Reaper's Fire (Reapers Motorcycle Club #6)

by Joanna Wylde

  “They could at least pretend to give us privacy,” I muttered.

  “That doesn’t seem to be the way you do things around here,” Gage said, turning me slowly but firmly toward his bike. We walked over to it—their eyes burning into my back—and I wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me to dress for a motorcycle ride. (Probably because I wasn’t a motorcycle kind of girl. Duh.) Gage handed me a helmet, and I raised a hand to touch my carefully styled hair.

  “You know, I never considered that we’d be riding your bike,” I admitted. Gage raised a brow, a knowing smile crossing his face.

  “You’re a hell of a rider, or at least you were last night in bed. You weren’t worried about your hair then. Sometimes you gotta let go and enjoy a little, Tinker. Tonight’s for fun, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling silly and almost shy. “So how does this thing work?”

  “You put it on your head,” he replied gently, and I rolled my eyes. “Then I’ll take you for a ride before we grab some dinner at Jack’s.”

  “You’re a smartass.”

  “You get off on it.”

  Reaching for the helmet, I shrugged, pretending he wasn’t right about that.

  • • •

  Five minutes later we’d pulled away from the house. My arms were wrapped tight around his waist and his butt was cradled in my hips, something that gave me no small pleasure (the vibration of the bike between my legs didn’t exactly hurt, either). You’d think that sleeping with him the night before would’ve taken off the edge. If anything, it’d gotten worse—I knew how good Gage was in the sack, and I wanted more.

  The sun was still bright, although it was low in the sky. Air rushed by my face as we headed toward the hills and I wondered where he was taking me. Not that I particularly cared. The last year and a half had been hellish, every moment of every day a crisis. Tonight, though . . . tonight I didn’t have to accomplish anything.

  Tonight I got to relax and enjoy.

  After what felt like no time at all, Gage pulled off the highway onto a county road, and I realized where he was taking me. Malachi Ridge. Not a bad call—the mountain had an incredible view and lots of places where a couple could spend a few minutes getting to know each other in the privacy of the trees. Just the thought made me grin.

  Gage was taking me to a makeout place!

  It was cheesy and silly and wonderful all at once, because I hadn’t done something this fun in years. By the time we pulled over at the top of the ridge, my entire body hummed with anticipation. Gage must’ve been feeling the same thing, because as he turned off the big bike’s engine, he reached down to catch my hand, pushing it toward the bulge of his pants. I copped a feel and laughed.

  My biker tenant wanted me just as bad as I wanted him, no question.

  “So your plan is to take me up here and . . . ?”

  Gage caught my thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Well, I was thinkin’ we could fuck. Sorta wanted to drag you back to my apartment before we left, but I figured this might be better under the circumstances. Not that I care what your dad and Mary Webbly see, but—”

  “I care,” I said, finishing the sentence. I rubbed his dick slowly, imagining it inside of me. Yum. “It’s a strange dynamic, living with your dad at my age. At least he was focused today.”

  He squeezed my fingers before pulling them away from his package.

  “We better get off the bike before I strain something.”

  “Hey, I was just trying to be friendly.”

  “Let me grab a blanket, and then you can be friendly on your back.”

  • • •

  While Gage had clearly been to Malachi Ridge before, I knew it a hell of a lot better than he did. We’d been coming here since I was a kid, first for picnics with my folks and then with my friends during high school. Carrie had lost her virginity to Darren up here, a night I remembered all too well. They’d subjected me and Margarita to their endless making-out noises in the backseat all evening, so when they finally stumbled off to do the deed, we’d been thrilled to get rid of them.

  Since then, I’d always associated the ridge with parties. I’d forgotten how beautiful it was, though. Gage laid out the blanket on a patch of soft grass above rockfall, leaving us with a gorgeous, open view of the valley.

  Catching my hand, Gage pulled me in for another of those powerful kisses he was so good at delivering. I melted into him, allowing myself to simply feel as his hand ran down my back, pressing me into his body. His chest was firm with muscle, and the arms holding me were tight and strong. Everything about him radiated sexy man—even his smell was sexy. Not that he wore any cologne or anything . . . it was all him.

  Male.

  His hands grew more urgent, pulling me down with him to the blanket. The soft ache I’d felt between my legs all day roared to life, sending shivers rushing through me. The need grew as he rolled over me, thrusting a knee between mine, separating and opening me for his touch.

  After another long kiss, Gage tore his lips away to kiss down my neck. Then his hands were catching the bottom on my shirt, tugging it up and over my head. I had a moment of self-consciousness as he looked down on my breasts and stomach. I knew I looked good in the lacy black bra, but my stomach was still covered with those silvery lines, proof that little Tricia had been real and part of my life, even if it was only for a short time.

  Some women called them war wounds.

  I’d lost my war.

  Then Gage kissed one of them gently, tracing along the line with his tongue until he reached my bra. Mouthing my nipple through the soft satin, he slid a hand down between us, unbuttoning my jeans. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensations running through me. Restless need. Smug satisfaction that I was doing something fun and silly for once. The warmth of the air, the smell of smoke . . .

