Reaper's Legacy

by Joanna Wylde

  Em stumbled to a halt next to me.

  “What the hell does Painter think he’s doing?” she muttered. “I can’t believe he’s fighting Ruger. That’s fucking stupid.”

  “Why?” I asked, eyes glued to the men circling each other. I could see the top half of Ruger’s panther tattoo above his jeans. It really was perfect for him—every movement was lithe and smooth and utterly predatory.

  “Ruger’s really good,” Em said shortly. “He’ll slaughter Painter.”

  “Is that the one …?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice grim. “That’s him. The guy who won’t put out for me. I hope Ruger kicks his ass.”

  Ruger chose that moment to plow his fist into Painter’s stomach, and the crowd roared. Painter gasped but he stayed upright, recovering surprisingly fast, at least to my uneducated eye.

  “He’s over there,” Maggs said, grabbing my arm again. I looked at her blankly.

  “Who’s over there?”

  “Buck,” she said. “You wanted to talk to him about a job, right?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, forcing myself to look away from the circling boxers. What kind of idiots fought like this on purpose? Maggs dragged me through the crowd some more, coming to a halt next to a big man watching the fight with his arms crossed. He didn’t look too happy.

  “Hey, Buck,” Maggs said brightly. He glanced down at her and raised a brow. I swallowed.

  “Um, we can do this a different time,” I leaned in and whispered to Maggs. “He doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood.”

  “He’s just like that,” she said. “Right, Buck? You’re always kind of a dick, aren’t you?”

  The big man actually smiled.

  “And you’re always kind of a bitch, but I like you anyway,” he said. “You ready to ditch Bolt’s ass and fuck a real man?”

  “I think Jade might have a problem with that, and she’s a helluva good shot.”

  This time the smile reached his eyes.

  “That’s the fuckin’ truth,” he said. “God, but she can be a bitch. Never boring. So who’s this?”

  “This is Sophie,” she said, jerking me forward. From the ring I heard the crack of flesh hitting flesh, and saw Painter staggering in the corner of my eye. Ruger circled him like a cat playing with its food. I forced myself not to pay attention, focusing on Buck instead. Talking to him couldn’t hurt.

  “Sophie’s looking for a job,” Maggs added.

  “Dancing?” he asked, raising a brow. His eyes crawled down my figure, assessing me closely in a new way—all business now.

  “I want to waitress,” I said. “I’ve waited tables in bars before. Never a strip club, but I’m a hard worker. I hear it’s a good place to work.”

  He studied me, face thoughtful.

  “You belong to anyone?”

  Maggs and I looked at each other, and I shook my head.

  “Not really,” I answered.

  “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She—”

  “Shut up, Maggs,” he said, although his tone wasn’t mean. “She can’t talk for herself, she’s got no place in my bar. So what’s the story, you belong to someone or not?”

  There was a sudden flurry of activity between the fighters, a series of fast blows that I couldn’t quite follow in my peripheral vision. Based on the crowd’s reaction, things were getting interesting.

  “You this slow takin’ drink orders?” Buck asked. “’Cause I don’t need a slow waitress.”

  “Sorry,” I said, gathering myself. “Ruger is my son’s uncle.”

  “He give you that ring around your neck?”

  “Um, yeah,” I said, grimacing. “And I live with him. Nothing between us, though. I just really need a job.”

  Buck eyed me speculatively, then glanced at Maggs. She smirked and rolled her eyes. Buck nodded slowly, then leaned over to the man next to him.

  “Hundred bucks on Painter?”

  The man stared at him, brows raising.

  “You fuckin’ insane?”

  “Nope,” Buck said. “We got a bet?”

  “Sure, I’ll take your money. Kid’s almost finished.”

  Buck turned back to me.

  “Show me your tits,” he said.

  My eyes widened.

  “I’m not looking to dance,” I said quickly. “Just wait tables.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” he replied. “But I need to make sure you’ll fill out the uniform right. You can leave your bra, but lift that shirt if you want a job.”

