Reaper's Legacy (Reapers MC, #2)(66)

Buck spat out some blood and grinned, the bright red outlining his teeth horrifically and dripping down his chin. He looked like a serial killer.

“It’s all good,” he said, licking his lips. “Asshole just won a bet for me. Too f*ckin’ easy.”

Then he glanced at me, still crouched next to Maggs, utterly stunned.

“No job,” he said. “Got enough bitch drama at the bar already. At a fight, though? Perfect. Ruger always wins, f*ckin’ beautiful moment. Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Um, okay,” I said quickly. “I think I’d do better working somewhere else anyway.”

Ruger glared at me, chest heaving, his entire body covered with a sheen of sweat.

“You asked him for a job?” he demanded, grabbing my arm and jerking me through the crowd. I tried to break away, but he didn’t even notice.

“Let me go!”

Ruger dragged me over to the courtyard wall and pinned me up against it, putting a hand on either side of my head as he got down into my face.

“What part of this is so f*ckin’ complicated?” he asked, as angry as I’d ever seen him. Well, almost … “You don’t just go around flashing your tits. It’s not a difficult concept, Sophie.”

“Maggs said he needed to check me out for the waitress job,” I told him quickly. “She said it wasn’t personal, not a big deal at all.”

Ruger’s eyes darkened.

“When a man asks to see a woman’s tits, it’s always personal,” he said slowly and clearly. “And yours belong to me. No f*ckin’ way I’m letting you work at The Line. And keep your damned shirt on. Christ, it’s like I’m talkin’ to myself half the time.”

“No worries,” I said, not bothering to argue. Pointless. “I’ve had enough of this club, I’m leaving. Em and I plan to watch movies and eat ice cream.”

Ruger stilled, then reached out and brushed my hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. I felt myself relax a little. Maybe he wasn’t as angry as I’d thought. Then his fingers slid deeper into my hair and his eyes hardened.

His hand tightened painfully as he jerked my mouth into his. His tongue stabbed deep into my mouth, possessive and dominant. His other hand caught my arm, jerking my body forward into his as he twisted it up and behind me. One knee shoved between my legs, and he slanted his head, taking everything he wanted and more.

My body loved it, the faithless bitch.

The fight had left him sweaty all over, sending out pheromones so strong it’s a wonder I could still stand upright. I wanted to wrap my arms around him but he held me too tight, controlling every move.

I was starting to sense a pattern with Mr. Don’t-Come-Until-I-Tell-You.

Finally he pulled away, both of us gasping for breath. He still held me tight, completely incapable of movement even if I’d wanted to get away, which I didn’t. My brain had checked out a while back. His hips ground into me, cock more than ready to finish things off.

“You belong to me,” he said, voice harsh.

“Ruger—” I started, but a sudden, loud, feminine scream tore through the air.

Ruger dropped me and spun around, covering me with his body as he scoped out the situation. The screaming continued, and then I heard a roar of masculine rage. In the dim firelight I saw a man tear across the courtyard, with about ten more guys chasing him. He hit the far wall, jumped high and caught the top with his hands, pulling himself over.

“Holy shit,” I muttered.

“Stay out of the way,” Ruger said, turning to me. His eyes were deadly serious, and for once I had every intention of doing exactly what he said. “I’ll send one of the girls over, then you get the f*ck outta here. Walk to your cars together. Got me?”

“Shouldn’t we call the cops?” I asked as the screaming died down. Now I heard crying and angry shouting. “Someone’s hurt. What the hell is going on?”

“No idea what happened,” Ruger replied. “We’ll get help, no worries. But don’t call the cops. We handle things ourselves, within the club. Do what I say for once and wait for me to send someone over. Then go home and stay there. I can’t deal with this and worry about you, too.”

I nodded and he kissed me hard, then ran off toward the Armory gate. In the distance I heard bikes roar to life and then a gunshot. I slid down the wall and sat, knees drawn up tight against my chest, and did my best to obey Ruger perfectly.

Maggs came over ten minutes later. Her face was grim and she had streaks of blood on her arm. I stood and threw my arms around her, clutching her tight.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“Fucking Toke,” she muttered. “There’s some sort of club shit going down. They voted on it today, supposed to be a done deal, but Toke—he’s out of Portland—had a few too many beers and decided there should be a recount. He started fighting with Deke and pulled a goddamned knife, waving it around like a jackass.”

“Who was screaming?” I asked. I pulled away and looked down at her arm. “You’re all bloody. Who got hurt?”

Her eyes hardened.

“Em,” she said. “Cocksucker caught Em with his knife.”

Shock hit me and I felt myself sway.

“Did anyone call an ambulance?” I asked, glancing around the courtyard. Beyond the fire I saw someone sitting on the ground, surrounded by women.