Reaper's Fire
With that, we walked back out into the main room, leaving the remaining Nighthawks to discuss their situation.
“That went well,” Ruger said quietly.
“You think?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Nobody tried to shoot anyone. That’s generally a good sign.”
“Yeah, I guess if your measure of success is nobody getting shot, we pulled it off.”
“Bro, not gettin’ shot is one of my top priorities,” he replied, flashing me a grin. “Right up there with not gettin’ stabbed. It’s a continuum.”
Pic pulled out his phone, and I figured he’d be calling Shade to give him an update. I decided to step outside, see if the prospects were still there. To my surprise, they were. Cody was polishing Horse’s bike while the big biker stood over him, glaring.
“Piece of shit didn’t even volunteer,” he said, nodding toward the kid. “I had to remind him.”
Hell, I was just impressed he hadn’t run off.
“They’re ready for us,” Taz said, sticking his head back out the door. I walked back into the chapel to find Cord and his brothers waiting, their faces serious. Pic nodded toward him respectfully.
“You make your decision?”
“Looks like we’re gonna patch over,” Cord said. “I won’t lie—this feels weird.”
“Guess the important question is whether it feels wrong,” Pic said quietly. Cord shook his head.
“What happened here—it’s nothing to be proud of. A fresh start is for the best.”
“Will the brothers in prison be on board?” I asked.
Cord nodded.
“Nobody has been happy with the way things went,” he admitted. “Pipes started talking to Painter for a reason. He was scared. We all knew if the Reapers turned on us, the boys inside would die. We can’t survive without you.”
“Goes both ways,” Picnic said. “Painter will be losing his parole. He’ll need Pipes at his back, because our coverage down there is minimal at best.”
Cord nodded, then look around. “So how is this gonna work?”
“Gage will go nomad,” Picnic said. “For now he’ll be acting as your president. The situation still needs to be formalized by the rest of the Reapers before you get your colors, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. We haven’t forgotten who you were before Marsh took over.”
“My brother Taz will stay here with Gage,” Hunter chimed in, nodding toward the big man standing next to him. “Officially, he’ll be nomad, too. Unofficially, he’ll serve as sergeant at arms. He’s got one job—make sure Gage stays safe. Gage gets hurt, things will escalate in an unpleasant way.”
“Happy to be here,” Taz said, grinning and cracking his knuckles. “You guys like beer? I could use a beer.”
“We might be able to help you out with that,” Tamarack said, a smile cracking his face. “But I’m sorry to say there’s a serious shortage of pussy. Marsh’s crazy sister ran off all the good ones. We’ll have to work on rebuilding our stock.”
“Anyone seen Talia?” I asked, thinking of Tinker.
“Bitch knew better than to come here without her brother,” Cord said. “If she’s smart, she already left town.”
“Let me know if you find her,” I said. “Oh, and for the record? Tinker Garrett’s under my protection, which means she’s under your protection.”
That startled them.
“Seriously?” Cord asked. “Woman’s gorgeous, but I hear she likes ’em younger. There’s this video—”
I held up a hand.
“Yeah, from now on, nobody talks about the video,” I said. “Or Tinker. I hear anything disrespectful, I’ll take it very personally. We clear?”
Tamarack nodded.
“She’s a solid,” he said. “Knew her in school. You could do a lot worse.”
“Beer,” Picnic said. “We need beer. The rest of this is details.”
“What about the prospects?” Cord asked. “Are they Reapers prospects now?”
Pic and I looked at each other.
“Let’s give that some thought,” I said. “I gotta admit, they’re not promising. But they’re also both still outside. Neither of them made a run for it.”
“We’ll deal with them later,” Pic said. “It’s a lot to run by national. For now we’ll consider them extended hangarounds. We can’t figure out all this shit in one night. Usually I’d say it’s time for a party, but—”
“There may not be many of us, but we’re prepared to show hospitality,” Cord said, breaking in. “The old ladies had some contingency plans, just in case this didn’t end up in hellfire and death.”
Pic laughed.
“Might want to call them, then,” he said. “Let ’em know you’re still alive.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MONDAY AFTERNOON
TINKER
I’d heard Cooper—no, Gage—pull up to the house around three in the morning. Several bikes, actually, and a whole group of men who clomped up the stairs to his place. Not that they went out of their way to be noisy, but leather boots make a lot of noise in an old building.
When I’d left that morning, I managed not to ram my Mustang into his bike on the way to work—mostly because I love my Mustang and didn’t want to scratch her up. When I took Dad to see the doctor Seattle and with my attorney, I’d need to look into evicting his ass, I decided. Carrie had been right about that. It was one thing to give him the benefit of the doubt when all I had was gossip. Once a man tells you himself that he’s been lying all along, it’s a lot harder to feel guilty about tossing him out.
Now it was four in the afternoon, and I’d finished work early so I could pick up the food for dinner with Carrie and Darren. Make that Carrie, Darren, and Joel, because apparently Carrie had texted him earlier that day, inviting him to come along just for fun. I think her logic went something like this:
Gage was bad.
Joel wasn’t Gage.
Therefore, Joel must be good.
Pushy as hell, all things considered. I’d always hated that about Carrie. Hated it and loved it at the same time, because no matter how weird things might get, I knew I could count on her pushing me to do the right thing. Tonight, though . . . she’d played me to perfection. From the time I was a kid, we’d always had room for an extra chair around the table. My mother would cut off her own hand before turning down an extra guest, and Carrie knew damned well I’d nod and smile when Joel showed up rather than seem inhospitable.