Reaper's Fire (Reapers Motorcycle Club #6)

by Joanna Wylde

  Grabbing it, I flicked off the safety and pulled back the slide, loading a shell. Then I pointed it straight at the lying son of a bitch.

  “It’s time for you to get out of my house,” I said, and this time the words were steady and strong. He studied me warily, one hand firm against his bleeding neck.

  “You know, my club president didn’t think you’d take this very well,” he said, his voice casual. I blinked, confused.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Picnic—he’s my club president. He thought you might be pissed off about me lying to you,” he said. “Guess he was right.”

  “Are we having the same conversation?” I asked, raising the gun higher. What the hell? I had the gun. He was supposed to do what I said, not get all chatty. “Because I feel like maybe you don’t realize what’s happening here. If you don’t leave my house I’m going to shoot you.”

  “Yeah, he was right,” Gage said thoughtfully. “This was a mistake. And I’ll go. But not until you put that down.”

  “I am not putting down the fucking gun!”

  “Okay, keep the gun for now,” he said, sighing. “But could you toss me the belt? This probably won’t be my only fight tonight, and I don’t want my pants falling down during a critical moment.”

  “Do you realize that your life is in danger?” I demanded, my voice growing hysterical. “What’s wrong with you? Your belt doesn’t matter!”

  He took a step toward me, frowning. “But it’s my favorite.”

  My hands started to shake. The gun was heavy, but it wasn’t just that. He wasn’t leaving, and all of a sudden I realized that I might actually have to shoot him.

  I didn’t want to shoot him.

  I didn’t want to shoot anyone. I was the kind of girl who made chocolates and watered flowers and occasionally got drunk on red wine while sitting on my porch swing. Girls like that don’t shoot men in their living rooms.

  “Please go,” I whispered, and he smiled softly, taking another step in my direction. Now we were maybe four feet apart. His eyes held mine prisoner and he cocked his head, holding up both hands in surrender.

  “Give me the belt. I’ll let you keep the gun.”

  My hands shook more, and I reached back blindly, feeling for the belt. I wanted him gone. I needed to think about things. This was all so crazy, and while I wasn’t totally certain how or why I’d found myself holding a gun on him in my living room, the situation needed to end.

  Holy cats, how had my life come to this?

  Wrapping my hand around the belt, I held it out to him and whispered, “You need to leave.”

  He reached toward it, holding my eyes the whole time. Then my hand was flying to the side as he knocked the weapon out of my grip. Suddenly I was down on the floor, both arms pinned high over my head as his large, heavy body covered mine. He kicked my legs open, settling between them, trapping me completely.

  How had that happened?

  Everything was horrible, and it just kept getting worse. I bucked against him again, and then to my disgust I felt tears building in my eyes. I hated crying. There were too many feelings rushing through me all at once and I couldn’t control them all, and now he was on top of me again. I could feel his cock hardening against me. Everything was happening too fast. I wiggled, trying to escape, and he gave a low groan. My heart was about to explode from shock and he was turned on like some kind of sick animal.

  How was this my reality?

  “Just do it,” I said, sniffling.

  He stilled. “Do what?”

  “Rape me or whatever. Just get it over with.”

  Gage was off me in an instant, backing away. “Jesus Christ, who do you think I am?”

  I sat up slowly, wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands. Then I looked at him and shook my head.

  “I have no fucking idea,” I whispered, and it was the absolute truth. I didn’t know him and I never had. “Please leave. I just want you to leave.”

  Gage stared me down, then nodded, his face shaken.

  “I’ll leave for now,” he said. “But it’s not over. We’re not over.”

  “It’s over for tonight.”

  He nodded, grabbing his belt and the gun that had skidded across the floor. I flinched as he stepped toward the sideboard, but all he did was pick up his knife. Then he walked toward the front door, turning once to look back at me.”

  “This isn’t how I planned this, Tinker,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  GAGE

  Moron.