  Opening my eyes, I looked down to find Gage unhooking the front of my bra, which was covered in tiny white specks.

  “What is that?” I asked. Gage kissed the underside of my breast.

  “What?”

  “Those little—”

  He sucked my nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. My eyes closed again as I collapsed into a wilting pile of lust, forgetting all about the specks. I’m not sure how long he played with my breasts after that. Long enough to drive me crazy, until my legs were shifting beneath his, tension coiling tight inside me. This kissing stuff was great but it wasn’t what I needed.

  Pushing at him, I reached down to slide off my pants. Gage watched appreciatively, a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

  “You’re in a hurry.”

  I shot him a look. “You have a condom? If not, I’ve got some in my bag.”

  Gage started to laugh. “You come prepared.”

  I stuck out my tongue at him and he laughed harder.

  “Just grab the condom,” I said rolling my eyes. “Oh, and get your clothes off. If I’m going to be buck naked under the open sky, the least you can do is join me.”

  “You’re bossy in bed,” he said, waggling his brows. “I like it.”

  “You’ll like it more once you’re inside me,” I countered, reaching down to slide my fingers between my legs. His jaw dropped almost like a cartoon as I started fingering myself. “Ticktock, time is passing, Gage. You don’t want me crossing the finish line by myself, do you?”

  Just like that, his vest was off and folded, followed by his shirt, which got no such courtesy. Then he was pulling out his wallet, opening it to fish out a condom. He reached down to unlace his boots and I got frustrated.

  Pushing to my knees, I caught the front of his pants and pulled him toward me commandingly. Gage grinned as I unbuckled his belt before reaching for his zipper. Seconds later the pants were around his knees, hobbling him. I took advantage of the situation to jerk him down to the ground, swinging a leg over to straddle him.

  Gage’s eyes darkened and the grin disappeared.

  “Jesus, you’re perfect,” he said, his voic
e serious. I responded by sliding myself along his dick, slicking him up with the evidence of my desire. The feel of him against my clit—hot and hard as steel, covered with a thin layer of velvet-soft skin . . . it was almost enough to push me over the edge right there.

  Damn.

  “Condom?” I demanded, cocking a brow at him. Gage handed it over wordlessly. Ripping it open with my teeth, I slid down his body, leaning over to give his cock a quick kiss and nibble before rolling the condom down over it. Until that moment, he’d been letting me take the lead. That ended in an instant as his hands hooked through my armpits, jerking me up and over him. I felt him at my opening, then he shoved up, thrusting hard and deep from below. My head tilted back.

  His kisses earlier had been gentle, but there was nothing soft about this. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I moved against him, matching each of his thrusts with one of my own. Every few seconds I ground myself into him, easing the deep, needy burn in my clit as the tension inside me boiled fast and hard.

  “Christ, you should see yourself,” Gage grunted. I ignored him, completely focused on the satisfaction that hung just out of reach. I was close—really damned close. His hands tightened around my hips, working me as our movements grew more frantic. Then he arched his pelvis, filling me in a new way, and I flew over the edge with a moan of strangled relief and collapsed across his chest.

  Gage didn’t miss a beat as he rolled us over, rising on his arms above me, pounding deep as I tried to remember what my name was.

  Oh, yeah. Tinker.

  Opening my eyes, I looked up to find him staring down at me intently, jaw clenched as he thrust over and over, hammering me as the sweat dripped from his face. Then his movements grew more erratic, lips twisting as a sudden, powerful cry of relief broke free. His cock throbbed within me as he filled the condom, shuddering.

  Slowly, Gage lowered himself again, kissing me one last time.

  “Not bad,” I said, smiling at him. “You should get a damned good tip for that kind of service.”

  Gage grinned back. “I’ll be sure to bring the tip jar next time.”

  Catching me, he rolled to his side, tucking me into the crook of his arm. The sky had darkened, the sun very low now. The grade of the hill wasn’t too steep to be comfortable, but it was definitely steep enough that we didn’t have to sit up to watch the sunset.

  “Wow, the smoke from the wildfires makes for a hell of a sunset,” he said.

  “No kidding,” I replied, noticing those tiny white flakes again. I watched as one fell on his glistening chest, reaching over to touch it. It smudged, leaving a gray streak.

  “Ash,” Gage said. “From the fires.”

  I sighed, thinking of Randi’s grandparents. I’d grown up with wildfires—you can’t be surrounded by this much national forest without seeing them—but this year was worse than anything I’d ever experienced. I snuggled into him, relaxed and, for once, not stressed out about anything.

  Okay, so maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, my common sense murmured. Just don’t get cocky and do something stupid, like fall for him.

  Gage kissed the top of my head, one hand rubbing up and down my back in soothing strokes as we watched the sun set. The orange lingered on the hills longer than normal, and then it hit me.

  That lingering orange wasn’t from the sun.

  Those were fires.

  Big fucking fires.

  “You see that?” Gage whispered, and I nodded against his arm. “Fuckin’ unreal.”

  Indeed.

  “Randi—my shop girl—her grandparents are evacuating,” I told him. “I’ve never seen it this bad before.”