  I glanced at Maggs, who nodded reassuringly.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, bright eyes darting between me, Buck, and the men fighting. “You need a decent rack to waitress at The Line. Go ahead, nobody will care.”

  I took a deep breath, reached down, and pulled up my shirt all the way.

  Two seconds later I heard a huge crash. Suddenly Ruger was between me and Buck, fist slamming into his face. Buck went down and Ruger followed, pounding him brutally.

  I screamed as Maggs jerked me to the side, both of us ducking our heads and huddling together. Three guys jumped on Ruger, pulling him off Buck. He fought against them, cussing and growling. Picnic appeared, followed by Gage, who carried a bat.

  “Shut the fuck up, everyone,” Picnic yelled. “Ruger, pull your shit together! You’re out of the ring, you forfeit. Now stop thinkin’ with your dick, jackass.”

  “Let me go,” Ruger growled.

  “You gonna pull your shit together?” Gage asked. Ruger nodded tightly and the guys let him go. Gage reached down to Buck, giving him a hand up. “We got a problem here?”

  Buck spat out some blood and grinned, the bright red outlining his teeth horrifically and dripping down his chin. He looked like a serial killer.

  “It’s all good,” he said, licking his lips. “Asshole just won a bet for me. Too fuckin’ easy.”

  Then he glanced at me, still crouched next to Maggs, utterly stunned.

  “No job,” he said. “Got enough bitch drama at the bar already. At a fight, though? Perfect. Ruger always wins, fuckin’ beautiful moment. Thanks, sweetheart.”

  “Um, okay,” I said quickly. “I think I’d do better working somewhere else anyway.”

  Ruger glared at me, chest heaving, his entire body covered with a sheen of sweat.

  “You asked him for a job?” he demanded, grabbing my arm and jerking me through the crowd. I tried to break away, but he didn’t even notice.

  “Let me go!”

  Ruger dragged me over to the courtyard wall and pinned me up against it, putting a hand on either side of my head as he got down into my face.

  “What part of this is so fuckin’ complicated?” he asked, as angry as I’d ever seen him. Well, almost … “You don’t just go around flashing your tits. It’s not a difficult concept, Sophie.”

  “Maggs said he needed to check me out for the waitress job,” I told him quickly. “She said it wasn’t personal, not a big deal at all.”

  Ruger’s eyes darkened.

  “When a man asks to see a woman’s tits, it’s always personal,” he said slowly and clearly. “And yours belong to me. No fuckin’ way I’m letting you work at The Line. And keep your damned shirt on. Christ, it’s like I’m talkin’ to myself half the time.”

  “No worries,” I said, not bothering to argue. Pointless. “I’ve had enough of this club, I’m leaving. Em and I plan to watch movies and eat ice cream.”

  Ruger stilled, then reached out and brushed my hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. I felt myself relax a little. Maybe he wasn’t as angry as I’d thought. Then his fingers slid deeper into my hair and his eyes hardened.

  His hand tightened painfully as he jerked my mouth into his. His tongue stabbed deep into my mouth, possessive and dominant. His other hand caught my arm, jerking my body forward into his as he twisted it up and behind me. One knee shoved between my legs, and he slanted his head, taking everything he wanted and more.

  My
body loved it, the faithless bitch.

  The fight had left him sweaty all over, sending out pheromones so strong it’s a wonder I could still stand upright. I wanted to wrap my arms around him but he held me too tight, controlling every move.

  I was starting to sense a pattern with Mr. Don’t-Come-Until-I-Tell-You.

  Finally he pulled away, both of us gasping for breath. He still held me tight, completely incapable of movement even if I’d wanted to get away, which I didn’t. My brain had checked out a while back. His hips ground into me, cock more than ready to finish things off.

  “You belong to me,” he said, voice harsh.

  “Ruger—” I started, but a sudden, loud, feminine scream tore through the air.

  Ruger dropped me and spun around, covering me with his body as he scoped out the situation. The screaming continued, and then I heard a roar of masculine rage. In the dim firelight I saw a man tear across the courtyard, with about ten more guys chasing him. He hit the far wall, jumped high and caught the top with his hands, pulling himself over.

