Reaper's Stand(60)

A funny look came over her face, and she shook her head.

“ ‘Kind’ is not a word women use for my dad.”

I shrugged, because he’d been kind to me.

He’d also been overbearing, scary, and pushy … But once a man throws his body over yours to protect you from an explosion, I guess you tend to overlook the little things.

My plan to slowly sip one drink over the course of the evening fell apart pretty quickly. For one, I was nervous as hell and the booze soothed me every time I started feeling panicky. Ideally he would’ve met me at the gate, introduced me to people, et cetera. But I also understood he was a host, and it made me feel kind of proud that he trusted me enough to simply throw me into his social circle on my own.

My “slow sipping” plan also fell apart because the Reaper women knew how to drink and they weren’t shy about encouraging me to join them. Before I knew what was happening, Dancer had lined up a row of tequila shots in front of us, issuing everyone salt and limes before declaring, “Drink up, bitches! If God wanted us sober, he wouldn’t have made shot glasses so cute!”

We all licked our hands, poured our salt, and sucked the shots down like a line of good little soldiers.

All but Em, that is.

“What’s up with that?” Dancer demanded, shouting to be heard over the music and growing noise of the party. She nodded toward the younger woman’s water bottle. “You love shots. You used to sneak them in my bathroom with your sister. Don’t tell me you’ve given up alcohol?”

Em shrugged.

“Not in the mood, I guess. Is there a law that says I have to drink?”

The women stilled and Dancer leaned in, studying the younger woman with owlish eyes. She held up a finger, waving it back and forth in the air like a divining rod, biting her tongue in concentration. Then the finger moved down, pointing toward Em’s stomach.

“You got somethin’ in there we should know about?”

My eyes went wide, darting toward Em’s tummy, which was covered by a loose T-shirt. She blushed and looked away. Dancer and Marie burst out in screams, jumping up and down, and suddenly we were surrounded by big men wearing leather and concerned facial expressions.

I was glad to see them, too, because so far as I could tell, the women had lost their minds.

“What the f*ck, babe?” Horse demanded, catching Marie and pulling her into his side protectively. A young, tall, muscular man wearing black leather with red accents came up behind Em and tugged her back into his arms. He let his hands rest over her stomach and he grinned.

“Told you they’d figure it out,” he said, not looking particularly upset. I glanced at his patches and decided this must be Hunter. With his hands over her stomach. Holy shit—Em must be pregnant! Wow. I wondered how Reese would feel about that?

Grandpa Hayes.

“Fuck me,” muttered another man. He was tall and built and had a pierced eyebrow and lip. His vest said his name was Ruger, which I recognized, although I’d never met him in person. This must be Sophie’s old man—I’d met her earlier with the other girls, although she’d wandered off toward the kitchen to grab more cups a few moments ago.

“Pic know about this?” someone asked. Em shook her head.

“When’s the due date?”

“Early next year,” Hunter said. “She’s a little more than three months along, but we wanted to keep things quiet for a while.”

Someone snorted, and I realized it was Darcy.

“Good luck keeping things quiet around here,” she declared.

“Congrats,” a familiar voice said, and I looked up to find Painter staring at Em, his face utterly blank. Everyone stilled.

Interesting.

“Thanks,” she said, but she didn’t look at him. Instead she turned her head toward Hunter, who took the opportunity to press a deep, intimate kiss on her. I blushed, because if she hadn’t been pregnant before that kiss, she would’ve been after. Nobody else seemed to notice or care, though. Nobody but Painter. He turned and stalked off.

Obviously there was a story here. Not that I’d pry … but it was only human to feel curious, right?

Then something in the air changed, and I felt that sense of tension and anticipation that only came when Reese was nearby. I looked around for him, spotting him coming out of the Armory’s back door. His eyes found mine and he smiled. I melted, any lingering annoyance about being left on my own disappearing because just seeing him made me feel special and wonderful.

Ruh-roh.

I really shouldn’t be falling for him this quickly.

He came striding up to our group, throwing an arm around my neck casually, tugging me into his big body with an air of primitive possession that sent a thrill racing through me.

“Emmy Lou,” he said in greeting, and I felt the love in his voice. “Hunter.”

Not so much love for him. Lots of stories I hadn’t heard, here …

“Pic,” Hunter said, nodding. His grip on Em tightened, and that’s when Reese spotted Hunter’s hands folded protectively across Em’s stomach. I felt his entire body tense.

“What’s going on here?” he said, his voice deceptively casual. “I heard screaming, which usually means we’re under attack. Of course, it could also mean that Marie and Dancer found a new nail polish color they like.”