Reaper: Devil's Mayhem MC Romance

by Mary Potter

Well, it seems he knows that I’m awake, so there’s no point pretending anymore. I open my eyes and pull myself into a sitting position, noting that I was right about the couch. I have no intention of looking vulnerable in front of this man.

  Looking him over, I admit that he’s definitely handsome. He’s tall and strong, filling out his jeans and the leather jacket he’s wearing like he’s been poured into them. His stubble accentuates his strong jaw, and his brown, messy hair is almost endearing. His green eyes are staring at me, serious and searching. At his wrist, I can see a hint of green and grey, making me think that there’s a tattoo hiding somewhere on his arm.

  It almost makes me angry. The asshole who thinks it’s okay to buy me has no right to look at me like that. Does he seriously think that I’ll ever feel anything more than contempt for him?

  “Are you okay?” the man repeats, and I notice that he has a glass of water in his head.

  I swallow, suddenly realizing that I’m parched. I don’t want to take anything from this man, but I need to get my strength up if I’m going to escape and get back to Emma. She’s probably frantic by now.

  “Fine,” I say shortly, grudgingly accepting the glass. The cool liquid slides down my throat, soothing me. “Where are we?”

  “My apartment,” he says. “We’ll be okay here for now.”

  My thoughts stutter to a halt. I’m not in the mansion anymore? He took me away? Fuck, he must have offered a hell of a lot of money for that.

  “Sorry about before,” the man continues. “You were attracting too much attention.”

  “What did you expect?” I waspishly shoot back. “I wasn’t going to go calmly with the man who bought me as a slave.”

  He pauses in the act of running his hand through his hair. “What?” he asks, confused. “Bought you?”

  That confuses me. My tense stance relaxes ever so slightly as I frown at him.

  “Yes,” I say, wondering if he’s just stupid. Or maybe someone else paid for me for him, and he has no idea that I’m not here of my own free will. “That’s what I was told.”

  Suddenly, his expression clears, and then he scowls.

  “I met the guy that bought you,” he huffs. “Asshole. No, I didn’t buy you. I rescued you. Carla asked me for help.”

  The words are so unexpected that I stare at him. Actually, now that I’m calming down, he does look a little familiar. He’s my neighbor up the hall, right? I hadn’t formally met him before he left some months ago, though the entire building had all sorts of rumors about him, and then he suddenly returned a few weeks ago. I hadn’t really cared because I had my own crap to deal with, but he had always been pleasant when we had run across each other.

  Not that that means anything. He could easily be lying to me right now.

  “Why should I believe you?” I ask suspiciously.

  “You don’t have to,” he says bluntly. “But the fact is, I need to figure out what happened to you, and you’re the only one who can answer my questions.”

  Straight and to the point. It’s comforting, in a way, after the complete madness of the last twenty-four hours. I’m still not sure if I can trust him, but his powerful presence and no-nonsense attitude are leaving me with little choice but to go with the flow for now.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask with a huff. “And make it quick. If you’ve really rescued me, I need to go back to my daughter.”

  “Your daughter is fine,” the man says. “She and Carla are somewhere safe. We weren’t sure if they were targeting you specifically.”

  “Emma isn’t home?” I ask sharply.

  “She’s at my residence,” the man says.

  Shit. No, this isn’t good. I still have no idea who this guy is, and he now apparently has my daughter in his custody.

  “It’s fine. I’ll take you to her soon,” the man says. “I just need to talk to you first. Time is of the essence if we want to close that place down.”

  It’s hard to think over the sudden panic, but I stamp it down for now. Follow what he says, and then see what happens. If he’s lying, I’ll have to find some way to escape and rescue Emma. Right now, with my daughter on the line, I’m helpless to do anything other than to follow instructions.

  “Fine,” I snap, crossing my arms. “But you answer a question first. Who the hell are you?”

  He blinks as though surprised, then shakes his head. “Sorry,” he offers. “Call me Reaper.”

  There’s no way that’s his real name. A code name of some sort?

