Devil's Game (Reapers MC, #3)(37)

I listened, stunned. What was this, some kind of trick?

“I’m telling you this because it’s our last chance, babe,” he said quietly, obviously reading my thoughts. “This gets out, Burke—that’s our guy—loses his shot at the presidency. We bet everything on the truce with the Reapers, on a complete change of direction for the club. There are others who want war, and Toke will give it to them. Mason, our old president, held on as long as he could, trying to give us the time we needed to pull it off. He can’t hold on any longer—cancer. Hasn’t been able to ride for nearly a month. We don’t put this problem to rest—today—it’s all over. That means war between the clubs, babe. The cartel will move up from California and we won’t be able to stop them. They’ll destroy the Jacks and then they’ll come after the Reapers.”

Wow. This was way bigger than I’d ever imagined, and I wished to hell I knew what to do with it.

“Call my dad and tell him,” I whispered, searching his face. “Maybe he can work with you. I don’t have anything for you, Hunter. And if I did, I still wouldn’t talk. It’s not my call to make.”

“Not gonna happen,” he replied, shaking his head. “Not unless you tell me what side he’s on. Is he for peace with the Jacks? What’s his agenda?”

“I have no idea,” I replied, thankful for once that it was the truth. I couldn’t betray my club if I didn’t know anything. “Dad doesn’t share club business with me.”

My words hung heavy between us—Hunter had just shared far too much club business with me. He’d trusted me. Why? Because dead girls can’t tell stories?

“Are you going to kill me?” I asked quietly, subdued.

He reached up and cradled my face with his big hand, wiping a thumb across my cheek. Shit, was I crying? Goddammit.

“No, sweetheart,” he replied, his expression impossible to read. “By the time you’re loose, it’ll be over. Worth the risk, if you can give me any information to make this go smoother. I want a way out, babe.”

He sounded so sincere. Shit. Why did I keep falling for this? Remember how he used you and took pictures of you naked? This man is evil!

“Why did you start talking to me?” I asked, unable to resist. Hell, why not pick at the scab? See if I couldn’t make myself hurt just a little more, because I’m masochistic that way … “Why the whole fake romance thing? I understand keeping tabs, but I don’t see the advantage in getting tangled up with me.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile.

“We wanted peace,” he said. “Seriously, that’s still what we want. We can handle the cartel on our southern border if we’re not fighting with the Reapers up north. If my faction pulls it off, we’ll have the votes we need to take the national presidency. That means we can turn the club back in the direction it needs to go.”

“But what does that have to do with me?”

“We wanted you to seal the truce,” he said, sighing. “Nothing horrible. If you fell for me and I was your old man, that’d be motivation for your dad to push peace between the clubs. He might not be a national officer, but he’s a major power broker.”

I studied his face, confused.

“Your big plan was I’d become your old lady?” I asked. “How was this supposed to play out long term? What was the exit strategy, or were you just planning to dump me once the cartel was beat back?”

He frowned.

“No,” he said. “I planned on you being my old lady.”

I shook my head, starting to get pissed off again.

“You said there was nothing real between us,” I snapped. “You made it pretty damned clear, actually. You were just playing me the whole time.”

“No, I said I wanted to f*ck you,” he replied. “I hate to crap on all your fairy-tale fantasies, but you don’t have to love a woman to make her your property. Hell, I already told you I don’t believe in love. But you know what club life is like, you’ve got good connections. We’d have done okay—more than most couples have going for them. I was lookin’ forward to it, to be honest. The fact that you’re smart and I like talkin’ to you didn’t exactly hurt, either.”

“And were you ever planning to fill me in on this? Or just romance me and use me?”

He didn’t answer.

“I need a minute,” I said, overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to think. Clearly, Hunter was an even bigger * than I’d imagined, which was impressive, considering his track record. I felt him stand up, and then the bed sank next to me and his arm came around my shoulder. I threw it off as water filled my eyes. Shit. I hate crying and the last thing I needed was to show him how much power he had to hurt me.

Unfortunately, my nose betrayed me and I sniffed.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and then he grabbed me, pulling me up and onto his lap as he leaned back against the headboard. His arms came around me and he pressed my head to his chest. I burst into tears. It felt good. Cathartic. Everything had fallen to shit and yet, for reasons I couldn’t quite fathom, having him hold me felt good.

Eventually the crying storm died down, and I forced myself to pull it together. So I had a moment of weakness. It happens. Didn’t mean I was going to give him any information about my dad or my club. No matter how nice it felt to have his hand rubbing my back softly.