Reaper's Fire

“No,” I said shortly, making a snap decision.

“No?” he asked.

“Just . . . no,” I repeated. “I had fun, but the thing with Talia? That’s a deal breaker. I can’t have a crazy woman randomly attacking me all the time.”

“I gave her money and told her to get out of town,” he said, silently acknowledging the point.

“Oh, and I’m sure she’ll just go happily, because criminally insane people always listen to reason.”

Gage cocked his head. “You trying to start a fight? Because I can think of better ways to work off energy.”

“God, are all men so completely clueless?” I mused. “Brandon’s on my case tonight, too.”

“That fucker’s bothering you again?” he asked, freezing. “I’ll take care of him.”

I snorted. “You know, that’s kind of the problem.”

“What?”

“You’re too much like him.”

“What the fuck?” Gage asked, stepping toward me. He caught my shoulders, forcing me to turn toward him. “I am nothing like your ex-husband.”

“You’re both pushy as hell,” I snapped back at him. “He’s trying to protect me from you, did you know that? He’s been investigating you. Says you’re a criminal and that your club is a gang. Is that true, Gage? Don’t bother answering—you’re too good of a liar for me to believe you anyway.”

“Stop it,” he snarled, pulling me into his body. Then his fingers were in my hair, jerking my head back, forcing me to look at him.

“Stop what?” I asked with a sneer. “Telling the truth? Stop being afraid your crazy-ass girlfriend is going to gut me? Or did you want me to stop thinking for myself and do whatever you say, because I have to admit, I’m over it. If I wanted a man who gives me orders, I’d just go back to Brandon. At least I don’t have to worry about him getting arrested all the time.”

Gage’s dark eyes flashed. His jaw tightened, and for an instant I wondered if I’d gone too far.

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” he said. “His hands aren’t exactly squeaky-clean.”

I stilled, his eyes boring through mine as I processed what I’d just heard.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“You heard what I said.”

My thoughts raced as the implications hit me. Those fancy suits of his . . . he always said his family had money, but when we’d first gotten married, he’d only been able to afford a small ring. And the ring was important to him—he liked the idea of his wife wearing a rock. That’s why he kept upgrading it.

He’d been calling me, desperate to get back together.

My lawyer couldn’t seem to get the financial paperwork from his lawyer.

“Oh shit,” I said, eyes widening. “Oh shit . . . how long?”

“Years,” he replied. “At least, according to my sources. We’re still looking into it.”

“How is he getting away with it?” I asked, shaking my head slowly. Then I had a new thought. “Wait. What about our house?”

“What about it?”

“Did he pay for it with . . . you know.”

“No idea,” Gage said. “And no idea how long he’s been dirty. All I know is the word’s out—Brandon Graham is for sale.”

“But he’s a crusader,” I said, still not quite believing him. “I mean, he’s prosecuted motorcycle gangs like yours. He really believes in this stuff. A whole bunch of bikers went to jail—he won. And what about that serial-killer guy? He’s a hero, at least that’s how they see him in Seattle.”

“I said he was dishonest, not stupid,” he said. “A man like that with political aspirations? He’s not going to throw the big cases. It’s the littler ones. Going soft on a DUI, pleading people out with time served and probation. If he was obvious about it, they’d have caught him by now. Once he announces his campaign they’ll be looking closer. He can’t afford a loose end like you.”

I leaned into him, dropping my forehead against his chest. All of a sudden the pieces fell together, and I felt like a moron—I’d just been too busy building my business to notice.

“I’m an idiot,” I said miserably. Gage’s hand started rubbing my back slowly as I tried to process everything.

“No, you just don’t think like a criminal.”

I sighed, then looked back up at him. “And you do?”

Gage held my gaze steadily.

“Remember my promise not to lie?” he asked. I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach. “I’ve committed crimes. Some of them I’d do again, given the chance. Others I’m ashamed of. But I’ve never put an innocent man in prison because he wouldn’t pay me off.”

I swallowed, feeling sick to my stomach.

“Brandon’s done that? I mean, it’s one thing to let a guilty man go, but to set someone up . . . ?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Gage said sadly. “It’s happened to men I know, and it happens more than you’d like to think. Bikers are easy targets—we scare juries. Your ex has used that in the past, at least according to my sources. Those high-profile club cases helped put him on the map. I didn’t make the connection at first. My brothers put it together for me.”

“How long have you known?”

“Not long,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, hugging me close. It felt good. Warm. Safe.

“I don’t think I’m ever getting married again,” I muttered, wishing I could just close my eyes and make it all go away. Travel back in time, go to a different college. Marry some nice guy who sold insurance for a living. “Who’d have thought he could get even worse? I mean, for real—what else is he hiding?”

Gage gave a soft laugh.

“Does it matter?” he asked. “You’ll be free of him soon. If your lawyer can’t pull it off for you, ours will. He’s a fucking shark.”

I shivered and he pulled me closer.

His phone gave a chime in his pocket. A loud one. Then it started buzzing.

“You better check that,” I said, trying to pull away. “It’s late—usually people don’t get in touch this late unless it’s an emergency.”