  “It’s a nickname,” he adds, perhaps seeing the thoughts flashing across my face. “I’m the president of Corpus Christi Devil's Mayhem, a motorcycle club in the area.”

  Devil’s Mayhem. I’ve heard that name, I think. They had been quiet, as though something had happened, but suddenly, in the last few months, some issues related to drugs and robberies started occurring in their name. It definitely doesn’t convince me to trust him, but I give him a nod to continue.

  “Do you know a man named Chains?” Reaper asks.

  “He owns Night Pleasures,” I say. “He’s my boss. Why?”

  Reaper grimaces. “When I returned, I took control of the club,” he explains. “Chains was causing problems for us, so I kicked him out. He’s since formed his own gang, but we’ve only just discovered the strip club. Technically, the club is owned by Devil's Mayhem, not Chains, so we’re working on getting it back from him.”

  Who would have thought a motorcycle gang would have so much drama? I find myself hanging on his words, interested despite myself. Regardless of all my suspicions, he has a deep, soothing voice that I could listen to for hours, and his straightforward manner is refreshing. It’s an odd contradiction to all my fears about him.

  “That might explain why he was so aggressive lately,” I say. “He was furious the other day. He threw Simon, our bartender, into a table. The girls are terrified of him. He corners them and…”

  I trail off, not wanting to voice it. Reaper nods grimly.

  “That’s what I figured,” he says. “I refuse to leave a strip club in his hands, even if he’s the one that built it with club funds.”

  I look up at him. His hands are clenched at his side, and he’s scowling at the wall in righteous anger. For some reason, it’s difficult to believe that he’s lying to me about this. Without meaning to, I find myself shuffling closer to the warmth of his body.

  “Sorry,” Reaper says, shaking his head. “Can you tell me what happened last night?”

  “It was after I finished my shift,” I explain. “I left the club and was heading home when I ran into Chains and another man in the parking lot.” I wrack my mind for his name but couldn’t find it.

  Reaper’s eyes narrow, and he cups his chin in his hand, thinking. Something seems to have sparked a thought in him.

  “I see him every now and then,” I offer. “Anyway, he said he had a more suitable job for me, and then I was kidnapped. I don’t remember anything before waking in that room and being told what I was there for. I never saw any more of the house, and I have no idea where I was.”

  “You were on the outskirts of Emerald Springs,” Reaper says. He stands. He’s ridiculously tall, I suddenly realize. I’m not short, myself, but I only come up to his shoulder. “That should be enough for now. I’ll take you to your daughter.”

  Those words are music to my ears, and I fling the blanket off my legs as I hurry to stand. Finally.

  As I follow Reaper, however, I can’t help but wonder what will happen next. I’ve got the feeling that I’ve got myself involved in something far bigger than I’d realized.

  Chapter Seven: Kyra

  I don’t really think much of it when Reaper hands me a helmet, too anxious to see Emma and to make sure she’s okay. But then I follow Reaper into the garage and stop short. Of course he has a damn motorcycle. He’d just told me he was the president of a club, right? It makes sense that his main form of travel is a motorcycle.

  “Ever ridden before?�
� Reaper asks as he kicks the stand in and wheels in out of the spot, a knowing look in his eyes as he sees how tightly I’m holding the helmet.

  That raises my hackles. I jam the helmet on my head and tighten it. I don’t need anyone looking down on me.

  “No,” I say stoutly. “Do you have any advice?”

  “Hold tight,” Reaper says, amused, putting his own helmet on and swinging a leg over the bike.

  I hesitate and then follow him, sliding in behind him. The dip in the seat forces me flush against his back, and I wind my arms around his stomach, linking my hands in front of me. It feels a bit off to be this close to a man that I don’t know, especially with what almost just happened to me. The heat from his body makes me flush, and the leather of his jacket rubs against my fingers.

  Then he kicks the bike into gear with a roar. I tighten my grip on him almost unconsciously, startled by the sound.

  “Hold on!” he shouts before thrusting the engine and taking off.

