Reaper's Stand(79)

“Knew the kid had medical issues, not the details,” I said slowly. “Bills came up on the background check. This shunt shit is news, though. Fuck, London—why the hell didn’t you tell me she had a tube in her head?”


“Jessica doesn’t like people to know,” she whispered, her voice miserable. “She says it makes her feel like a freak, so we don’t talk about it.”

“None of this matters,” Puck said, stepping into the room.

“How do you figure?”

“It’s over for your girlfriend. We all know it—sucks for the kid, but there’s nothing we can do for her. You can’t let her get to you.”

“You’re a cold f*cker, aren’t you?” Horse asked. Puck shrugged.

“Practical. It is what it is. You can’t let the woman who tried to kill the president of the Reapers MC get away with it.”

Horse and I exchanged quick looks. London stayed silent.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Horse said finally. “Figure out what to do with her back at the Armory—we don’t even know how useful she might be to us yet. Burn one bridge at a time, brother.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


LONDON

Relief.

That’s what I felt, more than anything else.

I think I was supposed to be afraid, maybe cry and beg for mercy. Instead I wanted to cry with relief just because it was finally over. Jessica would live or die, but there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it at this point.

The instant I pulled the trigger, I’d known that I’d made the worst mistake of my life. They say God shows mercy on drunks and fools. That I believed, because despite my resolve, the gun didn’t fire. I wasn’t entirely sure why and I didn’t care—if they killed me, so be it.

It was a strange realization. Reese and I hadn’t even been together a full week. I didn’t truly know what kind of man he was, ultimately. But I knew he had people who loved him. He’d been crazy about his wife, he’d raised two children by himself, and he’d protected me with his own life.

I had no justification to shoot Reese Hayes, no matter what was at stake. Period.

Let it be.

During the short ride to the Armory I drifted, thinking about everything and nothing … They’d bundled me roughly into the back of my own van, which I supposed would have to disappear along with my body. I wondered how they’d explain things to my employees, then figured it didn’t really matter. None of them knew anything that could get them in trouble. They’d just have to find new jobs.

On the bright side, job hunting is rarely fatal.

Horse and Bam Bam drove me, with Gage in the backseat by my side. They’d cuffed my hands in front of my body, which was fairly considerate under the circumstances. I sort of expected a burlap bag over the head before being stuffed in a trunk. This seemed luxurious, all things considered.

After what felt like hours and still no time at all, we pulled up to the Armory and they opened the gate into the back courtyard. The pale sunlight showed a very different picture from the way it’d been the last time I was here. The tables had been put away, and instead of laughing people, a grim circle of men wearing Reapers colors stood waiting for us.

Reese wasn’t among them.

I opted not to meet their eyes when Gage opened the sliding door and caught my arm, dragging me out of my seat. He pushed me roughly across the pavement toward a sunken stairwell at the back of the building—a basement entrance, leading down into darkness.

You know, I’d been nervous the first time I walked into the Armory. It’s an intimidating place and the men are rough and scary looking. Now I kept waiting for the numbness to lift and the fear to set in.

Nothing.

They hustled me along a barren, dimly lit concrete hallway lined with doors that looked like prison cells. One of them stood open, and I saw a small cot with a nasty little mattress. Definitely a prison cell. I wondered what’d happened to the last person in there, then decided I really didn’t want to know.

I’d tried to make death quick for Reese, and as painless as possible. I could only pray he’d do the same for me.

Gage shoved me through a door farther down the hallway. Two bare-bulbed work lights hung suspended from rusty hooks in the ceiling. A rope hung down, too—it’d been strung through a metal loop bolted into a massive support beam. Gage nudged me forward, looping the rope around the chain between the handcuffs.

Bam Bam caught the other end and pulled it, stretching my arms up and over my head. Shit—were they going to hang me from the ceiling? I’d just reached the point of discomfort when he stopped. Bam tied off the rope to another loop bolted to the wall. Horse watched me the entire time, as if he expected me to say something. Were they waiting for me to beg for mercy?

They’d be waiting for a while. The thought made me smile, and Gage finally broke the silence.

“Are you on something?”

I looked at him, startled. “What do you mean?”

“You’re way the f*ck too calm,” he said slowly. “Did you take something? If you’re about to OD, tell me. Drowning in your own puke isn’t the way you want to go.”

I shook my head.

“It’s just that this is a huge relief,” I said. His face showed the first emotion I’d seen. Surprise. That struck me as funny, and I started laughing—not gentle, dignified noise. These were real, genuine belly laughs. The kind where you snort your drink out your nose because it catches you by total surprise, and then your friends make fun of you and everyone catches it and you’re all laughing like crazy people. You know what I’m talking about.