Reaper
I burst into the clubhouse and take in the damage those bastard cops had left in their wake. Jase hadn’t been wrong when he said they’d turned the whole place upside down. The floor is littered with broken bottles and drawers. Papers are scattered every which way. Even the furniture hadn’t survived their “search.” Cushions are slashed, stuffing exploding from them. Couches are flipped upside down. It looks like a goddamn bomb went off in here.
“Fuck me,” I breathe, trying to wrap my head around the ruin in front of me.
“Fuckin’ trashed the place,” Jase says, coming up behind me.
“What the fuck happened?”
Jase sighs and bends over the fridge, which is now lying on its side, and wrenches the door open to pull out a beer. He twists off the cap and tosses it into the wreckage surrounding us. “Was just about to head home when the bastards showed up. Had a warrant to search the premises and everything.” He tips the bottle back and downs a few swallows. “They had us all on the ground, hands over our fuckin’ heads. I didn’t recognize a single one of ’em.”
“What were they looking for?”
He shrugs. “Don’t have a fuckin’ clue. The guy in charge seemed to have a pretty big hard-on for Ryk, though. They weren’t even finished tossin’ the place before they arrested him and were draggin’ his ass to the station.”
I instantly think back to the cop from the other night, and his thinly veiled threat that he would be seeing me real soon. “Did you get a name for this guy? The one who wanted Ryker?”
Jase shakes his head. “Something French sounding. Couldn’t pronounce it if I tried.”
“Try anyway.”
“Bell something. Belanger, I think.”
I search the recesses of my memory for the name, but come up with nothing. I’ve heard the name, of course, but can’t think of a single person I’ve ever come across that would be connected to the Kings’ sordid past or any run-ins with law enforcement.
“So what now, VP?” I ask, turning to Jase. With our president in the clink, it’s now up to Jase to make the decisions in his absence.
Jase slides a hand down his face, letting out a long, weary sigh. “I guess now, we wait. Not much else we can do at this point. Charlie went to the station with Bosco to see what needs to be done to get Ryker released, but they’re gonna drag every second possible out of him.” He shakes his head. “Just wish I knew what the fuck they were after.”
Just then, Jase’s phone goes off. Slipping it out of his pocket, he glances at the screen and jabs a finger at it, accepting the call. “Charles? Everything cool?”
Knowing that Charles is Jase’s nickname for Charlotte, I freeze, my eyes glued to him. His eyes widen in surprise. “Shit,” he mutters, then it’s me he’s looking at. “We got it, darlin’. I’ll send Reaper.”
There’s a pause, and I watch as he smirks a sly smirk that I’m not sure I like. “Oh, I’m sure,” he drawls. “Stay strong, Charles. Our boy has nothin’ to worry about.”
Disconnecting the call, he slides the phone back into his pocket and pats me on the shoulder. “Have I got a job for you.”
The apparent glee in his voice has me narrowing my eyes. Fucker is up to something. “What?”
“Ryk was supposed to pick Anna up from work tonight. She’s stranded and waiting for some big hot biker to come get her.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Send one of the fuckin’ prospects, man. I ain’t got time for that bitch.”
“Sorry, Reap. Prospects have their hands full tonight,” he says, motioning around the ruined clubhouse with a grin. “You’re on deck.”
I glare at him for a beat, knowing I have no choice but to go pick her up and wanting to kick his ass for assigning me the job. My glare doesn’t even faze him. Still smiling, he cocks a questioning eyebrow, but says nothing.
“Dick,” I growl, then turn and stalk out of the clubhouse.
As I take off for the Pig’s Ear, my anger grows, not wanting that bitch on the back of my bike. A man’s bike is sacred. You don’t just let any random slut ride behind you. I can’t believe I’m even doing this.
If it hadn’t been for Anna, Mouse would still be alive. All the shit that had gone down since we tangled with the Devil’s Rejects on her behalf would never have happened. Our old prez, Gunner, and his old lady would never have been fucking murdered in their own goddamn home. Her actions had set off a chain reaction that had ruined so many fucking lives. How am I supposed to just let that shit go?
Anna
My knees threaten to buckle as he looms over me. I have to force myself to stay still as his hand comes up, his fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. It wouldn’t be good to piss him off. I’ve seen what Shiv is like when he’s pissed, and he has that name for a reason. Where the hell is Ryker?
“You miss me?” His gold tooth glints in the beam of the streetlight. I know he means to be seductive, but the only thing his voice is making me feel is terrified.
I lick my lips and fight the quiver in my voice as I finally meet his eyes. “Uh…yeah. How you been, Shiv?” My gaze flicks over his shoulder to the road behind him, despair threatening to pull me under when I see the emptiness of the night. No cars, no pedestrians; not even the little old homeless woman that had startled me just moments before. I’m on my own.