  I was a fucking moron. Pic had warned me not to talk to her, and the bastard had been right. Again. Why that asshole always had to be right I didn’t know, but it was damned annoying.

  When she’d looked up at me and said to go ahead and rape her, something had died inside me. Don’t think I’d ever hated myself quite so much in my entire life as I had in that instant.

  One thing did have me puzzled, though. Why the hell—out of all the lies I’d told her—had it been the kid thing that freaked her out? I got that lying sucked and everyone hates feeling like a sucker, but I’d expected her to fixate on me fucking Talia, not that.

  Guess I’d just add it to the list of shit I needed to deal with next time I saw her.

  List was getting damned long.

  My Reaper brothers had gathered at the same cheap-ass hotel I’d stayed in when I first got to town. I counted twenty-six bikes in the lot, and it looked like they’d called in the cavalry because several had Devil’s Jacks markings. Fucking shame it’d come to this, but I didn’t see how we’d had much choice. With Marsh and his boys still in jail, we’d never get a better chance to make our move.

  Pic stood waiting for me out in the parking lot, along with Horse, Ruger, Bam Bam, and several others. I parked my bike, and he walked over to meet me, catching my hand before pulling me in for a tight hug.

  “Glad to have you back, brother,” he said. “Everything go okay with your girl?”

  And now for the fun part—I hated admitting when he was right.

  “No.”

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  “Never wanted to talk about anything less,” I said shortly, and he laughed.

  “Believe it or not, I understand. Everyone’s waiting. It’s a little crowded inside, but we’re ready for you to brief us on the situation.”

  I followed him into one of the end units, the others filing in behind us. More and more came, filling the room wall to wall.

  “Glad to have you back, bro,” Bam Bam said, slapping my back. Others followed, and I was surprised that even the Devil’s Jacks took a minute to welcome me. Hadn’t realized until that moment just how much I’d missed being around my people. My family.

  “So, here we are,” Pic said, calling the meeting to order. “You all know what Gage has been through these past weeks.”

  “Saw the picture of the bitch you had to bang,” Hunter said. “Sounds like it was rough.”

  Laughs, which I chose to ignore, echoed around the room.

  “Pretty sure she has teeth lining her cunt,” I told them. “Believe me, Talia Jackson is a scary woman—don’t let the tight ass fool you. The real issue here is her brother, Marsh. We’ve all suspected for a long time now that the Reapers weren’t getting their cut from the cross-border traffic, and I’ve seen it for myself. Even if they were, though, it wouldn’t matter. The Nighthawks are falling apart as a club. Dysfunctional as hell. If they were paying, we’d still have to step in at this point, because the whole situation’s a fucking time bomb. Not only that, the club’s out of control. Marsh brought in nothing but useless pieces of shit and now we have to somehow salvage the situation or we’ll lose control of the territory.”

  Hunter’s face turned serious.

  “How’d that happen?” he asked.

  “Most of the leadership and the old guard went down in a raid, all at the same time,” Picnic said. “Most of them are still serving time. Marsh stepped
into the power vacuum. We probably should’ve shut it down then, but we had no idea how toxic he was at that point, and they were holding up their end of the bargain.”

  “There are a few who’ve gotten out since then,” I added. “Four of them—Cord seems to be their leader. Wish I could tell you more, but they wouldn’t give me the time of day, given that I’m one of Marsh’s scabs, at least in their eyes.”

  “And none of them went down this weekend?” Hunter asked.

  “Nope,” I said. “I haven’t seen any of them since earlier in the week. They didn’t go out with us on Friday night and missed his little rampage. He kept us all in the clubhouse that night, asking questions and looking for traitors. Full-on paranoia. I don’t know where they are, but they weren’t with him.”

  “They’re out at the clubhouse right now,” Picnic said. “Waiting to talk to us about what happened. Cord got in touch as soon as he heard the news. Sounds to me like they want to fix things, make it right. You think that’s possible?”

  I considered the question carefully, weighing our options.

