Devil's Game

Sophie shuddered, and then tears filled her eyes. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. I reached out to touch her, but she shrugged me off.

“Sorry,” she said. “You better tie the bandage. I don’t want to touch it after touching my nose.”

I laughed.

“Thanks. That’d be just my luck—I’d survive kidnapping and Skid, only to be taken out by nose cooties.”

She smiled at me, and then she started giggling. It had a bit of a hysterical note to it, but I figured she’d earned it.

• • •

I found Skid’s phone on the coffee table. Thankfully it was his personal phone, not one of the burners I’m sure they kept around for talking business. I turned it on and there was another stroke of luck—Skid didn’t have it password protected.

That was stupid of him.

I scrolled through it, looking at his messages. Nothing of interest. Looked like he’d been sexting with some girl named Kelsey the night before. Not club related, though. His email was protected. Oh, and there . . . perfect. Google Maps. I clicked on it and found us. The house was along the Spokane Valley, back in the hills. Maybe half an hour from Coeur d’Alene. Funny, it seemed like we should be farther away—this place felt like a whole different world. Of course, if they’d been using it as a base to spy on the Reapers, it couldn’t be too far.

I opened the phone app and started dialing my dad’s number.

Then I stopped.

It was just after two p.m., so Hunter was probably still meeting with the club. If I called right now, told them I was safe, would they kill him? My stomach clenched. Whatever else I felt about Hunter, I didn’t want him dead. How to protect him? I could wait to call . . . But I had no idea how long the meet would go, and if I waited too long, more Jacks might show up.

What if I warned him?

The thought was so startling that I had to sit down on the couch. If I warned him, he could get away. But would warning him count as betraying the club?

Yes.

Yes, it would. That would absolutely be a betrayal and I should be ashamed of myself for even considering it. But then I thought about his soft, brown hair matted with blood. His body buried in an unmarked grave up in the mountains . . .

I’d warn him for the same reason I was keeping Skid alive, I decided. That wasn’t a true betrayal, was it? Dad could always hunt him down later, but for now I should help preserve the peace.

It was enough of an excuse for me to do it. I dialed him quickly, before I changed my mind. There was a scraping noise from the porch, and I looked through the window to see Sophie dragging over a chair to sit on. Would she ever forgive the Reapers for getting her into this? Poor Ruger. He was already in a weird spot with her, and this wouldn’t help.

“Skid?” Hunter asked, his voice tense. “I’m in the meet. Just got word, they found Toke. Clutch is alive but he’s in rough shape.”

“This isn’t Skid,” I said quietly, heart pounding. “If you want to live, you need to keep your face blank and listen to what I say.”

Brief silence.

“I hear you.”

“Sophie and I are in charge at the house now. Skid is alive, but he won’t stay that way if anyone tries to get us before Dad picks up. If you have any friends you’re planning to call, don’t. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“As soon as I hang up with you, I’m going to take ten minutes to go to the bathroom and clean up some scrapes I have,” I continued. “Then I’m calling my dad and telling him everything. If you want to survive, you better be gone before then.”

More silence. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know,” I said. Crap. “To keep the peace. Just get out, okay?”

“Okay.”

I hung up the phone and walked over to the door, pushing it open.

“I’m going to go clean up in the bathroom for a few. You okay out here?”

She nodded.

“Leave the door open so you can hear me screaming if I need to.”

“You got it.”

I found a bathroom between the living room and the dining room. When I looked in the mirror, I had to laugh. I looked like a lunatic woman. My hair was all over, I had raccoon eyes, and a bruise was starting to rise on my cheek.

Oh, and Skid’s blood had run down my chin and dried there.

I thought it added a touch of class.

“Damn, you’re sexy,” I whispered, giggling. I washed up all my scrapes and found some toothpaste in a drawer. I used my finger to rub it all through my mouth, which still tasted like evil biker ankle. Ten minutes later I pulled on my ridiculous shoes and hobbled out of the house toward Sophie, holding up the phone.

“Dumbass has Google Maps installed,” I told her. “I know exactly where we are. I’m calling them to come and get us.”

“That’s good news,” she replied. “He hasn’t moved at all. Do you think he has internal injuries?”

I shrugged, because I really didn’t care. He was alive. That was good enough.

“If he does, there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll let the guys take care of him.”

I dialed Dad’s number and he answered.

“Picnic.”

“Hey, Dad? It’s me,” I said, trying to hold it together. I realized my hand was shaking. Shock, maybe? My leg felt numb.

“Oh, Emmy,” he said, his voice full of relief. “Christ, I can’t believe it’s you. Are you all right? Fuck, that prick Hunter just left. Lucky bastard.”

Yeah, wasn’t gonna touch that comment.

“We’re okay,” I said. “Could use a ride, though.”

Dad laughed, incredulous.

“You’ve been kidnapped and that’s what you have to say for yourself? Did you escape? Where are you?”

“I’ll send you the map,” I told him. “There’s just one guy here, Skid. He’s a Devil’s Jack. We managed to beat him up and now he’s handcuffed to the porch.”

“Holy shit. Proud of you, girl. Any witnesses I should know about?”

“No, it’s all good,” I told him. “But you might want to bring the van. We may need some cargo space.”

I gave him the directions and hung up. I looked up to find Sophie watching me. She looked a little shocky, I decided, and the gun trembled in her hand. I’d take over guarding Skid in a minute, but I had one more thing to do first.

“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” I told her. “They sounded pretty happy to hear from us.”

“Was Hunter with them?” she asked.

I swallowed.

“No. The meet was already over. I guess we missed him by maybe five minutes. He’s got good luck.”

