Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(76)

God damn Nate Evans to hell, and God damn me for falling for his shit. God damn the men holding Jessica, too. If there was any justice in the universe, Amber was burning in a fiery pit surrounded by demons right at this minute. I hated all of them.

Mostly, though, I hated me.





REESE


“Why bother playing it through? She’s got a gun in there and she’s gonna shoot you with it. Not many ways to spin that and get a happy ending,” Puck said, holding my gaze steadily. “I spent almost two hours gettin’ harassed on the side of the f*cking road while she plotted your death. How much more proof do you need?”

The kid had balls, talking to me like that. Still, he’d been thrown into deep shit, headfirst, and he’d rolled with it and done his job. Nobody wants to be the one telling an MC president that his woman’s fixin’ to kill him. The Silver Bastards prospect had showed me respect without f*cking around.

I still hated him for what he’d discovered.

“Hate to say it ’cause I like London, but I’m with Puck on this one,” Gage said. He sat back in an old office chair I’d hauled down to my shop a few years ago. Right now it was positioned in front of a long, low table with two monitors set on top of it. They each split into four screens, playing a live feed of different rooms in my house. Ruger had a gift for electronics, no question.

I’d have to make sure he didn’t forget to take any of those little f*ckers out after this was all over, too. Last I needed were eyes on what went on in there on a regular basis. Been damned f*ckin’ hard to act normal this week, knowing the brothers were watching everything I did.

Make that almost everything. I didn’t let them put anything in the bedroom, because f*ck that shit.

We’d spent a good part of the afternoon down here—Gage, me, Ruger, Horse, Painter, Bam Bam, and Duck. Bolt was off at Maggs’s place. Not sure what drama was goin’ down with those two. Hopefully I’d never find out. Couldn’t even manage my own woman, didn’t need to worry about his.

“Christ,” I said, watching London bustling around the kitchen on the monitor and sighing. I’d fallen for her, I realized. Not just f*cking her, but her. Comin’ home to her felt good, and havin’ her with me at the party? Hadn’t felt like that since Heather was alive.

I’d never hated the cartel more than I did in that instant.

We might not have the full story here, but didn’t take a genius to see they were using Jessica to manipulate her. Was that an excuse? No. London should’ve come to me, let the club handle things.

“She’s got no f*ckin’ clue what she got herself into here,” I muttered. Bam grunted.

“That’s how they work. Nobody sets out to get controlled and used by a f*ckin’ cartel. They’re like parasites, workin’ their way in and then taking over until you can’t pull them out without killing the host. Lost cause at this point, Pic. She’s made her choice and it wasn’t you. Those weren’t blanks I pulled out of her purse—so far as she knows, that gun is still loaded and she’s obviously plannin’ to use it.”

I sighed, torn between wishing he wasn’t so damn blunt and thankful my brothers weren’t afraid to give it to me straight.

“So why are we still waiting?” Gage asked. “We go in and find out what’s going on—she won’t be able to hold out on us long. We can make a decision about what to do with her after that.”

“Because he’s hoping she’ll change her mind,” Duck muttered. He sat on a shop stool, eyeing all of us cynically. “Fuckin’ * thinks that maybe true love will conquer all, and then she’ll climb onto his bike and they’ll ride away into the sky on a rainbow while we all throw rose petals at them.”

Puck snorted, quickly turning it into a cough.

“Just ’cause you’re old doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that,” I told Duck, my voice like ice. He shrugged.

“Call it like I see it,” he said. “Whatever you do, let’s do it soon. If you want it to go all the way to the end, that’s fine with me. Just get moving because I’m hungry. Whether she tries to shoot you or not, that food she’s cookin’ will still taste good.”

“Jesus, Duck,” Painter muttered. Then he caught my eye. “If this is really goin’ down, I should grab Melanie. She’s upstairs, and I don’t know what London’s planning to do about her witnessing things. We don’t need her seein’ this shit. No more collateral damage than necessary, right boss?”

“Go get her,” I said. “Take her to dinner and a movie, or some such. Make it a date. That’ll be a good alibi for both of you if anything happens. I’ll keep you posted and if things go to hell you can dump her with one of the girls, sound good?”

“Yeah,” Painter said. “I’ll take her out and then tuck her in safe once you give the all clear. Good luck, Pic. Hope it works out okay.”

He leaned over and gave me a rough hug. I slapped his back, and the rest of us settled in to watch as he drove his bike around the back side of the hill, pulling into the driveway like he’d come directly from town.

“So, you find anything interesting in her purse besides that gun?” I asked Bam.

“Well, there’s the phone they’ve been usin’ to talk to her, but that’s nothing new.”