  “Holy shit,” I muttered.

  “Stay out of the way,” Ruger said, turning to me. His eyes were deadly serious, and for once I had every intention of doing exactly what he said. “I’ll send one of the girls over, then you get the fuck outta here. Walk to your cars together. Got me?”

  “Shouldn’t we call the cops?” I asked as the screaming died down. Now I heard crying and angry shouting. “Someone’s hurt. What the hell is going on?”

  “No idea what happened,” Ruger replied. “We’ll get help, no worries. But don’t call the cops. We handle things ourselves, within the club. Do what I say for once and wait for me to send someone over. Then go home and stay there. I can’t deal with this and worry about you, too.”

  I nodded and he kissed me hard, then ran off toward the Armory gate. In the distance I heard bikes roar to life and then a gunshot. I slid down the wall and sat, knees drawn up tight against my chest, and did my best to obey Ruger perfectly.

  Maggs came over ten minutes later. Her face was grim and she had streaks of blood on her arm. I stood and threw my arms around her, clutching her tight.

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  “Fucking Toke,” she muttered. “There’s some sort of club shit going down. They voted on it today, supposed to be a done deal, but Toke—he’s out of Portland—had a few too many beers and decided there should be a recount. He started fighting with Deke and pulled a goddamned knife, waving it around like a jackass.”

  “Who was screaming?” I asked. I pulled away and looked down at her arm. “You’re all bloody. Who got hurt?”

  Her eyes hardened.

  “Em,” she said. “Cocksucker caught Em with his knife.”

  Shock hit me and I felt myself sway.

  “Did anyone call an ambulance?” I asked, glancing around the courtyard. Beyond the fire I saw someone sitting on the ground, surrounded by women.

  “She’s fine, thank God,” Maggs said, her voice harsh and angry. “It’s not a bad cut at all. We’ve got a guy who’ll give her a few stitches, keep the whole thing off the radar.”

  “What about that gunshot?”

  “Pic wasn’t too happy about his baby girl getting cut,” she said, which I figured was a bit of an understatement. “Had to be him. Toke took off, right over the wall, and I’ll bet he’s setting a new land-speed record right now. If he’s smart, he won’t stop ’til he hits Mexico. Em’s a special girl, everyone loves her. Not to mention pulling on his own president. This is more than a fight—it’s club business. Toke just stepped in a giant, steaming pile of shit.”

  I shivered.

  “Let’s go,” Maggs said. “They want all the girls cleared out. Marie and Dancer’ll stick with Em, but the rest of us are no longer welcome. We need to stay out of the way. Hell, at this rate we’ll be posting bail … Be sure to sleep with your phone tonight.”

  “You serious?” I asked, eyes wide.

  “If Pic catches Toke, shit’ll get ugly,” she said. “But don’t worry—our boys are smart. They’ll keep the situation under control.”

  “And the bail thing? That was a joke, right?”

  “Just keep your phone close, okay?”

  Holy hell.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  My hands shook so hard I had trouble getting the keys into the ignition. Maggs offered to follow me home but I wanted to go by myself. I had a lot to think about and I didn’t feel like company. Clearly, Ruger and I had different definitions of what normal, appropriate behavior looked like.

  For one, I felt that long-term relationships should be monogamous. He felt they should be monogamous for me and open for him. Another issue? My parties usually wound down when people ran out of food and got tired.

  His occasionally ended with stabbings and high-speed chases.

  And last, but certainly not least, I tended to think sex should be private. He liked rubbing his sperm on my stomach in front of his friends after branding me with hickies.

  I needed to move out.

  Immediately. No more messing around.

  The more I thought about what had happened, the angrier I got. Em could’ve been killed. I might already have a fucking STD, seeing as I screwed the King of the Man-whores—condom-free—in a damned shed, because I’m classy like that. Oh, and what’s-his-name might’ve raped me in the darkness, just because I’d had the nerve to take out the trash when it needed emptying.