  “Tough call,” I finally admitted. “If I knew Cord better, I’d have a better answer for you. I don’t think that he’s an enemy to the Reapers. I think he was outnumbered, so he waited for his moment. There’s still a lot of brothers on the inside, brothers who are good men. They’re the real Nighthawks, not Marsh and his crew.”

  “So we let him step in?” Pic asked.

  “I can’t answer that,” I said. “I wish I had a sense of the man personally, but I don’t. All I know is he hates Marsh.”

  “He was a strong brother in the past,” Bam Bam said. “I’ve ridden with him a few times. Kept his shit tight, not the kind to talk much, but I’d have him at my back in a fight. Impossible situation, when your own president doesn’t do what’s right. I mean, he rats out Marsh, he’s betraying his own brother. He doesn’t, he’s betrayed the Reapers. If it were me, I’d probably watch and wait, too.”

  “Good point,” Pic acknowledged. “Anyone else here want to speak for him or the others?”

  “Pipes is a good man,” Ruger said. “He’s the Nighthawk who stood with Painter and Puck down in California while they were in prison. Still down there, and they’ll be sending Painter back to join him once his parole’s revoked. Painter told me that Cord was one of the few who made to effort to visit Pipes. We make peace with Cord, that could save Painter’s life on the inside.”

  “That’s reason enough right there,” I said. “We have any contact with the other Nighthawks inside?”

  “Some,” Pic said. “But Cord would have more. If we can salvage something of the situation, that’s for the best. Otherwise it leaves us with another power vacuum in the middle of the state. Then we’d have to move men into the area.”

  “You’ll need to move someone into the area no matter what,” Hunter said, frowning. “Just because you’re giving him a shot doesn’t mean we can trust him.”

  “I’ll stay,” I told them. The men around me stirred, although I saw Horse grinning. Smug fucker.

  “You’ve already given up a lot,” Bam Bam said. “You sure you want to do that?”

  “It works for me,” I said, although I’d be damned if I’d discuss the whole Tinker situation with such a large audience.

  “What if we patched them over?” Ruger asked suddenly.

  “The Nighthawks?” Hunter asked. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Not all of them,” Ruger said. “But we know Pipes is solid—he put his life on the line more than once for Painter on the inside. And Cord is solid with him. Until Marsh took over, we never had problem with them, and they aren’t Marsh’s people. What we have here is a good support club that got infected by a cancer. Cut out the cancer, we get the club back.”

  “But to patch them over as Reapers?” Horse asked, skeptical. “That seems a little much.”

  “Not right away,” Ruger said. “But we could give them a chance to redeem themselves, and take it from there. Make them provisional. It’s not a case of patching over the whole club—it’s shutting down the bad club and patching over the members worth saving. Could send a powerful message to any other support club in the area. Stay loyal and you’ll be rewarded. And despite this shit with Marsh, the bulk of the brothers stayed loyal. They’re just stuck in prison. Remember, not one of the fuckers testified against his brothers or the Reapers.”

  “It could work,” Pic said slowly. “I mean, it’s different, but . . . I need to talk to Shade about this. It’s a bigger decision than we can make right here. You guys clear out, get ready for tonight while I talk to him. Regardless of what he says, we need to get out to the clubhouse and meet with the Nighthawks. Otherwise we’ll look weak.”

  Men started to leave, and I stood to join them, but Pic motioned at me to stay. I locked the door behind the brothers as he picked up his phone.

  “Shade, it’s Pic,” he said. “I’m putting you on speaker—want you to hear what’s been going on from Gage, who’s in the room with me.”

  “Gage, I’ve been hearing about your work,” Shade said. He hadn’t been our national president for that long, but in that time he’d more than earned my respect. “Pic told me what happened in Ellensburg yesterday. Sorry to hear that Painter’s in so much trouble. Hate it when a brother goes back inside.”

  “He’s a good man,” I said, and it was true. For years, Painter had seemed less like a brother and more like a dumbass kid, but he’d pulled through for all of us in the end. “Fucking sucks.”

