Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(29)

“Reese, I’m really worried about Jess. Can you call or message me? I know things are . . . awkward . . . between us, but I’d like to rule out whether she’s with someone from the club. Nobody has seen her.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, then glanced over at Bolt. “Give me a sec?”

He nodded and I stepped out of the truck, hitting the callback button. She answered on the fourth ring.

“Reese?”

Her voice was tense, but I still liked the sound of my name on her tongue. Of course, it’d sound sweeter if she was screaming it into a pillow while I pounded her from behind. Funny how that worked.

“Got your messages, sweetheart,” I said. “I’ll check with the brothers, but if she’d shown up at the Armory, they would’ve told me. They know she’s not supposed to be out there.”

“You don’t think she could’ve gone to someone’s house?” she asked, her voice tentative. “Maybe one of those men we found her with the other night?”

“No way. Painter and Banks wouldn’t touch her, not after I put her off-limits. Hate to break it to you, but she’s nothing special. Not worth a fight at the club.”

“I see,” she said, although she probably didn’t. Outsiders never did.

“What does Deputy Dick have to say? He helpin’ you out?”

She made a strange, strangled noise, which she tried to cover with a cough.

“Nate told me kids her age take off all the time and not to worry about it. And no, he’s not around. I’ve only talked to him once—he didn’t return my calls yesterday, and he’s working this morning. I guess they’ve got a lot going on this weekend. Mandatory overtime.”

Lying *. What kind of game was he playing with her? My inner caveman decided it didn’t matter. Fuck safety, and f*ck picket fences. London Armstrong obviously couldn’t take care of herself, which meant someone needed to step in and fix this shit. If that meant claiming her, so be it. As for Evans, I’d put that f*cker in the ground a hundred miles from the nearest town with a clear conscience the next time he decided to play games.

Proud of you, baby, Heather murmured.

I growled, because my dead wife didn’t get a vote. If she really cared about me, she wouldn’t have died. And London? I’d had enough of her shit, too. That bitch was gonna be mine and I didn’t share.

You do realize you’re crazy, right?

At least crazy worked for me. Always had.

“Reese? Are you okay?”

Shit. Poor woman was scared and alone, and now I was growling at her because I’d lost my f*cking mind, apparently. I rubbed my chin, thinking quickly. I needed to play things smart, nudge her in the right direction if I wanted to do this right. All Evans really needed was enough rope to hang himself. He’d do the rest for me . . .

“There’s some truth to what he said,” I said, trying to sound somewhat sane and sympathetic. “Although it’s not exactly a comfort. Is there anything I can do to help?”


“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve already talked to all her friends. I can’t imagine where she went.”

“She’s probably holed up with some boy somewhere. Jess is a pretty girl—wouldn’t be hard for her to find someone to take her in.”

“She would’ve told one of her friends, though. None of them have heard from her.”

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose, torn between laughter, frustration, and a hint of crazed exaltation. Christ, but London was naive. No idea how she’d pulled that off at her age, but there was no question the woman was clueless. I wondered if that cluelessness extended to her sexual experience, too. Might be fun to teach her new things. Of course, if she already had some tricks, that’d be nice, too.

“They won’t tell you, honey. They’ll cover for her because that’s what teenage girls do.”

“Maybe most of them, but not Melanie,” London said. “She’s the one Jessica relies on the most, and she’s completely freaked out. Said she got some weird text from her about heading south.”

“What’s down south?”

“Nothing that I can think of,” London said. “I mean, the last time I heard from her mother, she was living near San Diego, but I can’t imagine she’d lift a finger for Jess, let alone invite her to come and stay with her. Amber is a selfish bitch who doesn’t want the men in her life to know she’s old enough to have an adult daughter. Jess doesn’t have the money to get down there anyway.”

“You want me to come over?” I asked her, and in that moment my intentions were almost decent. Didn’t like her being scared, and not even I was such a dick that I’d use her little cousin running away to f*ck her. Probably. Maybe.

Who was I kidding? Of course I would.

“Why?”

“So you aren’t alone,” I said. “I have daughters, remember? They’re good kids but sometimes it’s hell—that’s when things are going right. I’ll grab some food and we can hang out for a while, help pass the time. Unless you have other plans?”

“I was planning to pace and look at my phone,” she murmured. “It’s a bad idea, I think.”

“You can pace and look at your phone while we eat. I’ll be over around seven, need to unload my truck and get a shower first. Sound good?”