But work wasn't life.
And I wasn't sure she realized that anymore.
A part of me was worried she wasn't going to realize that until she got hurt or too old to do her work anymore. And then it might be too late to try to get all the things she'd missed out on.
I had no right to be worrying about her choices, of course. She was her own woman with her own mind and her own reasons for doing what she did.
But still, I was concerned.
In a strange way, I was almost glad she was out of commission for a few days, was going to be around the clubhouse where she could see what having friends and family and connections was all about.
Hell, she'd fawned over Remy's bird that morning, and it was like she'd suddenly remembered that pets could be a part of your life if you wanted them to, like she'd never even considered that before.
Maybe she'd see how nice having a bed was, a kitchen to cook in, a yard to walk around, people to talk to who knew who you were, who wanted to spend time with you.
"Wait," McCoy said, dragging me out of my swirling thoughts.
"What?" I asked, seeing a couple men emerge from the house across the street.
"Those two out front," McCoy said, jerking his chin toward the men making their way down the front path.
"You recognize them?" I asked, just seeing a couple middle-aged men in nice suits. "Who are they?"
"They're not the Chechens, that's for fucking sure," he said, scooping up his phone, snapping a few blurry pictures, then shooting a text off to Huck.
"The Ukrainians?" I asked, stiffening.
We'd had run-ins with several organizations since working to take over the arms trade in the area.
But the first big syndicate we'd gone against was a set of Ukrainian brothers. It had led to our old clubhouse that served as our home as well ending up blown the fuck up. And with Gus, Huck's sister, in a hospital with a broken arm after scaling a tree to hide from them when she'd gotten away.
After a couple months, we'd been able to find the Ukrainians who had gone underground, and we took them out for what they'd done.
At the time, they'd seemed like a standalone organization. But if they'd actually been connected to a larger Ukrainian mafia syndicate, and that group was connecting with the Chechens, things could have just gotten really fucking bad for us.
"Huck is not going to want to have to call the mother chapter for help again," McCoy said as several other men strolled out, got into their cars, and drove off.
"Don't think we will have much of a choice if this gets bigger than the shit we've already been dealing with," I agreed, watching the cars pull away.
"We need to scale up," McCoy grumbled, moving out the front door. "I know Huck is trying to be careful, but we need more men."
"Maybe Seeley has some contacts," I suggested. The kid had practically been raised by the streets. He knew damn near everyone for any situation. You needed Oxy at three a.m. on Christmas? He knew a guy. You had to track down some exotic, nearly-extinct animal? Yep, he knew someone. Chemicals to melt a human body? Yeah, he could find that too.
"We'll have to float the idea," McCoy said as we climbed on our bikes to head back now that it seemed like all the action was over for the time being.
By the time we made it back, the sun was setting, and Ayanna's car was joined with Booker's in the driveway.
"Hey," Sass greeted, spotting us first as we came in the back door. "Look who came to dinner," she added, waving toward the tall, skinny guy sitting across from her at the kitchen table.
Arty.
"Huck needed to see me," Arty declared, eating a piece of pizza he desperately needed. "So Booker picked me up on his way."
"Here," Sass called, putting a slice of pizza on a plate for me, pushing it in the space beside her. "How did the stakeout go?" she asked. I must have taken a deeper breath than I realized, because Sass grimaced. "That bad, huh?" she asked. "What is it with trouble always piling on?" she wondered aloud.
"Yeah, I don't know," I agreed. "How did your day go with the girls?"
"Apparently, I need to meet Gus. She and Ayanna had some crazy adventures."
"I don't think you and Gus would be a good combination. Her level of trouble with your level of speed."
"We could outrun the cops," she told me, smirking.
"So you had fun?" I asked, watching as she smiled down at her plate.
"Yeah. I am somehow in charge of making the cupcakes for the baby shower."
"Do you bake?" I asked, realizing there were still some things I didn't know about her, finding I liked that thought. That there was more to learn.