  It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My heart pounds. I know, logically, that we’re not going any faster than a car would, but there’s an odd vulnerability about feeling the wind rushing over me and having no protection from the walls of a car. It’s just me, Reaper, and the road that stretches before us.

  It’s also exhilarating in a way I hadn’t expected.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt so free. For years, I’ve felt trapped in a swiftly tightening box of my own making. No matter how many times I claim that I’ll fight my way out for both myself and Emma, I’ve honestly had little hope of doing so. The best I can do is provide for my daughter in the hopes that she’ll grow up and have a better life than I ever did.

  But this sensation seems to take all of that away. The wind blows through me, tugging at my hair and clothes, snatching all my fears and worries away, even if just for a few moments. It’s me against the world, only the solid form of Reaper in front of me and the bike beneath me to keep me from flying away.

  It’s over before I would like it to be. Reaper pulls up into a neat yard, and the moment my feet hit the ground, it all comes flooding back. My daughter is here, in the hands of a man I don’t know. Chains and Griffin would have sold me as a slave. The life that I knew fell down around me. Yet, it’s harder to ignore now. The fears clamor for attention as if they’re trying to punish me for forgetting them.

  Then a large, strong hand lands on my shoulder, startling me. I look up, blinking, but Reaper doesn’t return my gaze. Instead, he stares straight ahead.

  “Take a breath,” he advises. “It’s not as bad as it feels. Your daughter is ahead and waiting for you.”

  He lifts his hand and strides forward, leaving me to stare at his retreating back in surprise. Gruff and stern, Reaper hadn’t given me the impression that he was any good at comforting others, but his words make the roiling emotions within me settle for now. He’s right. Emma is waiting for me.

  It’s only when I calm that I look up and take note of where we are.

  “Why the hell are you living in an apartment?” I ask, my eyes as wide as saucers as I look up at the massive house sprawled before me.

  It’s nowhere near as large as the mansion that I had been held in. It only has two floors, and it doesn’t sit on a massive estate, but it’s larger than I had expected it to be.

  “It belongs to my parents,” Reaper says with a shrug. “On paper. They’re living in the city now, so the place is mine to look after. I’m just more comfortable where I am.”

  I glance up at him. There’s something in his expression that I can’t really decipher. But then he turns away, and it’s gone.

  “Right,” I say. “Didn’t you say you were part of a motorcycle club? How can you sustain this sort of place?”

  “We get by,” he says shortly and walks away.

  I’m burning with more questions as I hurry to catch up with him, but the air around him is unmistakably cold, telling me that he doesn’t welcome any further intrusion. On any other day, I might have pressed further. I’m nothing if not stubborn. But this man rescued me when he didn’t need to, and he is taking me to see my daughter. I can hold off badgering him for more answers for now.

  It’s clear to see when we step inside that the place hasn’t been lived in for a while. There’s a thin layer of dust everywhere, and the air is still and stale. A lot of the furniture has been covered, and the foyer is dark. I feel a spark of concern. My daughter is in a place like this?

  As we get further in, however, I see a warm light spilling from an open door, and I hear the sound of laughter. My heart lightens, and I quicken my step, pausing in the doorway of a large living room.

  The room is no less abandoned, but the furniture has been pushed aside, and a blanket has been spread on the carpet. Emma is playing with some dolls on it beside Carla, who is smiling through the strain on her face. They both look up when Reaper and I enter.

  “Mom!” Emma shouts, scrambling to her feet and launching herself at me.

  I catch her and wind my arms around her, breathing in her scent as she buries her face in my shoulder. Having her in my arms settles something within me and makes me feel a bit more sure of myself. She’s always been able to give me strength when I need it.

  “Hi, Emma,” I say, smiling down at her. My eyes burn, but I can’t cry, not in front of her. “I’m sorry I’m late getting home.”

  Emma just clutches at me. I doubt either Carla or Reaper told her what was going on, but Emma is a clever girl. She would have known that something was wrong.

