Evie set down the glass she’d been drying and met Lacey’s gaze with cold precision. She wasn’t some hooker from the street looking for a quick lay, and she refused to let anyone talk to her as if she was. “Let me make something very clear. I saved a man’s life while I was hemorrhaging from injuries my husband gave me when he shoved me down a flight of stairs. I performed emergency surgery in a basement with improvised tools while a gun was pointed at my head. I earned my place here through competence, not manipulation.”
“Your husband? Lacey’s eyes widened with mock sympathy, “Oh, so you’re married. Does he know you’re here, playing house with a bunch of bikers?"
“He knows I left, and he’s the reason I can’t go back,” Evie’s voice was ice, “Because if I do, he’ll kill me. So yes, I’m here
