Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(30)

“I don’t know . . . I don’t want anything happening between us, Reese. Seriously.”

“I’ll behave,” I told her. Unlikely. “And try calling your cousin, see if she’s heard anything. Never hurts to check.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding defeated.

I hung up and climbed back into the truck, considering the situation. No idea where the kid was, but Nate Evans was sure as hell making things easy for me.

Fuckin’ idiot to leave his woman open and ripe for the taking.

London needed sympathy, someone to take care of her. Dumbass should’ve picked up on that. Of course, Deputy Dick didn’t have a reputation for being the most sensitive of guys. He’d put the pressure on more than one of our dancers during late-night “traffic stops” before we’d come to an understanding about his behavior.

We’d come to an understanding about London, too. Soon.

“All good?” Bolt asked.

“Good enough,” I told him. “Gotta bail on tonight, though. Something came up.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Both. Stopping by to see London Armstrong.”

Bolt grinned. “I knew you were into her.”

“Not exactly a secret I’m lookin’ to f*ck her.”

“That what you’ll be doing tonight? Fuckin’ her?”

I laughed, because I honestly had no idea. Last time I’d felt this way, I’d been eighteen years old and crazy over Heather.

“Depends. She’s havin’ a shitty weekend. Not sure what the best strategy is just yet.”

“Usually your strategy involves getting them naked and then pushing them out the door.”

“The situation with London is a little more complicated than that,” I admitted.

“Is this the point where I sing the little song about Pic and London sittin’ in a tree?”

“Only if you want the tree shoved up your ass.”

“Might be worth it,” Bolt said, his voice sly. I flipped him off, suddenly in a very good mood.

No fool like an old one, I guess, but damned if I didn’t feel like I was eighteen all over again.



LONDON

“I’m her mother—she belongs with me,” Amber declared, her voice smug with triumph. I’d called her knowing Reese had to be wrong. Jessica would never go to Amber, even if she was furious with me. She knew better . . . But apparently she didn’t.

Nothing made sense anymore.

“I thought you didn’t want your boyfriend to know you’re old enough to have a grown daughter?”

“He knows I got pregnant young.”

“You got pregnant at twenty-two, not twelve.”

She sniffed.

“Did she at least take her health insurance card with her? You have to keep a close eye on her—things can go south so fast. I really think you should send her—”

“Shove it up your ass, Loni,” she said, just like we were in middle school again. I could almost see her rolling her eyes. “I’m sick of your lectures and bullshit. Go back to your boring life cleaning up other people’s shit. I have a maid now, you know. My boyfriend hired her for me. Guess you were wrong about how I’d turn out, hmmm?”

“Can I at least talk to her?”

Instead of replying, Amber hung up. I sighed, studying my phone with mixed emotions. Jess was safe. Somehow she’d gotten a flight down to San Diego, something I would’ve said was impossible. The last time we’d spoken, my cousin made it clear she had no interest in seeing her daughter. None.

It didn’t add up.

I decided to call Nate again, because the more I thought about it, the more suspicious I got. I knew he was working, so I figured I’d have to leave a voice mail. When he answered, it took me off guard.

“Hey Loni—what’s up?”

“I found Jessica,” I told him.

“Well, that’s good news,” he said “Where is she?”


“Down in San Diego with her mother. I didn’t actually talk to her myself. She still isn’t answering her phone.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

I sighed, rubbing my temple. Nate just didn’t seem to feel any urgency about the situation, and it frustrated me.

“Not much of a relief,” I told him. “It doesn’t make sense. Amber is living with some rich boyfriend and she doesn’t want him knowing she has a daughter Jessica’s age. I tried to take Jess to visit her last summer and she wouldn’t let us come. I think Amber is up to something.”

“Hon . . .” he said, and his voice was patient, loving, and condescending as hell. “You sound crazy.”

“I’m not crazy,” I snapped.

“I know you’re not,” he replied soothingly. “And that’s why this sounds so crazy, because it’s not like you. I know you’ve given everything for Jessica, but kids pull shit like this all the time. She’s with a family member. At least you know she’s safe, so maybe you should just enjoy the fact that she’s finally out of your hair.”

“She’s not a normal eighteen-year-old,” I insisted, walking toward the kitchen. I found the wine I’d picked up at the store earlier and grabbed my corkscrew. “Her brain doesn’t work right, you know that. And she has health issues. She doesn’t even have a doctor down there.”