Devil's Game (Reapers MC, #3)(61)

Cookie impressed the hell out of me.

“The monkeys were there,” Silvie said, pointing to the closet fearfully. I flipped on the bedroom light and walked over to the door, opening it.

“No ghost monkeys,” I declared, taking a few seconds to examine every inch, knowing it would make a difference to her. I even checked behind the hanging clothes.

Wasn’t the first time I’d had to inspect Silvie’s closet for monsters.

“Spray,” she demanded.

I coated the small space thoroughly with air freshener.

“There we go,” I said. “No way ghost monkeys or any other creatures will get in there now.”

“Thank you,” Silvie whispered, wrapping her arms around my legs.

“Any time,” I muttered, fighting back a yawn. Shit, I needed some coffee. “Let’s go find something to eat.”

“Mommy’s in the kitchen talking to Uncle Deke.”

Interesting.

So much for Cookie sleeping in.

“Uncle Deke” came to visit a lot. He was the president of the Portland Reapers chapter, and he’d been looking out for Cookie since she moved down from Coeur d’Alene. I couldn’t tell whether he was just taking good care of a brother’s widow or there was more going on.

If so, I was pretty sure Cookie hadn’t noticed him.

I walked in to find them sitting at the kitchen table, coffee cups between them. A box of doughnuts sat on the counter.

I didn’t know Deke very well. He was probably around thirty years old, although hard to tell for sure. I knew he’d been in the Marines before joining the club, so I figured he understood what Cookie was going through better than most. He was a big guy, powerfully built, and one of his arms had been burned pretty bad. Now scars roped it, although it’d missed his hand. Some guys would keep that covered up.

I’d never seen Deke in a long-sleeved shirt.

“These doughnuts for anyone?” I asked, drifting toward the counter.

“Help yourself,” Deke answered. He and Cookie had fallen silent, and I wondered what they’d been talking about.

“Silvie, baby, let’s go get you dressed,” Cookie said. She smiled at me, the hint of sadness she always wore these days firmly in place. Even her hair seemed different since Bagger’s death. The wild, red corkscrew curls were somehow flatter.

She took Silvie’s hand and walked her out, leaving me alone with Deke.

“How’s shit with you?” he asked. I shrugged and smiled.

“Is that you asking or my dad?”

“More me bein’ polite than anything,” he said, his face unreadable. “You know we’re here if you need us, but I got better things to do than babysit. Glad someone’s in the house with Cookie, though.”

“Yeah, I’m happy to be here,” I said. “She’s doing me a huge favor. I won’t be able to work much once my program gets started, so keeping costs down is pretty important. Win-win for both of us.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, offering him a quick look of apology.

“Tell Cookie I said good-bye,” he said, standing. I nodded, then looked at my phone.

HUNTER: How you doing?



Shit. I glanced at Deke, but he wasn’t paying attention to me at all. Good, because I was pretty sure my guilty vibes were strong enough for him to sense if he bothered.

ME: Good. I thought we weren’t going to do this anymore.



I’d told Hunter to stop contacting me at least once a day since the party at his house. I suppose it made me a horrible person, but each time he got back in touch anyway, I felt the thrill all the way through my body.

HUNTER: Yeah … about that. I need to see you

ME: Skid was right. I wont be part of ruining you

HUNTER: Skid doesn’t know everything. Its more complicated. Thats my problem to deal with.

ME: No

HUNTER: Tonight

ME: I’m babysitting Silvie tonight

HUNTER: Then call when she’s asleep

ME: I’ll think about it



I thought about it, all right. I thought about it all day as I filled in at Cookie’s coffee shop. I continued to think about it while I made Silvie dinner (Kraft macaroni, because that shit is good) and while we had a bath (because that shit is messy). We checked for ghost monkeys and I monster-proofed the bedroom before tucking her in for the night. Then I went out into the living room and turned on the TV, still wondering if I should call Hunter.

Probably not.

Absolutely not.

I called Kit instead.

She didn’t answer. Not a huge surprise, considering it was a Friday night. Kit wasn’t really a stay-at-home-on-the-weekend kind of girl, and apparently she’d met some new man in one of her classes last Tuesday. Kit also wasn’t a wait-and-see kind of girl, so I’d be willing to bet she was putting him through his paces right now.

At ten thirty I turned off the TV and changed into a tank and some boxer shorts before slipping into bed. I considered my Kindle. Then I grabbed my phone and texted Hunter.

ME: What’s up?

HUNTER: At the house, hanging out. Clutch has a few girls over. Says its important to celebrate life or some such shit. Think he just wants to get laid as many times as possible while the pity f*ck thing still works for him