Reaper's Legacy (Reapers MC, #2)(106)

Thinking about it made me feel sick.

I could just ask him. There were things he wouldn’t tell me, but I didn’t think he’d lie. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

I pulled up to the Armory about an hour and a half before the ceremony was supposed to start. There were cars everywhere, and bikes, too. The girls had been busy that morning decorating. I saw Painter as I pulled up, and he raised a hand in a friendly wave. I walked around the Armory and let Noah join the pack of children running wild out there, because the courtyard was off bounds. They were busy setting up the reception in there.

Picnic leaned back against the wall, watching the kids with a thoughtful look on his face. Then he saw me and waved me over.

“How you doing?” he asked. I shrugged.

“Pretty good, I guess,” I said. Looking everywhere but his face, I managed to choke out something I’d meant to say the night before. “Thanks for helping me. I mean, last weekend.”

“No worries, never happened,” he said, cocking his head and studying my face. “But I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Sure,” I agreed, because I owed him in a big way.

“Do you know what happened between Em and Hunter?” he asked bluntly. “She’s not herself, and she won’t say shit to me. That’s not normal—she’s always been my girl, the one who’d tell me everything. Not her sister. Now she’s closed off.”

I sighed and looked into his face. His blue eyes held concern, and I saw how much it hurt him to ask.

“I don’t know,” I said. “She was alone with him the first night, and then again for an hour the next day. She never told me what happened, but I don’t think he raped her, if that’s what you’re after. She didn’t seem like a victim. Em was pissed at him—really pissed. That’s about all I can tell you.”

“More’n she’s said so far,” he replied. His mouth tightened. “She’s upstairs with Marie. You might as well go up, too. They’re like a bunch of f*ckin’ harpies. I tried to go up and talk to Em earlier and they wouldn’t let me in the room.”

“I need to keep an eye on Noah.”

Picnic glanced toward the pack of kids running through the grass.

“He’s not goin’ anywhere,” he said. “Plenty of adults out here already. You should be with Marie.”

“I don’t even know her that well,” I protested. “I feel kind of strange …”

“Honey, you’re in this club as deep as any of us at this point,” he replied, his voice commanding. “Hard to get much deeper. Might as well have some of the fun, too.”

He smiled and I found myself struck once again at how handsome he was for an old guy.

“Okay, I’ll go see how they’re doing.”

“Have fun,” he told me. “And keep an eye on Em. If you can think of any way for me to help her, let me know.”

“Of course.”

I found Marie up on the third floor in one of the bedrooms.

Maggs had discovered me in the kitchen and recruited me to help her haul up beer. Apparently Marie had decided that marrying Horse completely sober wasn’t the world’s greatest idea. As her girlfriends, we were required to join her, because that’s what friends do.

Let it never be said I’ve abandoned someone in their time of need.

We lugged the beer up the stairs, Maggs telling me that she’d never seen Marie more beautiful … or more stressed out. I heard her yelling before we reached the room, something about being a grown-up and wanting to make her own decisions. I swung the door open and dropped the beer on the floor with a clanking of bottles.

Marie stood in the center of the room, wearing a gorgeous white dress—very classic-looking, with a sweetheart neckline, a narrow waist to show off her figure, and a sweeping gown. Her brown hair was pinned up, cascading down in a riot of curls, and she wore flowers woven through it. No veil.

I guess she’d gotten her fill of white tulle during the limo ride.

“I love you!” she yelled when she saw me, although I wasn’t sure she even noticed who I was. Nope, she zoned in on the beer, grabbing one and popping the top off using her engagement ring as a church key. She chugged almost the entire bottle, then set it down and turned to face her mother defiantly.

“My daughter is not wearing black leather for her wedding,” Lacey proclaimed, waving the offending item in her hand—Marie’s vest with her “Property of Horse” patch.

“Horse wants me to wear it,” Marie snapped. “It’s important to him.”

“It doesn’t go with your dress,” Lacey snapped back. “It’s ridiculous. This is your day—you should look like a princess!”

“If it’s my day, why can’t I decide what I wear?” Marie asked, her voice rising. Lacey’s eyes narrowed.

“Because I’m your mother and I know what you really want!” she yelled. “Fuck, I need a smoke.”

“I don’t want my dress to smell like smoke,” Marie shouted back. “And I want my day to be about me! Give me my f*cking property patch!”

“No!” Lacey hissed. She looked around frantically, then spotted a pair of florist’s scissors on the counter. Snatching them up, she held them to the vest menacingly. “Stay back, or the patch gets it!”