Reaper's Legacy (Reapers MC, #2)(89)

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” she replied. “You call the cops, Dad or Ruger might wind up in jail before this ends.”

“How do you figure?”


“You think I was joking when I said Dad would kill Hunter?” she asked slowly. “This isn’t a game. I’ll try to convince him not to. I’ll hope to hell it doesn’t happen. But Hunter going to jail for this won’t protect him, and if Dad takes him out, I don’t want to lose him, too.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, shocked. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you won’t call the cops,” she replied. “If you’re in the position to make a call, you’ll already be safe. I have the right to make the decision for myself, though.”

I thought about it for a second.

“Okay,” I whispered. I didn’t like it, but I’d do it.

She nodded, then started down the stairs very slowly. This would be the hardest part, because we needed to pass through the living room to go anywhere else in the house. He was probably in there, because that’s where the TV was. I pictured the layout in my head—he’d be facing away, and I didn’t remember seeing any mirrors on the walls.

Just a little luck and we’d pull it off.

Em looked up at me, lifted a finger to her mouth and then waved me down. I crept from step to step, trying to stay completely silent, while still moving fast enough so that we wouldn’t lose our opportunity. Skid came into view as I reached the bottom of the stairwell. He sat on the couch, back to us, playing some sort of game that involved shooting at things.

Luckily, it also seemed to involve a lot of loud noises and blowing things up.

Em touched my hand and I looked at her. She pointed at her chest, then toward the front door. Then she pointed at me and toward the back of the house. She held up three fingers, then counted down with them, two, one—go.

I slipped past her, walking quickly but silently toward the back of the house. Within seconds I passed out of the living room, through a dining room, and into a kitchen. I found the back door. It was locked, of course, but all I had to do was open the deadbolt. No special security or anything.

They really hadn’t been planning to kidnap us, I realized. Even I knew that when you plan a kidnapping, you prep a place for your prisoners.

So far so good.

I eased the back door open, and then Skid shouted behind me. I heard Em shriek at him and then a loud, crashing noise. I took off out the door, running as fast as I could in a wide circle around the house.

There was a long gravel driveway, and since we’d already been discovered, I followed it, listening for vehicles or gunfire. I didn’t hear anything other than that first loud outburst. My heart pounded and my brain shut down—would Skid really kill Em? I ran hard, adrenaline powering my legs.

Then I heard a gunshot.

Fuck.

RUGER

Hunter had set up the meet in Spirit Lake, but Ruger got a text halfway there sending them to Rathdrum instead. The Devil’s Jack waited for them in a bar that clearly stated “No Colors” outside the door, forcing them to take off their cuts before going inside.

Dick. Balls of brass, though.

They walked in to find him sitting in the back, nursing a beer. Picnic started forward, but Bam Bam caught his arm, pulling him back.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low. Picnic nodded tightly as Duck took lead instead.

“Your girls are doing just fine,” Hunter said as the men sat down, and Ruger realized he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he pretended. His eyes were like ice, and he looked almost feral. That wildness made Ruger damned uncomfortable. Man like that might do anything—no predicting his actions. “I’m planning to keep it that way, so long as you do your part. Where are we on that? You got news for me on your boy?”

“No, we got shit,” Duck said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Here’s what you need to know. Toke—”

“Toke slashed Em with a knife,” Hunter said. “I saw the damage. He’s out of control, and not just with us. Am I right?”

“How did you see that?” Picnic demanded. “Why the f*ck was her shirt off?”

“Shut up,” Hunter said. Picnic lurched to his feet, but Horse caught him, pushing him back down.

“Not now, Pic,” Horse murmured. “Hold it back.”

“Why was her shirt off?” Picnic repeated. Ruger felt his own temper rise, but he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open.

“I think a better question is, why she did she get cut in the first place?” Hunter asked, his voice full of carefully leashed anger. “Or maybe, why was she meeting a strange man in a bar without any kind of backup? You f*cked up, old man, and I’ve got her now. Looks like she needs someone new to protect her anyway.”

Fuck me, Ruger thought. He’s got a thing for Em.

“Let’s get back on track,” Duck said, his tone smooth and dangerous, which wasn’t like Duck at all. Usually he had a big mouth and a short temper, but the crisis seemed to have brought out something more calculating in him. He’d told them stories about Vietnam, about patrols in the backcountry and sneaking behind enemy lines, but Ruger had always thought he was full of shit.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“We can’t give you what you want,” Duck told Hunter. “Believe me, we want to. We’ve been looking for him all week. And this shit—this goes against our whole club. We voted on the truce and the decision was made. He’ll answer for that to the national officers. But don’t go hurting two innocent girls trying to force us to do something impossible. I promise you, either of them gets a scratch and your life will end. Got me?”