Reaper's Stand(27)

Forever.

Never wanted more than one woman and then I had to put her in the ground, cold and alone. I’d sworn that day to never let myself care like that again.

Couldn’t risk it.

But London filled my head until I couldn’t hardly think straight. Apparently I wasn’t a joy to be around, either, because by Sunday afternoon the guys actually kicked me out of the Armory. Said I could come back when I stopped being an *, and that situation wasn’t looking promising.

I’d stomped around the courtyard, yelling at the prospects until Bolt took pity on me, dragging me up into the National Forest lands behind the clubhouse to harvest some firewood. We’d make the prospects split and stack it for seasoning once we got back, but there’s something very primal and satisfying about felling a tree and cutting it up with a chainsaw. Gotta love power tools and destruction. Not quite as good as getting laid, but better than losing your mind imagining a very unavailable cunt squeezing some other man’s dick.

Never cared for the good deputy. Taking him out would be a public service, right? But ultimately not even I could justify taking out a lawman over a woman. Maybe I should just steal her out from under him, maybe rub it in his face. Yeah. That’d work. I liked that idea a lot, and the more I considered it, the more it grew on me.

Now Bolt and I were out in the middle of nowhere and things were coming clear. I felt sweaty, tired, and more sane than I had since leaving London’s place, thanks to my club brother’s timely intervention. Nobody ever really understood me like Bolt and I’d missed the hell out of him while he was doing time these past three years. He was more than a solid vice president—he was the man I trusted more than anyone else on earth.

He’d come back different, though. Harder, more cynical than I’d ever seen him before. I guess getting locked up for a crime you didn’t commit changes a man.

Didn’t help that his old lady, Maggs, had ditched his ass.

Sore subject, and not one he liked to talk about. She had her reasons and I guess from her perspective leaving him made sense. But a man inside does whatever it takes to get by. Bolt hadn’t had any allies to protect him during that final stretch, so he’d done what he had to do. She never quite understood that.

Shit happens, I guess.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” I asked him as he tossed the chainsaw into the back end of the truck. Between it and the trailer, we’d cut and loaded nearly two cords. Good haul for an afternoon’s work.

“No plans,” he said, opening the crew cab and digging into the cooler. He pulled out a beer and cracked it, offering one to me. I turned it down, grabbing a water instead. “Thought I might head over to The Line.”

“Been spendin’ a lot of time there,” I said casually.

“Nothin’ quite like *,” he replied, pulling up his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. He’d acquired some new ink inside, of varying quality. “Went a long time without, gotta make up for that.”

I nodded, although it wasn’t entirely the truth. He might not’ve gotten the one he wanted, but he hadn’t gone without, either. Got me thinking.

“How’s the baby?”

Bolt snorted.

“What baby? Startin’ to doubt it was real.”

Damn.

“So Maggs left you over nothin’?”


“No, she left me because I cheated on her. Now that cunt Gwen says she lost the kid—assuming she was actually knocked up in the first place. I don’t know what to believe about that anymore.”

I stilled.

“You think she wasn’t really pregnant?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, taking another drink. “At least I’m rid of the bitch, so I guess that’s something. And tonight I’ll get laid, so life is good.”

I nodded slowly, knowing life was anything but good for my club brother. He missed the hell out of his old lady. We all did. She’d been solid the entire time he was gone, stood by him when he went down in the first place and then worked day and night to bring him home again. Women like that weren’t easy to find.

“You wanna come with me?” Bolt asked. “Get laid. Clear your brain.”

“Yeah.” Bolt was right—The Line was a great place to find no-strings snatch, which was exactly what I needed. If I spent one more night jerking off while imagining London, I’d have to shoot myself. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ of those tits, the way she’d melted under my touch.

Did she have pink nipples or brown?

Maybe Evans was sucking on them right now. Fucker wasn’t working this weekend. Already checked, even tried to get Bud to call him in, but the bastard had taken personal leave and not even the sheriff could cancel that. Not without a state of emergency.

Probably spending that time with London. Comforting her.

Maybe even f*ckin’ her right at this minute.

I imagined slowly strangling the man, watching his face turn purple and his eyes bulge while his legs kicked and bucked in desperation. Nothin’ f*cked up about that, right?

Christ, but I wanted inside that woman.

Knew from the minute I’d seen her six months ago she’d be the end of me. Put her off bounds that same night, although I’d been hell-bent on staying away from her. Women like that were trouble—definitely not club whore material, which meant she’d probably get all pissy about a one-night stand, and not in the market to be an old lady, either. Nope, women like her wanted picket fences and nine-to-five husbands so *-whipped they forgot their own names.