Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(64)

London was passed out on top of me, her soft curves molding against me. She gave a tiny, ladylike snore. Adorable. I let my hand slide down to her ass, cupping it as I considered all I had to get done in the next twelve hours.

Big meeting today. Big decisions, and I had a feeling that within the next couple of weeks we’d start to see the bodies pile up. There’d been more drama in the south, more cartel bullshit. My daughter’s old man was in it up to his ass.

I had mixed feelings about that situation.

On the one hand, I wanted Hunter dead for all he’d done to Em, not least of which was stealing her from me and knocking her up. On the other, the last thing I needed was some cartel f*ckwad pulling the trigger on him. If anyone put that bastard in the ground, it would be me.

Yeah, right.

Like I’d do that to my little girl. Or her baby. Shit. Couldn’t quite wrap my head around that—my little girl was gonna be a mom. She didn’t seem old enough, although I’d been several years younger than she was right now when I planted Emmy in Heather.

God help Hunter if he treated her wrong. He’d be on his knees praying for death before I ended him.

London stirred against me, the perfect distraction. Couldn’t wrap my head around her, either. I still couldn’t believe how much fun she was. Her house exploding had turned into something of a bonus, at least in terms of keeping her in my bed. Not like I was happy about her losin’ everything, but I was more than willing to take advantage of it, given the opportunity.

She’d talked to her insurance agent Thursday, mentioned moving out into an apartment. Wasn’t gonna happen—at least not any time soon. I liked her way too much. Sure, having Mellie around was a pain in the ass, but kids always were. She’d move out by the end of summer anyway. Planned to start college, and I knew she’d signed up for housing. All good there.

Now my brothers? They weren’t too sure about me and London. They liked her plenty, but they also knew I was a player and they didn’t want me f*cking up the cleaning contracts.

Fuck ’em. What’s the point of being president if you can’t pull rank every once in a while?

Someone knocked at the door and I glanced at the clock. Almost nine in the morning, though you’d never know it seein’ as the office didn’t have a window.

“You in there, prez?” Bolt asked.

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my voice low. London stirred, then slumped back down into sleep.

“Girls got breakfast going,” he said. “Shade says he wants to start church before ten. We got a lot to get through.”

“’Kay,” I muttered. I shook London, who grumbled and muttered at me to go away. Biting back a smile, I rolled her to the side, sliding her off my body and down into the fabric of the couch. Her butt stuck up in the air and her hair covered her face. She gave another little snore.

I stood and stretched, reaching for the little light on my desk. I found it and flicked it on, sending a soft green glow through the room from the banker’s shade covering the bulb.

You have fun last night? Heather asked.

I glared at her picture on the file cabinet.

Yeah. You got a problem with that?

She laughed, and I imagined her shaking her head.

I told you to be happy, baby, she seemed to whisper. I like this one. She makes you smile and she pitches in. The girls like her. I know you don’t want another old lady, but maybe you need to pull your head out of your ass.

Fuck that. Happenin’ too fast. London grunted and rolled onto her back, making a smacking noise with her mouth. It wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, but the sight of her tits flattening out across her chest was right up there. She’d seemed too sweet, too soft when I met her. She’d never survive in the club, I’d known it in my bones.

Then she’d sucked my cock like a pro in the courtyard, and the fact that any one of a hundred people could’ve walked up on us at any moment didn’t seem to bother her at all. Earlier, when I’d gotten stuck talking to my national president and left her hangin’ for hours with a crowd of strangers, London did great on her own. The woman wasn’t a coward.

Not only that, she brought food to the party and she wasn’t scared to stand up to Painter. She pitched in to keep things tidy, made sure everyone had enough to eat. Hell, she didn’t even freak out when her house exploded, which would’ve been totally fair, even in my book.

Old lady material.

You don’t want her, maybe you should pass her along to a man who does? Heather suggested, her voice sly. Don’t waste a good old lady—bring her into the club. Doesn’t have to be you claiming her. We need women like this one . . . Bolt’s lonely as hell these days.

“Bolt touches her, I’m shootin’ him.”

London stirred, then opened her eyes.

“Did you say something?” she whispered. I shook my head.

“Must’ve been someone in the hallway,” I grunted.

“You mind if I sleep some more?”

“Not at all,” I told her. “You rest. I think later on the girls are goin’ out, getting their toes done or some such shit. You should go with them.”

London’s eyes were already closed again.

I gave Heather the finger and slipped out the door.

? ? ?

“It’s time,” Hunter declared, looking around the big game room on the second floor of the Armory. We had men from three clubs here—nowhere near enough room in the chapel for all of us. “We’ve been playing defense against the cartel for too long. The Jacks are standing strong, but we don’t have the manpower to hold out much longer. We’re already losing territory. They’re gettin’ more powerful and soon they won’t be satisfied with anything less than open war. We think it’s better to attack them before they come after us with full strength, but we can’t do it alone. We need the Reapers and the Silver Bastards to join us, along with your support clubs. This may be our last chance to stop them.”