‘Hey!’ Armstrong snapped back. ‘Listen, Luce …’ He jabbed at her with a finger. ‘I’ve got lots of affection for you, love, but it has its limits …’ His words broke off, as he finally noticed the four gouges on the left side of her face. ‘Okay … what the fuck is going on?’

‘I need to lie low for a couple of hours,’ she said. ‘Maybe a bit longer.’

‘You and your mum?’

‘I wouldn’t have brought her otherwise.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s genuinely better if I don’t tell you.’

He regarded her warily. ‘So, let me get this right … you want our hospitality for an indefinite period of time, but you don’t feel the need to offer an explanation?’

‘The only explanation you need, Kyle, is that I’m calling in that favour.’

Armstrong frowned. ‘You’ve already done that.’

‘I’m calling it in again,’ she said. ‘And I’ll call it in again after that, if I want to. Don’t forget, mate, I’m the police. The rumour is … we can do anything we want.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Armstrong bared his teeth in an angry grin, no doubt fuelled by his awareness that leather and denim-clad figures now clustered around them, the rank-and-file of his chapter.

A lot of it was show where Kyle Armstrong and Lucy were concerned, but she was still surprised when he grabbed her by the upper arm and propelled her roughly down to the far end of the clubhouse, the bikers breaking apart to let him through. When they were several yards from anyone else, he let her go, but forcefully, pushing her back against a wall.

‘Try that once more, and you’ll get that hand broken,’ Lucy hissed, rubbing her bicep.

‘Hey, love …’ His tone was pointedly disdainful, but he spoke quietly. ‘I know you, and you know me. We might have had good things once. But we were kids back then, and a lot’s changed. You don’t come and muscle me in my own place.’ He lowered his voice even more. ‘Now I don’t expect you to bow and grovel, but the very least you can do is show me a bit of respect, yeah? Especially if you want me to cover for you.’

This wasn’t a totally unreasonable demand, she supposed.

‘We’ve picked up some heat,’ she said.

‘What kind of heat?’

‘The dangerous kind.’

His brow furrowed. ‘And it’s on its way as we speak?’

‘Most likely not. It doesn’t know about this place.’

He eyed her uncertainly. ‘You know what we do here? I mean, apart from chug beer, listen to music and ride our bikes. I mean what we really do?’

‘Course I do.’ She’d have been some kind of cop if she hadn’t known about the Low Riders’ drug-dealing exploits, but at present it was a case of better the devil she knew.