Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(19)

Good lord, I loved that kid, and every time I started to forget why, she’d do something beautiful to remind me.





CHAPTER FOUR





REESE


Wednesday was the shits.

One of the girls working at The Line OD’d right after lunch, right on the stage. They called the ambulance and Gage started CPR, but she didn’t make it. We’d all known Pepper was using, but not how much, and apparently she left behind a son, too. I’d banged her the weekend before, but she never said a word about having a kid. Not that I’d given her the chance to talk much, or would’ve listened if she had tried.

I hated myself a little bit for that.

Now social services would step in and I hoped to hell she had family somewhere. We’d probably do a little fund-raiser for the boy, which would change exactly nothing because he didn’t need money—he needed a mom.

Fucking sucked.

Then we got word out of La Grande that they’d intercepted a major cartel shipment, which was farther north than we’d realized they’d started running product. This also f*cking sucked, because it meant things were heating up faster than we’d anticipated. I guess technically we’d been at war with them for six months, but it wasn’t an active war. More of a wait-and-see while making plans for payback.

Clearly the waiting game was over.

To top it all off, I’d smashed my thumb at the shop fixing my bike because I’m a f*cking dumbass. Now my thumb hurt like hell and the bike still wasn’t up and running. On the bright side, watching me cuss and punch the walls in frustration seemed to entertain the guys.

Nice to provide some comic relief, I guess.

When I pulled up to the house, all I wanted was a hot shower, followed by a cold beer and maybe some TV. We’d already had church that afternoon—just a quick meeting to cover events down south—but there wasn’t anything else going on tonight and I needed some time to myself. Normally I’d bring some bitch home for a f*ck after a crap day, but Pepper put a stop to that. She’d been the last girl in my bed.

Pretty sure she shot up in my bathroom, too, now that I thought about it.

That’s when I saw the goddamned minivan in my driveway. Shit. The Ice Princess had said she’d be out by early afternoon, and I wasn’t in the mood to listen to her prissy voice while staring at her off-limits boobs.

“God damn it,” I muttered, slamming my hand down on the steering wheel for emphasis. That sent a wave of pain shooting up from my swollen thumb and I stiffened, groaning.

Could anything go right today?

When I walked into the house I froze, disoriented. I smelled food cooking—good food. Some kind of savory chicken thing filled the air and my stomach growled. What the hell?

“London, you in here?” I called, throwing my shit down on the couch and moving toward the kitchen. No answer . . . but up on the kitchen counter I spotted the biggest Crock-Pot I’d ever seen full of whatever the hell smelled so good. I looked around for her, then moved toward my bedroom. The bathroom door was closed and I heard the shower running.

Still cleaning. I decided I’d forgive her for being so late, seeing as she’d cooked. I went back into the kitchen and pulled the lid off the Crock-Pot, taking a deep whiff.

Holy f*ck, that was amazing.

Thirty seconds later I had a giant bowl of bubbling chicken and dumplings in one hand and a beer in the other, ’cause I don’t believe in f*cking around when it comes to food. I went back to my room and sat back on my bed, leaning against the pillows she’d artfully arranged over the comforter. I hadn’t even known I had that many pillows.

The shower was still running. Interesting. I swapped the beer for a remote and flipped on the set. Then I took a bite and actually moaned, because the food was that f*cking good.

Christ, I’d needed this. I had no idea what’d compelled her to fix me dinner, but the woman was a goddess and I regretted every nasty thing I’d ever thought about her. The shower turned off, and I heard her singing softly to herself. My dick perked up as I took another bite.

Fuck it, because I really didn’t regret any of the nasty shit I’d thought about her . . . at least not the screwing-her parts, which had been the nastiest of all. The only thing better than eating this food would be if she fed it to me naked.

After a minute the bathroom door opened and London stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around her body. She saw me and screamed, which made her tits jiggle in a way that was nothing less than outstanding.

She’d been taking a shower. In my room. Naked.

I set the bowl down and rose to my feet, stalking toward her. Clearly London operated a full-service business.

Beautiful.





LONDON


Crazy day.

Not one single thing had gone right . . . No, that wasn’t true. The doctor’s trip yesterday had been great. All good with Jess, no signs of complications and no need to come back in for another six months unless she had symptoms. It was easy to lose perspective on how far we’d come over the years, get impatient with her for doing stupid things. The fact of the matter was she’d been born a miracle baby and now she was a miraculously healthy adult.

I needed to remember that.

That morning I’d been scheduled to finish at Hayes’s house, but I’d gotten called to the hospital instead. One of my girls was pregnant and she’d gone into preterm labor at four a.m. It looked like she’d be on bed rest for the duration, which wasn’t exactly good news for me but at least she was doing okay. Fortunately I’d gotten six applications in this week, and I’d already set up interviews with two of them. Hopefully one or both would work out—they both looked good on paper.