  What the hell was wrong with these people?

  Two hours after pulling into Ruger’s driveway, I’d nearly finished packing up our stuff. We’d only been at his house for a week, so it wasn’t exactly hard. I just threw shit into boxes and then hauled them out to my car. I could probably get it all in one trip, seeing as Noah was still at Kimber’s. I’d call her first thing in the morning and ask if she could put us up for a couple of days.

  Fuck Ruger. Fuck his beautiful house and fuck the Reapers. Fuck their motorcycles, too. I hoped they all got food poisoning at one of their damned pig roasts.

  I’d already finished packing my clothes, the living room, and the bathroom by the time I heard Ruger’s bike pulling into the driveway. Well, wasn’t that just craptastic … I’d planned to be gone before he got home, but if he wanted a fight, I’d give him one. I might not have my life entirely together, but I was pretty sure about one thing—parties that ended with stabbings weren’t part of the long-term plan.

  Neither was being tied to a man in prison, working as a stripper, or worrying about whether or not I was safe without a goddamned brand across my back like a fucking cow.

  I’d started throwing Noah’s clothes into the suitcase when Ruger’s boots thudded down the stairs. He paused in my kitchen and I heard the sound of water filling a glass. So, now it wasn’t good enough for him to put me in danger and invade my privacy? He had to get my glasses dirty, too? I threw Noah’s stuffed dragon, Puff, into the case with a disgusted thud.

  Wait.

  Why the fuck should I care where he got water?

  I wouldn’t be here to wash the damned dishes. Wasn’t my house. The ridiculousness of the night, the horrible way the party ended, packing to move God-knew-where at three in the morning—it all hit me at once. I grabbed Puff and slid down next to the bed, laughing at my own craziness.

  Why had I ever, for even a second, thought we could live in Ruger’s basement?

  I laughed as Ruger walked down the hall. I laughed as he came in the room, and I kept laughing when he knelt down in front of me. I ignored the waves of frustrated anger rolling off him because I just didn’t give a damn. He reached out and caught my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. They cut through me accusingly—like he had the right to an opinion?

  I stopped laughing and gave him my most evil smile.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he asked.

  “I’m packing,” I told him, holding up the dragon for him to see. “We’re leaving. I’m not your whore and Noah’s not your s
on. Your club is insane and I don’t want a damned thing to do with any of you.”

  “Do you remember when I said coming to the party was a bad idea?” he asked me, raising a brow.

  “Yeah, I remember that,” I snapped. “But you know what would’ve really driven the point home? Mentioning that when your parties get wild, girls get stabbed … Because I’m pretty sure we didn’t cover that part. I would’ve remembered, Ruger.”

  “She’ll get her justice,” he said, eyes darkening. “Toke will pay. Deke and Picnic are on it.”

  “Um, hate to break it to you, but Em doesn’t need justice,” I pointed out, voice heavy with sarcasm. “She needs to not get cut with a knife in the first place. Women are finicky that way—we like not getting cut.”

  “It was a horrible accident,” he said slowly. “And despite whatever crazy shit you’re imagining, it’s not something that’s ever happened before.”

  “You’re telling me with a straight face that you never have fights at your clubhouse?”

  “No,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly. “I’m telling you that they don’t usually involve innocent women. Two men want to fight, that’s their business.”

  “And what about women who aren’t so innocent?” I asked. “Where do you draw the line on that one? Do you like to hit girls, Ruger? Is that okay in your stupid club?”

  The air changed between us, growing cold. Oh, that got to him … A whole new level of angry rolled into the room between us, and I suddenly realized taunting him might not be such a great idea.

  “Don’t talk about the club like that,” he said, face like stone. “Show respect if you want to be treated with respect. And you know what? Damned straight I’d hit a woman, if she hit me first. I’m not a knight in shining fucking armor, Sophie. What part of this don’t you get? I’ve been honest with you all along, no bullshit. And yeah, a woman who attacks a man deserves what she gets. She wants to act like a man, she can damned well fight like one.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?” I asked him. He shook his head.