Devil's Game (Reapers MC, #3)(27)

I decided to play a little game. I’d lie in the dark, holding her, and pretend she was my old lady for a while. Pretend we lived in a world where I could have something as beautiful as her. That I didn’t owe the Jacks everything, or that she wasn’t a Reaper.

Then I caught myself, because what the f*ck?

Christ, I didn’t want an old lady—or at least one like Em, who could think for herself. I’d signed on for someone who’d do what she was told and be thankful for it. That’d been the plan, and now it was blown to shit. If I was gonna pretend, a better fantasy would be rolling her over and screwing her brains out. Nice … Imagining myself inside her was fun for a while, but then my cock started getting pretty pissed off that we weren’t screwing her brains out for real. Considering I’d only brought a couple changes of clothing with me and I’d already soaked one pair of pants, seemed like a good idea to get some space.

I managed to get out of bed without waking her and headed downstairs to find Skid in the living room, playing Halo. An energy drink sat next to him, right next to a dusting of white powder. Guess I wasn’t the only one pulling an all-nighter.

He set down the controller and raised a brow.

“So, what kind of game you playing, bro?” he asked me. “Because something feels off to me. This bitch is your means to an end. That’s it, right?”

“I’m aware,” I said, my tone dry. “Believe me.”

“Just don’t forget whose team we’re playing for. I heard from Kelsey. Grass is stable. She says it’s not as bad as they thought when he first came in.”

“No word on Clutch?”

“Nope,” he answered.

“Em says Toke’s gone rogue. Reapers have lost control of him. If it’s the truth, we’re f*cked.”

“Think she’s messin’ with you?”

I considered the question.

“I think there’s a good chance he’s off the reservation,” I replied. “None of this makes sense. We’ve got a truce, the Reapers voted on it. Shit with Gracie happened a long time ago—if this was a club hit, I don’t think they’d have bothered talking truce in the first place. Retribution’s worthless if you don’t claim it.”

“Asshole couldn’t have f*cked Burke over better if we’d planned it out with him,” Skid said, sighing. “We don’t shut this down, it could take him out. All of us f*cked then.”

I didn’t bother responding, because it was the simple truth. We had one shot at revolution in the club. Mason had already given Burke the heads-up—his cancer was spreading. The national president of the Devil’s Jacks MC was on his way out. He wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer, which meant Burke had to make his move soon or it was all over.

This was our chance to take the Devil’s Jacks back, make the club back into what it’d been created to be. A brotherhood of riders. Not a bunch of cheap thugs looking to line their own pockets. We’d hoped for more time to consolidate our position, but if the truce held, we’d have the votes we needed. The charters down south were desperate for help keeping out the cartel—help we couldn’t give them if we had to fight a two-front war with the Reapers.

“Hey, bro?” Skid asked.

“What?”

“Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure even if we manage to pull some kind of peace out of the fire, you won’t get to keep your pretty toy upstairs.”


“Yeah,” I muttered, letting myself fall back into a chair. I scratched my stomach and eyed his can of Monster. I needed some of that shit. “It’s f*cked.”

Silence fell between us.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he asked. “ ‘It’s f*cked’? Where’s the big plan? You’re the one always thinkin’ things through, telling us we need a strategy.”

“The plan isn’t coming together this time,” I said. “Do you still think we can pull it off?”

“Pull off what? Surviving tomorrow? I give us sixty-forty. Feelin’ optimistic.”

I laughed, because he was probably right. I’d get Em through it, though. No way that pretty girl was gettin’ caught in the crossfire. I wasn’t quite sure why I felt so strongly about keeping her safe, but I did.

“Tomorrow I’m going to meet with Hayes,” I said. “Burke’s checking out his story, maybe our sources down south can say whether it’s true he doesn’t know where Toke is. Based on Em’s reaction, I think there’s a pretty good chance he’s gone rogue.”

“How do you know she’s not spouting the party line?” Skid said. “I think we’ve established your dick’s doing the thinking when it comes to her.”

“You’re probably right there,” I admitted. “But I believe she’s telling the truth. According to her, he’s been on the run for a full week. He sliced her up at a party last weekend. She’s got a knife wound—someone cut her.”

That caught Skid’s attention.

“Damn,” he muttered. “What the hell is going on in that club? Hayes is serious as shit about his girls, no way he’ll let that stand.”

“Exactly,” I replied. “That’s why I’m not ready to give up on the truce just yet. If she’s telling the truth, they want his head as bad as we do. But what the f*ck do I know? She could be setting me up.”