Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(88)

“Assuming we had him—and I’m not sayin’ we do—why would we let you witness something that could be used against us?”


“I want to be an accomplice,” I told him, the words spilling out of me with sudden force. “I want to make Nate pay, and I want to shut those f*ckers down. I know you’re planning to do something big. I can sense it—all those meetings? People coming in from all over, and extra security? There’s something happening and I’m in the middle of it now. I messed everything up with you, and I know you can’t trust me . . . But I’ll do whatever I can to help. Anything. I figure there’s a good chance I won’t survive this situation and I’m coming to peace with that—but I really want to make Nate pay before I go, Reese. I want to look him in the eye and watch him suffer. Then I want to shoot him.”

The thought made me smile, and I wondered how the hell I’d gone from cleaning lady to bloodthirsty killer. Okay, so I wasn’t a very competent killer, but the sentiment was there . . .

“Damn,” he muttered, pulling me into him tighter. “When did you turn so hardcore?”

“When I realized my girl is dying or already dead”—the words made me choke, but I forced myself to push past them—“and that Nate Evans is the reason. I had a good life before I met him. It wasn’t perfect, but I had a home and a family, and he took them away from me. Fuck him, Reese. He should have to pay for what he did.”

I felt Reese’s lips touch the top of my head as I bit back tears. I didn’t want to cry or look weak or beg for mercy—I’d made my bed . . . Now I had to own up to my choices.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Sorry for all of it. For trying to shoot you. For not trusting you. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Little late for that.”

“I know.”

Silence fell again.

“We’re going to Portland in a couple of hours,” Reese said softly. “Then we’re heading down to California to make a strategic strike at the cartel leadership. Got our targets already, been scoping ’em out for a long time now. I’m going to try and find Jessica while I’m down there.”

I felt a sudden surge of hope, then bit it back. I couldn’t afford hope.

“How can I help?”

“You can’t, unless you remembered something you haven’t told us already?”

I shook my head, thinking hard.

“I told you everything,” I said. “I wish I knew more. Will you let me see Nate?”

He didn’t answer for a minute, and then he sighed.

“Yeah. But you can’t shoot him. We might still need his ass.”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis. Somethin’ you should learn about the club—we don’t like it when people ask too many questions. We’ll be leaving soon, and you’re coming with us. Marie is bringing over some shit for you to wear.”

My breath caught.

“Does she know what I did?”

“Nope,” he said. “And she won’t. We don’t need the girls all worked up about your situation, so keep your mouth shut if you happen to see one of them.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“For what?”

“Trusting me again.”

“I don’t trust you for shit.”

“You trust me enough to come to Portland with you. I can’t change what happened, but I promise I won’t f*ck up again, Reese.”

“You really expect me to fall for that?”

I sighed, so many thoughts running through my head that I couldn’t hardly catch them all . . .

“Just promise me one thing,” I said finally.

“What’s that?”

“If there’s a way for me to help you stop the cartel, let me do it. I don’t care if it’s dangerous. You can even use me for bait, if you think it’ll work. I just want the chance to fight back, for Jessica and for me.”

He exhaled hard. “We’ll see.”

? ? ?

Half an hour later I was dressed in biker babe clothing just a little too small for my generous curves. Marie and I were the same height, but my chest was a little more . . . substantial. At least I was warm and dry. They’d even found me a leather jacket somewhere, which was important because apparently I’d be riding to Portland on the back of Reese’s bike. This surprised me—I’d assumed he wouldn’t want me around, or that his brothers wouldn’t tolerate me.

Apparently the politics of biker betrayal were more complicated than I realized.

People had started gathering for the trip when Reese led me down the stairs and into the basement for a second time that night. I followed him down the hallway until we reached the same nasty, scary room where they’d hung me from the ceiling just a few hours earlier.

Things were moving so fast I could hardly keep up.

Reese pushed the door open, and I walked in to find Nate sitting in a battered metal chair, his arms and legs tied down tight. A dirty bandanna had been used to gag his mouth. Dried blood crusted his face and hair. It looked to me like one of his hands had been smashed with a mallet.

He wasn’t a happy camper.

The fire I felt died a little, because imagining Nate in pain and seeing him like this were two very different things. I didn’t feel sorry for him, exactly. Just sort of creeped out. I was determined, though. I wanted to personally make him pay and this was my big opportunity.