Devil's Game (Reapers MC, #3)(71)

She shook her head slowly, but she handed over the phone and I hit the callback button.

“Baby, we don’t have time to argue,” Picnic said.

“It’s Hunter.”

Silence.

“What are you doing with my daughter?” he demanded, his voice like ice. He didn’t give anything away, but he had to be scared for his children. Last time we’d talked like this, I’d threatened to kill her. Hell, I completely understood why he hated me after that. Sometimes I hated me, too.

“I’m trying to take her somewhere safe,” I said, my voice steady. Unthreatening, but not showing any weakness, either. “I think the best place—at least for tonight—is with the Reapers, but I need more information. We’ve got two men dead. If that wasn’t you, now would be a good time to tell me. My brothers will want blood.”

More silence. Then he spoke.

“It wasn’t us. We’ve got our own casualties. One dead, two in the ER. Someone took potshots at four clubhouses, including Portland. Care to tell me what you and your brothers were doin’ earlier tonight?”

Your daughter, up against a wall in a dirty alley.

Yeah, probably best not to mention that.

“The Jacks aren’t behind this. It’s the cartel. Has to be. Unless you know another crew we’ve both pissed off? Because someone executed our national president tonight, and fingers are already pointing your direction.”

“Fuck me …” Picnic said slowly. Silence fell between us as we processed the situation. “You playin’ games with me?”

“I wish to hell this was a game,” I said. I reached out and pulled Em into my side, eyes sweeping the street for danger. I wanted her behind walls. “I want to take her home, Pic. Only way that happens is if you give me safe passage. No f*ckin’ way I’m letting her go to a hotel without protection, so if I can’t take her to her people, she’ll be staying with me.”

“She with you voluntarily?”

“Yup,” I replied.

“Shit,” he muttered. Then he sighed. “Daughters are a curse. The other one isn’t even answering her phone … At least Em’s safe right now, although I hate to give you credit for that. Can’t say the same about Kit.”

“We’re in the open here,” I told him, losing patience. “No reason they’d know where I am, but I’m not comfortable just standing on the street. Tell me where to take her.”

“Bring her to Cookie,” Picnic said. “I’ll call Deke, he’ll make sure you get in and back out without trouble.”

About f*ckin’ time.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for protecting her. You get her home safe, I’ll consider it a personal favor.”

I felt a grim smile steal across my face. He wouldn’t thank me if he had any clue what I’d been doing to his baby girl fifteen minutes ago … Or what I had every intention of doing to her again as soon as I got her alone in a room with a bed. Little Emmy had a trip around the world in her future.

I shook my head, trying to clear the mental image. Damn.

“I don’t need your favors,” I told Picnic. “Tell me about Kit. You can’t get hold of her?”

“She’s not answering her phone,” he muttered. “Em says she took off with some guy, but she doesn’t know what he looks like. Fuck, Kit drives me crazy. Odds are good this prick’s got nothin’ to do with our situation, but I’m not gonna breathe easy until we find her.”

“My sister saw the guy,” I said. “Want me to have her call you?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

I hung up and handed the phone back to Em. Her eyes were haunted.

“How’d it go?” she asked. I shrugged.

“Hard to tell. Not as bad as it could’ve—he says it’s safe to take you home, and I believe him. He wants you behind walls more than he wants me dead. Let’s go.”

I swung a leg over my bike and she hopped up behind me. A true child of the MC, she didn’t think twice about climbing on in her little skirt. I kicked the scoot to life and we took off.





EM


Cookie’s small front yard was full of motorcycles. Like, full of motorcycles. Half the Portland brothers must’ve been there, which wasn’t a good sign.

Hunter still insisted on walking me to the door, despite the fact that two prospects stood in the yard eyeing him. In theory this was safe. Dad should’ve called ahead, made sure they knew he was coming … But walking into a Reaper stronghold with a Devil’s Jack felt like tempting fate.

Deke himself opened the door. He and Hunter were about the same height, although Deke’s build was heavier. Seeing them together, I was struck by how similar they were. Not in appearance … No, more in the way they held themselves, casually poised for violence, faces blank. I’d heard rumors about Deke over the years. They said he made people who caused trouble for the club go away. I glanced at Hunter with new eyes, realizing he’d never actually told me what he did for the Jacks.

Did he make people go away, too?

“Thanks for bringing her home,” Deke said, reaching for my arm. Hunter met his gaze, then took my chin and turned my head toward him. He leaned over and kissed me, slow and deliberate.