Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(100)

Reese probably was, too . . . But I had one more question for him. An important one.

“What about me?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“Not sure I follow.”

“Has the club decided what they’re going to do about me?” I repeated, the words slurring. “Now that it’s all over. I’m really sorry. I know I keep saying that and it doesn’t change anything, but it’s true. What I did was wrong—you always tried to help me, and even after I stabbed you in the back, you still saved Jessica. I know you don’t trust me and you probably don’t believe me, but I’d do anything for you, Reese. For the club, too. I can’t ever thank you enough for rescuing my baby girl . . .”

“Babe, I think it’s safe to say you’re fine with the club,” he replied, and I heard a touch of humor in his voice. “You saved Em’s life, lied to the cops to protect us, and then killed Gerardo Medina—all in twenty-four hours. That’s impressive, honey. You know how many people have tried to take his ass out? Not only that, we all sorta got off on you kneecapping Deputy Dickhead. Don’t sweat it, okay? Fuck, Heather tried to kill me at least three times over the years. We’ll get through this.”

“I don’t think I understand bikers.”

“That’s okay, babe. You’ll figure it out.”





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




Jess cuddled up next to me like a baby the entire flight home, tucked into my side with a blanket around us both. I hadn’t quite believed Reese when he told me she was fine. She was, though. At least physically. Sure, she’d lost a finger, and I knew recovering from that wasn’t going to be fun. But her shunt really hadn’t budged, there were no signs of infection, and even the concussion she’d gotten from hitting the floor was healing up like it should.

We also had no idea why she’d had the seizure. Of course, we’d never really understood why she had them as a child, either—or why she’d stopped having them. One thing I’ve learned over the years spent with her in hospitals and doctors’ offices is that medicine is an art, not just a science.

They don’t know nearly as much as they want you to think.

Mentally, things were going to be a lot harder for her. She didn’t want to talk about the rape or what had happened to her mother, but she flinched every time a man came near her. That was answer enough for me. Maybe she’d be ready to open up as time went on—not like a cargo plane full of bruised and bloodied bikers was the best spot for a heart-to-heart anyway.

Wasn’t my place to push her.

We finally reached Em and Hunter’s house in Portland early in the morning, less than forty-eight hours after we’d left it. Crazy, right? Reese pointed us toward a guest bedroom before taking off, saying he needed to visit Em. They’d talked by phone, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her for himself, make sure she really was going to be okay.

I felt the same way about Jessica. I tucked her in like a child and then lay down next to her, counting her breaths like I had when she was in the NICU. I should probably go downstairs, make sure everyone else was okay . . . But I was so tired. Instead I drifted off, wondering what our next step should be.

The pinging sound of a text woke me. This seemed odd, considering I hadn’t seen my phone (or purse) since before I tried to shoot Reese. I rolled over, blinking quickly, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Turn it off,” Jess mumbled, flopping over onto her side. “Too tired for school . . .”

Guess some things didn’t change.

I looked across the room to see the purse in question sitting on top of a plain wooden dresser, next to two neat stacks of folded clothing. Who could be texting me?

Pushing myself to my feet was painful at best. Every single part of my body hurt, including my fingernails and hair. I was sore, scratched, cut, and shot. Astoundingly, none of these things had been fatal, or even particularly serious. I stumbled across the room and unzipped my leather bag, digging around for my phone. The battery was low, but it showed a missed call and a message from my neighbor.


DANICA: How are you doing? Still can’t believe what happened. Wanted to let you know that Hugh’s dad read about your house in the paper. They’ve got that cabin out on Kidd Island Bay road and not using it this year—was rented but the tenant fell thru. You can have if you want. Nothing special but decent. 2 bedrooms 1 bath, friends & family rate. Sitting empty and want to help.

I stared down at the text, considering the opportunity. I’d been out there a couple of summers ago with Danica and her sister for a girls’ weekend. She was right—it wasn’t anything special. But it would give me, Jess, and Melanie some space. Things were still up in the air with Reese, although I was starting to believe him when he said I was safe. The guys had been friendly enough on the plane, too. Well, as friendly as a bunch of exhausted men who’d just lost three of their brothers in a battle against a drug cartel could be.

That didn’t change the fact that Jess flinched whenever one of those big, scary men looked at her, or that I had no idea what kind of relationship Reese and I would have moving forward.

Sure, he’d offered us rooms at his house until I figured something out . . . before I tried to shoot him. Not only that, no matter how happy the two of us might be together, if he scared Jessie, his house wasn’t a good place for her.