Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(70)

Panic closed my throat. Extra security? That didn’t make any sense—they must know something. Painter was going to take me into that kitchen and kill me for betraying the club.

Shut up! My brain snapped. Chill the f*ck out, because there’s no way they could find out so fast.

Good point. I took a deep breath and tried smiling at the young prospect. He just studied me, crossing muscular arms in front of his chest. He really was extremely attractive. Black hair, dark eyes, dusky, thick eyelashes—near perfect, except for the scar running up one cheek, along his nose and into his forehead.

Damn. Looked like someone had tried to cut his face off.

Not that it hurt his looks at all. If anything, it kept him from being too pretty. Dark skin said he came from a mixed background. Maybe one of the local tribes? Or Latino . . . Hard to tell, and not really any of my business anyway.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, then looked back at Painter. “I assume you got him settled upstairs?”

“It’s covered,” Painter replied. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”

I nodded, pausing to give Mel a quick squeeze on the shoulder. She seemed to be operating on the theory that no murderers or monsters would be able to get her so long as she stayed under the covers. Clearly she wasn’t willing to risk that safety for a hug, which made me smile sadly.

I was learning the hard way that nothing can protect us from the real monsters.

“What’s up?” I asked Painter once we reached the other room. He caught and held my gaze, his expression focused.

“I didn’t lie to you about Melanie,” he said. “I won’t do anything to hurt her. She was just scared of the movie. Puck and I had no idea she’d be so frightened, and she didn’t say anything ahead of time. Otherwise we would’ve watched something else. Pic didn’t want her out here alone, and I knew you’d be pissed if I took her back to the Armory.”

I would’ve felt extremely relieved to hear that if I hadn’t been so completely focused on keeping Jessica alive.

“Good to know.”

“I’ve f*cked up before,” he continued. “I’m a dick and an *. But I promise you—I’m not gonna screw her over. Okay?”

“Okay.”


He nodded, as if something important had been decided. I wasn’t even close to understanding what was going on behind those eyes of his, and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving Jessica.

“You wanna watch the rest of the movie with us?”

I have my own horror movie playing on a loop in my head. But thanks for asking.

“No, I think I’ll get to bed,” I told him, smiling weakly. “Nice to meet your . . . friend? Brother? I don’t know what to call him.”

“Call him Puck,” he said, giving me a charming grin. “You might want to get used to him, too. I think Pic plans to have him stick with you for the next week or so. Security.”

Well. That was inconvenient. I decided I’d think about it tomorrow, because I’d burned through the last of my energy when I’d come home to find the living room full of young bikers I was pretty sure were capable of killing me without blinking.

Painter—apparently oblivious to my terrible tension—ambled toward the fridge and pulled out a beer.

“Want one?”

I shook my head.

“No, I’m going to bed. Ready for this day to end in a big way.”

? ? ?

Nothing.

I lay sprawled in the center of Reese’s bed, staring up at his bedroom ceiling and trying not to cry. It was four in the morning. He’d texted me at two saying not to wait up for him, so I’d made the most of the opportunity, going through every drawer, every box, every inch of his bedroom looking for anything that might be valuable to the sadists down in California.

Not a goddamned thing.

Although I knew a lot more about Reese now. For example, I knew Heather had written him a beautiful letter saying good-bye right before she died. She told him to be happy. She said that when her girls got married, she wanted him to give each of them a diamond pendant, set in silver, from her. She called them “something new” for the big day.

She also told him she didn’t want him to grow old alone.

According to Em, I was the first woman he’d really let in since Heather died. “Guilty” just wasn’t strong enough to describe how that made me feel, given my current plan to betray him. At least I didn’t need to worry about him knowing I’d searched the room. I’d been incredibly careful, taking pictures of his things before moving them, so I could put them back exactly where they’d been before. Realistically, there wasn’t any more that I could do, but I couldn’t sleep, either.

I rolled over and turned off the light, wishing I were better at praying. Now would be a real good time for it . . .

? ? ?

Big hands slid under my shirt.

I sighed and shifted, confused. Reese caught my breasts and squeezed lightly. Then I felt his lips touch my stomach and I squirmed, heat pooling between my legs.

“Missed you last night,” he said, his voice low. I opened my eyes, but the room was still dark. Must be very early morning, right before dawn.

Then I remembered. Fuck. Oh, f*ck. Jess was in danger, Amber was dead, and I had to screw over the first man who’d made me feel anything real in years. Maybe ever.