Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(24)

Shivering, I wondered if that made me a horrible person, because my overriding feeling on this was relief.

I parked next to Reese Hayes’s big black truck. Light blazed through the windows of my place, a 1950s cinder block with three tiny bedrooms, one bath, and zero character. I’d grown up in it with Amber, who’d come to live with us when her mom went to prison. In some ways it was more Jessica’s home than mine, because she’d been there on and off since birth. I’d only moved back in six years ago when Mom had passed on. She’d had a heart attack, right after Amber’s near-fatal overdose. Suddenly I’d been left alone with a child who needed a real parent, one who knew what she was doing.

Instead she got me.

I heard voices as I approached the door, which was open a crack. (The frame had swollen up last winter and never quite gone back to normal, so you really had to fight to close it all the way. It was sandwiched on the repair list between fixing the car and replacing the oven.)

“Your cousin deserves better than this,” I heard Hayes saying, and I couldn’t help but smile. Glad someone noticed my efforts. “If she’s smart, she’ll kick you out.”

“She’ll never kick me out,” Jess declared, and her voice sounded a little smug. A little slurred, too . . . Had she been drinking? Probably. “She’d feel guilty. She’ll always take care of me because she has to—you don’t know shit about us.”

He snorted.

“You think she takes care of you out of guilt?” he asked. “Nope—she loves you, although I can’t quite figure out why. You need to decide what you want to do with your life, because you can’t just drain her dry forever. Sooner or later she’ll be done with you.”

His words sounded so close to my own thoughts it was almost creepy. It also made me feel guilty, because the statement was so cold and hard. Not to mention true.

“It’s none of your business.”

“London is my business, little girl,” he said, and his tone was anything but nice. “I have plans for her, and they don’t include her crying over your bullshit. Don’t piss me off.”

Yikes. I pushed through the door.

“Hey, Jess,” I said, spotting my young cousin. She’d flopped back on the couch, one arm draped melodramatically over her eyes like a silent movie heroine. Clearly, her life was simply too dreadful to tolerate.

“Make him go away,” she muttered. I glanced over at Hayes, who leaned against the little bar separating the living room from the kitchen. His eyes heated when they touched me, and I wondered what exactly he meant when he said he had plans for me . . . No, I took that back. I really didn’t want to know what he meant. I just wanted him gone.

No, you want him in bed, my brain insisted. You want more kisses like the one he gave you at the Armory.

Unacceptable. I ignored Jess, walking over to him, determined to take control of the situation.

“Thanks for bringing her home,” I said, forcing myself to be polite even though—like usual—he simultaneously scared the crap out of me and turned me on. I also resented the fact that he’d invaded my space, which made no sense at all considering he was only trying to help out. Of course, it could be the fact that I was still a little worked up from my makeout session with Nate. Hayes was just so big and rugged . . . Every time he moved, his arms flexed, and I wanted to wrap my hand around his bicep and feel those muscles working.

Snap out of it!

“I’ve got things from here,” I told him.

He jerked his chin toward my teenage drama queen.

“You sure about that?” he asked. “Kid needs a wake-up call.”

“I got it,” I repeated. “Let me walk you to the door.”

He snorted, then pushed himself off the counter.

“Gee, thanks, Pic, sure nice of you to bring her home. You wanna sit for a bit, maybe have a drink?” he muttered sarcastically as I pulled the door open. I rolled my eyes at him.

“I’ve already got all the drama I need,” I said, unable to stop a rueful smile. He didn’t smile back. Nope. He just looked at me for long seconds, something heavy and tangible growing in the air between us. I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. Then he shook his head slowly, as if making a decision.

“I don’t do drama, sweetheart.”

Hayes stepped toward me and I bit back a startled squeak as he stalked across the floor, the ancient carpet allowing him to move silently, like some kind of great predator.

Please go out the door. Please go out the door. Please go out the door!

He didn’t go out the door. He came to a halt about two inches from me, then reached over and caught the back of my head, burrowing his fingers into my hair. Then Hayes tugged me toward him, fingers tightening almost painfully. I stopped breathing as he lowered his head to mine.

His lips brushed across my cheekbone and I shivered. I swear to God, if he’d touched me between my legs it couldn’t have felt better than that slight whisper of sensation.

I wanted him more than Nate, I realized. A lot more.

“You have fun on your date?” he asked, his voice low and heated. “Jess gave me all the details on the way back. She thinks your deputy boyfriend is a douche. Have to say I agree. Nate Evans is a pissant little shit.”

“I know you’re talking about me!” Jessie yelled, startling me so much I jerked in his hold, hair pulling painfully. I’d sort of forgotten about her playing Camille on the sofa. “Stop telling lies about me. I’m going to my room.”