Sophie raised a brow and I met her gaze head-on, challenging her to question my story. She didn’t. I stepped off the porch and dropped the phone on the ground, stomping on it with my spiky heel. The glass shattered and crunched.

“What the hell?” Sophie demanded. “Why’d you do that?”

“GPS,” I said, which wasn’t true. I just didn’t want my dad to see that I’d called Hunter. “I don’t want the Devil’s Jacks tracing us with it, and we can’t leave it here.”

“What if we need it again?”

“We won’t. Dad and Ruger will find us. Don’t worry. By this time tomorrow it’ll be like this never happened. In fact, I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to think about it. Got me?” I added pointedly.

“Got you,” she said, narrowing her eyes. I waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t. My opinion of her went up another notch. Whatever else she might not get about MC life, Sophie seemed to understand sisterhood.

Sometimes sisters need to shut their mouths and drop it.

This was definitely one of those times.

• • •

By the time Dad and the other brothers arrived, I was exhausted.

The adrenaline had faded and my entire body was sore and stiff. The little wrestling match with Skid hadn’t helped. Now I stood on the porch watching my father roll Skid’s body over with his foot. I was trying to play it cool, but all I really wanted was to crawl into his arms and sleep for a year. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore . . .

“He’s been bleeding, but not too bad,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Don’t know if he’s passed out from a head injury or from shock. Sophie kicked his nuts to hell and back.”

Dad grunted, then stepped up onto the porch, holding out his hand for the gun I still gripped. I gave it to him and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

Suddenly I felt safe again.

I looked down at the brothers filling the yard. Ruger. Horse. Duck . . . Painter. I’d never seen them looking so serious. Bam Bam, a big man who was married to my friend Dancer, studied Skid thoughtfully. My former crush stood next to him, eyes haunted. He looked different somehow. Older. It was attractive, I realized in a distant way. Huh.

“How we gonna play this?” Bam asked. I knew what he was really saying, of course. He wanted to know if they were going to get Skid medical help or put him in the ground. I braced myself and took a deep breath, knowing my work wasn’t done quite yet.

“Not in front of the girls,” Dad muttered, and I knew the answer. So far as Dad was concerned, Skid was already dead. “Ruger, you and Painter take them, get them safe. Call the medic. He can meet you at the clubhouse. We’ll clean up here.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t kill him. You do that, there’s going to be even more fighting.”

“This is about the club, Em,” my dad said quietly. Translation—Go home and be a good girl. Let the men do the thinking for you.

Suddenly I was sick of it.

I’d gotten kidnapped because of their bullshit, and I wasn’t even supposed to know why I’d nearly died. I’d gotten myself out of it, no thanks to them, and now I was expected to just nod and smile.

Fuck that.

I popped up on my toes and whispered in Dad’s ear.

“Hunter told me about the truce and the cartel. If you kill this guy, we’re all going to suffer. I know you’re pissed, Dad, but we have to think of the club. Please. Think of me and Kit—I don’t want to live in fear.”

He stiffened.

I pulled away, looking up at him, begging with my eyes. Don’t let your ego make this decision.

He shook his head, jaw rigid. Fuck. I crossed my arms and stepped back, my plea turning to a glare. How f**king typical—the king’s pride got hurt, so now we all have to go to war? If anyone gets to make the decision, it should be me and Sophie.

Dad held my eyes for long seconds, then sighed.

“Okay, we’ll take him with us and dump him somewhere he’ll be found,” he said. “See if you can find something to bandage him up with, Bam.”

Relief crashed through me. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight.

“You’re doing the right thing, Daddy,” I whispered.

“This was club business, baby girl. You shouldn’t be worrying about things so much. That’s my job.”

His words cut through me and I stiffened. I wasn’t a f**king baby to be handed a sucker and told to go play.

Wait, where had that come from?

Dad wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t said a thousand times before, but for some reason this time it really pissed me off. This is what it feels like to be Kit, I realized, suddenly understanding her need to rebel. Oh, I didn’t like this feeling. I didn’t like it one bit.

I glanced toward the brothers. Nobody was paying attention to us. Perfect.

“Daddy, I love you, but this stopped being club business when I got kidnapped and cuffed to a bed,” I said quietly, making sure my voice didn’t carry. “That made it my business. I’m still trying to figure out what happened and what it all means, but I have a right to worry about things that might destroy my life.”

He frowned at me.

“Let’s talk about it later, baby.”

Right. I knew that tone. “Later” meant “never.”

I sighed, because I’d gotten as far as I would for now. That was okay—this wasn’t the kind of conversation you have in front of an audience, anyway. I was determined, though. I wasn’t going to just slide back into life as usual.

Everything had changed.

I’d been raised to let the men in my life tell me what to do, and look what that’d gotten me. It’d been so easy to follow Hunter away from my friends and into that alley. I’d been so f**king naive. Blind.

Never again.

From now on, I’d be making my own decisions and Dad would just have to deal with it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ONE WEEK LATER

I was right.

“We’ll talk later” meant “We won’t talk about it.”

To be fair, Dad wasn’t around much in the days following my rescue. He didn’t say where he was going, but I assumed he was off dealing with Toke and the Devil’s Jacks. I just hoped he hadn’t “dealt” with them permanently. Of course, I was expected to stay home and forget all about it.

That shit used to be okay. Not anymore.

Not that I would confront Dad directly or try to push my way into a club meeting to find out the real situation—nope, that wouldn’t accomplish anything, anyway. But it did confirm what I’d started to realize the day Sophie and I took down Skid. It was time for one Emmy Lou Hayes to get the hell out of Coeur d’Alene.

I needed to grow up and get a life.