“Been a busy man, Banana. Wait’ll you try this new shit I got now.” He digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out a tiny baggie with a single pill inside. I sway as the blood drains from my face and stare at that pill, tiny and white, unable to tear my gaze away from it. That one pill could ruin everything I have worked so hard for, but it would feel so incredible as it did.
I bite my lip and blink down at the tiny temptation. “I can’t,” I whisper, without looking up.
Shiv waves it enticingly in front of me. “Oh, come on. You know you want to,” he says in an eerie singsong voice. “This shit is like nothin’ you’ve ever tried before. You’ll love it.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t have a chance to respond, when the sound of Ryker’s motorcycle approaching breaks through the spell that the pretty white pill had put on me. “Shit,” Shiv mutters, stuffing the baggie back into his pocket.
I move to put some distance between us, thanking God, the sun, and shirtless Channing Tatum that he’s finally here. Except, it’s not him. In fact, seeing Reaper’s motorcycle sitting at the curb, his cold gaze fixed in our direction, I debate whether I’d be better off taking my chances with Shiv.
Reaper’s shadow falls over us as he approaches, with an alertness in his eyes as he takes in Shiv’s closeness. “We got a problem here?”
My scalp prickles as he looks to me, waiting for an answer. Pasting on my best false smile, I shake my head and pray that he buys it. He doesn’t. I can tell by the look on his face, but he doesn’t push it either, which is good. I don’t need Shiv’s blood on my hands to add to my already mile high mound of guilt.
Reaper huffs out an annoyed breath. “Then let’s go. I don’t got all fuckin’ day.”
I think back to what he’d said to me the other night. I won’t stop until you’re gone. Fear grips my heart yet again, and the desire to flee almost carries me screaming off into the night as I force myself to walk behind him. Get it together, Anna.
It was time to come good on at least one of the promises I’d made Knox before I left Montreal. Do one thing that scares you every single day. Well, Reaper definitely scares me, so hopefully, this is good enough. Knox was convinced that if I faced my fears one at a time, that I would gain complete and total control over my circumstances, and my inner demons.
“Bye, Shiv,” I say quietly as I pass. He winks at me and heads for his rusted sedan in the darkest corner of the parking lot, leaving me alone with Reaper. I never thought I’d say this, but for once, I miss Ryker and his blatant dislike for me. At least I don’t have to worry about him breaking my neck and rolling me into the nearest drainage ditch. Reaper, I’m not so sure.
“Where’s Ryker?” I finally manage as he hands me my helmet.
“Indisposed,” he growls, starting up his ride. I wonder for a moment if he’s always so angry, or if his hatred of me is the reason he always looks like a pissed off grizzly bear every time I see him.
As carefully as I can, I try to steady myself on the bike seat as I swing my leg over, trying my best not to touch him. It doesn’t work, though. My movement and awkward positioning propels me forward, and sheer reflex has me gripping his shoulder so I don’t land on my face.
I feel his muscles bunch up beneath my hand, but he says nothing. He barely waits for my ass to hit the seat before he’s back on the road. I scoot back as far as I can and rest my hands on my knees, loosely gripping the hem of his leather cut between my fingertips. He moves swiftly through the deserted streets, and with each bump and turn, I fear I might go flying off, but still I avoid touching him as much as possible.
When we hit the last streetlight in town that opens up to the country road that will lead us to Ryker’s house, he pulls the bike to a stop and I hear his growl over the loud rumble of the engine. Before I know it, he reaches back, grabs my wrists and yanks me forward, wrapping my arms around his torso, forcing me to hold on tight.
When the light turns green, I’m thankful for my new grip. As we drive, I don’t budge. I don’t want to make the mistake of angering him by accidentally holding on too tight or brushing up against him. I can’t help but notice his size, though. The man is huge.
I’d known that already, of course, but being pressed against his wide, strong back, I find myself feeling like one of those tiny little animal backpacks I see kids wearing at the mall. I feel tiny. I can feel how muscular he is, but I don’t dare take advantage of my closeness to explore him. I just watch the road over his shoulder and count down the seconds until I can get off this bike.
When we finally turn into Ryker’s driveway, Reaper pulls up to the front step, places his feet on the ground and waits. He doesn’t turn off his motorcycle. He doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t offer me a hand. I awkwardly tumble over the side, spilling myself onto the walkway and hand him back his helmet.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, trying to catch his gaze.
When he finally turns toward me, his eyes refuse to meet mine. Instead, choosing to look over my shoulder and avoid me completely. “Didn’t do it for you,” he says. “Did it for my prez.” And then he’s gone.