  “Coales will do everything he can,” he said. “And that goes for you, too. I hear you’re probably out of the woods on your charges.”

  “Not yet, but it sounds like I will be.”

  “Glad to hear it. Now, what’s the assessment with the Nighthawks?”

  “Most of them are shit,” Picnic said. “At least, most of those on the outside. We know the originals—the men in prison long term—are good. So are a few who are still on the outside. Cord, for one. He was down to see Pipes in California when Painter and Pipes were on the inside together. Source of our information in the first place. Gage hasn’t had much chance to talk to him because the entire time he’s been here, he very carefully made himself out to be Marsh’s bitch. Cord and his boys have no respect for Marsh and his people, so they ignored Gage.”

  “Guess that’s in his favor,” Shade said. “So tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “So, it goes without saying that we have to get rid of the Nighthawks who were with Marsh,” Pic said. “The new ones and the traitors. That won’t be hard because they’re nothing—not real brothers at all. Just a collection of losers and followers who didn’t even prospect for real. But it does leave us in an interesting position in terms of men like Cord, not to mention the original brothers who are serving longer prison terms. We can’t let a club that’s betrayed us survive, but we also can’t leave a power vacuum. Not only that, there’s a lot of good men who call themselves Nighthawks who have nothing to do with this. Tough situation.”

  “True enough,” Shade said. “You have any suggestions?”

  “I want to kick out the crap and then patch the good men in as Reapers,” Picnic said. Shade didn’t answer for a minute.

  “Your solution to them betraying us is bringing them into our club?” he asked. “Wanna run that by me again?”

  “Okay, I know it sounds crazy,” Pic said. “But think it through—we got good men. Strong brothers. They held this territory for twenty years and the partnership worked. Then a big group of them went down and not one testified against us or each other. Marsh Jackson snuck in and took over while they were helpless, and if anything, we should have been covering their asses. Instead we allowed it to happen. That’s on us, Shade.”

  I stared at my president, impressed. This was all in.

  “I can see that,” Shade said slowly. “But you can’t seriously think I’ll authorize the creation of a new Reapers charter over the phone. Doesn’t work th
at way, bro. We both know this.”

  Picnic laughed.

  “No, I get that,” he said. “But when we go in, we can hold it up as a possibility. Tell the existing brothers—the ones who have kept the faith—that the Nighthawks as they exist right now are done. Then hold this out to them as a compromise. We want them here, we’re going to work with them, and then if things come together, there will be a reward.”

  “Gage, what’s your thought on this?” Shade asked. “You’re the one who’s been on the ground. What’s your sense of the situation?”

  “I don’t know Cord well,” I said. “But my gut tells me he’s a solid guy, if for no other reason than he never fell for Marsh’s shit. They were on the brink of civil war already. Cord and his faction weren’t around on Friday, and for all I know they were planning to make a move against Marsh this weekend. I think it’s worth giving it a shot. Especially since it could have long-term consequences for our boy Painter, who’s headed back down to prison in Cali. Pipes—the Nighthawk brother on the inside—he’s one of our only allies there. We burn all the Nighthawks, we’re burning Painter, too.”

  “Okay, so walk me through it,” Shade said. “Assuming we do this, I’d have to talk to all the presidents and go through the process—we all know this. But I’m willing to hold it out as a possibility if you’ve got a solid plan.”

  “First, the timing is good,” Picnic said. “Marsh and his boys are all still locked up. We don’t have full information on their situation, but it sounds like they found enough product on them to get them for intent to distribute. That means we don’t have to worry about them getting out again for a while. If we go in strong now, we clean out the clubhouse and get rid of anyone who answers to Marsh. They’re gone. Period. Then we reorganize with Cord and his brothers to start over.”

  “I’d stay in town,” Gage said. “Oversee everything. Make me nomad.”

  “Big step,” Shade said. “You sure you’re up for it?”

  “He’s got a girl here,” Pic said. “Pussy-whipped.”

  Shade snorted. “For real, Gage? You want us to make a whole new Reapers chapter just so you can get—”