  “Kyra, thank god,” Carla says with fervor as she approaches, her breath hitching.

  “I’m okay,” I say to her. “Nothing happened.”

  No, and I have Reaper to thank for that. He’d found me before anything happened. He’d gone out on the word of a stranger, found me, and brought me home. And then he brought me to my daughter, no strings attached.

  He’s already told me what he wants from me. He wants to know what happened. He knows Chains, and the disgust on his face when we spoke of him appeared genuine. He wants to take him down.

  I’m all for that, but it rankles me to leave something this important in a stranger’s hands. He doesn’t know the strip club like I do. He doesn’t know those girls, and he hasn’t felt the helplessness that I felt when I looked out the window and saw Nancy, someone I hadn’t even realized was in trouble.

  A movement behind us makes me stiffen, and I turn my head. An unfamiliar woman with her long black hair pulled into a messy ponytail makes her way into the room, a bottle of water and some plastic cups in hand.

  “Mandy,” Reaper says, taking the cups she’s holding out. “Thanks for this.”

  “It’s fine,” Mandy says. “When Marco called me and said it was urgent, I had to come.”

  “Mandy brought Emma and me here,” Carla explains, maybe seeing my confusion. “Her brother, Fury, works with Reaper.”

  Fury, another nickname. His real name must be Marco if that’s what his sister is calling him. It makes me wonder what Reaper’s real name is.

  “So, what’s the next step?” Mandy asks. She’s chewing gum, and I can hear it popping in her cheeks.

  “I’m going to head over to the club,” Reaper says. “See if I can find any information. If Chains is smart, he’ll lay low, so he won’t be there. He’ll know Kyra is gone by now, and he’ll probably know we had something to do with it.” He bears his teeth, suddenly looking a little frightening. “We’re the only ones who he isn’t allied with that would dare.”

  What world does this man live in? I stare up at him in wonder. His arms and his shoulders are strong, but I can see the weight of his responsibilities in his eyes. He has the bearing of a leader and the darkness of someone who has been through unimaginable pain.

  I blink, and my mind returns, making me realize that I’ve just been gaping at Reaper. I lower my head, thankful that no one seems to have noticed.

  “…around and talk to some of th
e workers,” Reaper is saying. “They should know more.”

  “I can go with you,” I offer, untangling myself from Emma. My daughter’s head drops down onto my shoulder. “I know the girls and the managers, so they’d be more likely to talk to me.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Reaper says. “If Chains is stupid enough to show his face, then you’ll just be putting yourself in danger.”

  The dismissive way that he puts it makes me bristle. I’m not useless, and I know I can help him with this.

  “I know all the managers,” I snap, gently nudging Emma to Carla so that I can stand. “I even know exactly who is on duty tonight. If you take me with you, you’ll definitely get the information you want.”

  “We can get it with or without you,” Reaper says firmly.

  I know, deep down, that he isn’t wrong. Reaper has just pulled me from a bad situation, and I’ll do myself no favors by going back into that place. All it will do is paint a target on my back. But all I can think of is Nancy, wandering through the gardens with a blank smile on her face as though she’s completely given up on getting any sort of help. I can’t leave her there.

  “I’m coming,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “And you can’t stop me.”

  Chapter Eight: Reaper

  I’m not sure what I was expecting when I went to rescue Kyra. All I knew about her was that she was a single mother and that she worked at a strip club to keep herself and her daughter afloat. Maybe I was expecting her to be scared and subdued. I definitely didn’t expect the spitfire I’ve got on my hands.

  From the moment she woke, she’s been defiant and angry. I can understand a bit. She was just kidnapped and almost sold for sex. I’d be upset as well. But I’m not her enemy. I got her out of there. I’m planning on taking down the people who took her. We both know that she’ll be safer if she stays out of the way while I do this.

  So why the fuck is she standing there, glaring at me and trying to throw herself back into danger?

  “You can’t,” I say, trying to curb my frustration. “If you come, you’ll put the entire operation at risk.”