Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(52)

Mellie’s face crumpled, and she sniffed.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, London. I didn’t mean to burn down your house. I can’t believe you’re still talking to me.”

Oh shit. Like Mel needed more trauma and guilt? I moved quickly toward the bed, taking her hands into mine.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, baby,” I told her. She shook her head, then tears burst out like a dam had broken.

“I was using the stove,” she gulped between sobs. “I checked to make sure the burners were all off, but I guess I missed one. It’s my fault.”

I frowned.

“I don’t know what happened,” I said slowly. “But I sort of doubt that leaving on one gas burner for a short time would be enough to blow up the whole house. Even if it was, it’s okay. It’s just a house.”

Huh. I’d said it to make her feel better, but it was the truth, too. It really was just a house. The sadness and shock I’d been fighting faded, replaced with relief. Not that I was happy about losing my home, but I was mostly just thankful that Mellie hadn’t been hurt. That I hadn’t been hurt.

“I can buy a new house. Or build one . . . I don’t know. Nothing that really matters is gone.”

The door opened, and a woman stepped in. She looked way too young to be a doctor, but she had all the right props—white coat, stethoscope, hair pulled back in a bun.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Logan,” she said. “I’ve got your test results, Melanie. Would you like to talk with me privately?”

“No, they can stay,” Mellie said, her hands tightening on mine.

“Well, I think you’re going to be just fine,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “You’ve got a concussion, so we’ll keep you overnight to keep an eye on things, but I don’t think you need to worry. There’s no sign of bleeding, no serious trauma to the head or spine. You got lucky.”

Relief filled her face. Then she glanced at me.

“Do I have to stay at the hospital?” she asked quietly.

“I think it’s a good idea. You can go home first thing tomorrow, if there aren’t any complications.”

“I’ll come and get you,” I told her, feeling suddenly exhausted. “But the doctor’s right—better to be safe. You were unconscious for several minutes.”

“All right,” Melanie agreed, and I smiled, leaning over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Such a sweet girl. Whatever else Jessica had gotten wrong, she’d definitely hit the jackpot the day she dragged Mellie home with her.

An hour later we had Mel all tucked into a room upstairs, and she was starting to drift off into sleep. Reese walked me downstairs, where I was startled to see several of his club brothers waiting for him, including Gage and both of the prospects I’d met that night I’d driven out to the Armory.

There were also the two men I’d seen with Jessica that same evening. Painter and Banks? Hard to remember their names, although I’d never forget the sight of them in that little room with her. Hateful night.

I smiled at them weakly but opted not to say anything. I didn’t have the energy.

“I’m takin’ London home,” Reese announced. “Painter, you’re with me.”

“I’ll come out, too,” Gage said. “We should talk.”

“Everything okay?” I asked, wondering what could possibly be more important than sleep at this point. A giant of a man with shoulder-length dark hair gave me a quick, charming smile. The patch on his leather vest said “Horse.” Funny name.

“All good, babe,” he said. “No worries. We’ll talk to the boss and then get out of your hair.”

I shrugged, because I was past curiosity. We all walked out to the parking lot, where Reese carefully helped me onto his bike. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head against his back, utterly spent.

The sun kissed the mountains through the darkness as we pulled out of the parking lot, sending pink streaking through the sky for my second ride with Reese. Same colors as last night—this time it was sunrise, the start of a new day.

My whole world was changing faster than I could keep up with, and it scared me a little. I hugged him tighter, thankful that in the midst of all this mess I had someone solid to anchor me.

Wishful thinking?

Probably. I didn’t care—all I wanted were his arms around me while I slept. Warm. Strong.

Safe.



REESE

I sat at the head of my dining room table, wondering how many times over the years we’d had meetings in here just like this one.

Too many to count.

Back in the day, Heather always kept the fridge fully stocked with beer and snacks for when the guys came over. My girl Em had done the same as she grew up, although not as efficiently.

Now I took a deep, cold drink of the beer London had gotten at the grocery. Hadn’t asked her to do it, she just noticed what I liked and then bought more of it when I got low. Felt good to have a woman in the house, even if she only took care of me because I hired her to do it.

I wasn’t paying her to f*ck me, though.

Thinking about her in my bedroom right now, wrapped tight in my sheets, waiting for me? That gave me a satisfaction and sense of rightness that I hadn’t even realized I was missing.