

The next chapter will be back in Julia's POV, and without giving too much away I want to say that it is definitely interesting, and that H&J will explore their intimacy quite a bit more.

Okay, that's all I have for you today. If you have a moment, please do consider leaving a comment! I always love any feedback you may have and take all your suggestions into consideration. :)