Everyone had frozen. Again, the music fell silent. Armstrong glanced at Lucy, bewildered. ‘Okay … what the fuck is this?’

‘You’re Kyle Armstrong, I’m guessing?’ Tucker said. ‘Head honcho of this shithole.’

Armstrong straightened up, chest out. ‘President of the chapter actually, pal.’

‘Whatever, pal … you’re in trouble.’

‘Tell me something new.’

‘Nah …’ Tucker grinned all the more.

Grinning too much, Lucy thought. You feeling the pressure as well, Danny?

‘I don’t mean the playing-at-it trouble you normally get into,’ Tucker said. ‘I mean big trouble, real trouble.’

Armstrong lurched at him. ‘You think you know the meaning of the phrase?’

‘Save it, fuckhead!’ Tucker shoved Five Bellies away and levelled his gun on Armstrong instead, bringing him to an immediate halt. ‘You hairy, unwashed dipsticks are harbouring a murder suspect, which at the very least is perverting the course of justice, and that alone will get you time. Anything else we find while we’re tearing the crap out of this place will only add to it.’

But moisture glinted on Tucker’s brow. He was being very careful to stay near the door, Lucy noticed. She also saw that he was wielding a Colt Cobra .38 Special, which was not police issue. That meant he hadn’t officially drawn a firearm before coming here. All the better on one hand – he hadn’t yet risked trying to make this thing legal. But on the other, it meant that bodies would not be found riddled with police bullets, which gave him a kind of advantage.

‘He’s on his own,’ Five Bellies said aloud. ‘No support units, nothing …’

Which was also good news, Lucy told herself.

‘One of me’s all I need,’ Tucker retorted. ‘Trust me, I won’t need any help making your lives very unpleasant indeed. Back off, all of you!’

The biker crowd, perhaps starting to sense that something was wrong here, had edged a little closer. Now, very grudgingly, they edged backward again.

‘Not you, Lucy. You get over here. You’re under arrest.’

Armstrong looked at Lucy, baffled. ‘Is this above board?’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Cora replied loudly. ‘These people tried to kill us in our own house. Now they’re pretending they’re taking us into custody, but the truth is we won’t get to any police station. Not alive.’

The biker president looked even more perplexed. ‘Luce?’

‘Quit wasting your breath, Armstrong,’ Tucker said, eyes darting left and right. The clarity and directness of Cora’s accusation had visibly unnerved him.

The rest of the chapter stirred uneasily. In some quarters, chains and bats had appeared.

‘You’re not going to do anything,’ Tucker advised them. ‘Seriously, you idiots should be thinking about saving your own arses!’

‘That’s what you should be doing, Danny,’ Lucy said, her voice deliberately calm.