Reaper's Stand (Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 4)(10)

His eyes were like cold chips of blue ice, and the hint of gray at his temples and in the scruff covering his chin gave him an air of authority that I wanted to obey almost instinctively. His arms were thick, banded with heavy muscles, and his thighs . . . I glanced away quickly, because those thick thighs of his framed the half-naked woman sucking his penis perfectly. Like I’d walked into a particularly high-definition porn shoot.

I wanted to die.

Under the best of circumstances this man made me uncomfortable, and I’d done my best to avoid him. So far I’d done a pretty good job, too—wasn’t like he hung around Pawns in the evenings when my crew came in. Well, sometimes he did, but he stayed back in the office.

Maybe that was where he did his money laundering?

Feeling just a smidge hysterical, I wondered exactly how one would go about washing money. I flashed briefly on a vision of Hayes working an old-fashioned, crank-handled washing machine while a group of aproned bikers carefully hung hundred-dollar bills on clotheslines in a sunny meadow.

“Babe?”

I blinked, trying to remember why the hell I’d thought this could be a good idea.

“Yes?”

“Are you gonna sit down or not?” he asked.

“I’m really uncomfortable with”—I gestured toward the woman—“this.”

“That’s not exactly my problem,” he said, dropping a hand to rest on her head. “But if it’s an issue, you can take her place.”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Then sit the f*ck down and tell me why you’re here.”

His voice tightened, and I realized he was running out of patience. Fair enough—he obviously had other things on his . . . ahem . . . mind. I carefully perched on the edge of the couch, facing the door. This was actually better, I realized. I didn’t have to look at him now. Although I could feel the woman’s movements through the furniture frame and that was very creepy.

“My cousin’s daughter is somewhere at this party,” I said quickly. “Her name is Jessica, and she has very poor judgment. I’d really like to get her out of here and home before she does something completely stupid.”

Like set the building on fire.

“You got shit timing.”

I didn’t respond, because what the hell would I say? So far as I knew, Hallmark didn’t make a “Sorry I Interrupted Your Oral Sex” card.

Maybe I should write their corporate office to suggest it?

Hayes grunted, and the movement of the couch stopped.

“Go find Gage,” he muttered to the woman, who pulled free with a smacking noise I really, really didn’t need to hear. A second later she stood and wiped her mouth, glaring at me. I shrugged, offering a faintly apologetic smile. The couch trembled again as Hayes shifted, and for one horrible minute I thought he was actually going to grab me and push me down into her place. Then I heard the sound of a zipper.

“It’s safe.”

I turned to look at him. He’d swiveled to face me, propping one booted ankle over his knee and stretching his arm out along the backrest. It was way too close for comfort. If I leaned over I’d be able to touch him. There was nothing on his face to indicate I’d just ruined his happy ending. No emotion at all.

Nada. Yikes!

“Tell me about her,” he said. “Why is this a problem?”

Now there was a loaded question . . .

“It’s a problem because she’s young and stupid,” I said, feeling fatalistic. “She’s self-destructive and does idiotic things, and if I let her run loose out here, something bad will happen, trust me.”

He cocked his head.

“And that’s our fault?” he asked. “You afraid we’re gonna corrupt her?”

I snorted, biting back an edgy laugh and shaking my head. God, if only . . .

“No,” I replied. “Okay, yes. Probably. But the danger goes both ways. Jessica is—”

I paused, unsure how much family business I wanted to share with him. As little as possible, I decided.

“Jessie has a lot of issues. She makes bad decisions and drags other people into them. For example, she got her best friend arrested for shoplifting, even though the poor kid had no idea what was going on. I know you have no reason to do this, but would you please consider helping me find her so I can take her home?”

He watched me, eyes trailing over my face. I wished he’d show some sort of emotion. Anything. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and that freaked me out.