  “It’s all still up in the hills,” he reminded me. “I know it’s big, but it’s a long way from town. We should be okay.”

  “I hope so.”

  • • •

  “Next time we do something like that, I need to bring sunscreen,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in the booth. Gage had taken me to Jack’s Roadhouse for dinner. I ordered a burger and fries, because if he couldn’t handle women eating for real in front of him, then we’d have a problem.

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  “Think I burned my boobs up on the mountain,” I admitted, giggling. I had a nice buzz going and was feeling way more relaxed than I probably should’ve . . . but really, what was he going to do to me? We’d already had sex, and it wasn’t like I was holding out for a proposal.

  Gage snorted, then started coughing because I’d caught him mid-drink. That set me off, and he pretended to glare at me. It would’ve been terrifying, too, if he’d managed to keep a straight face.

  “So, I wanted to ask you something,” he said.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “You wanna ride out to the clubhouse after this, meet some of my brothers?”

  I frowned, unsure of what to say. “We’ve had a fun night, but I think—”

  “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve!” a woman shouted across the bar, and I looked up to see Talia Jackson powering toward us, and she looked pissed.

  “Fuck,” Gage muttered. “Let me handle this, okay? Don’t listen to her.”

  I watched as Talia pushed her way through the bar, bearing down on us like an enraged harpy. I had a mental image of her with dirty, ratty wings and fire sparking out of her eyes, setting off a very inappropriate round of giggles. In that instant, Talia’s eyes met mine, and the giggles dissolved—she wanted me dead, that was clear. It was written all over her face. Remembering her big knife, I swallowed as my buzz disappeared.

  It’s all fun and games until someone hacks you with a machete.

  “You’re a fucking whore,” Talia hissed as she reached the table and lunged for me. In an instant Gage was between us. He swung her up and over his shoulder, making for the door as she started screaming. “He’s a liar! He’ll use you and throw you away, but not before he’s pimped you out to all his friends, Tinker Garrett! That’s what they do! He’ll use your business as a front for running drugs, and when you get caught he’ll laugh while you go to jail! The Reapers are a bunch of fucking cowards and—”

  Gage pushed through the door, and while I could still hear her screeching, the words were garbled. Blinking slowly, I looked around the bar to find half the town staring at me. Then Daisy Wasserman slid into the booth across from me, reaching over to catch my hand, giving it a squeeze.

  “You okay, Tinker?” she asked, her face worried. I frowned, trying to decide if I was or not.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Did that just happen? Like, for real? Who does that?”

  Daisy sighed. “Yeah, that was definitely for real. Talia Jackson has to be the trashiest woman I’ve ever met. Why she and her brother had to pick our little town, I’ll never understand. Things were so much better before they got here. You’re shaking.”

  Holding out a hand, I realized she was right. The fingers were trembling like I’d just . . . well, like I’d just been randomly attacked in a bar.

  “I want to go home,” I said, my face burning. It was like the grocery store all over again—why did things like this keep happening to me? I was a nice person. I baked things and paid my taxes. My credit score was excellent, and yet here we were again. Publicly humiliated.

  “You need a ride?” Daisy asked.

  “I should probably find Gage,” I said, trying to clear my thoughts. From outside I heard Talia screaming at him, and shuddered at the thought of going out there. “No, I changed my mind—I’ll have to talk to him later because this is more than I can deal with right now. Can you give me a ride? I don’t have a car here, and I’m not really sober enough to drive anyway.”

  “Sure,” Daisy said, smiling reassuringly. “Want me to ask Jack if we can go out through the kitchen? I’m parked back there.”

  Talia screamed outside, and I heard Gage shouting back at her, like something on a bad reality show.

  “That would be great,” I said, digging through my bag for some cash. Pulling ou
t three twenties, I set them in the center of the table, then sent Gage a quick text.

  ME: Sorry. This is too crazy so I caught a ride home. Let’s talk another time, okay? I had a good time but I don’t want to be around her. Give me some space and then we can talk

  Nice. Very civilized . . . I really liked Gage, but this side of his life didn’t work for me. Not even a little bit. I needed some time to think things over.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I said to Daisy. Eyes followed me as we walked toward the kitchen, weighing on me in silent judgment. My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to find a text from Carrie.

  CARRIE: WTF?????? You had a fight with Talia at Jacks????

  Ugh. Story of my entire childhood—every wall had eyes. Gage was plenty good in the sack, but drama seemed to follow him everywhere. My life was supposed to be a drama-free zone, and his stupid ex-girlfriend was in so much violation it hurt.

  Daisy’s little car was parked behind the bar in a space marked “Reserved for Jack,” and I gave her a quick look. She blushed and shrugged, looking so cute it was almost enough to distract me from the shrieking in the distance.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  GAGE

  “You fucking asshole!” Talia screeched, and it took all my self-control not to toss her ass into the bushes. Not a good idea, though—not with people watching us. Fucking cunt. I set her down gently enough that she didn’t fall, but it wasn’t a smooth landing, either.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I growled at her. “You don’t talk to me, you don’t talk to Tinker. I’m gonna give you one chance to get your ass out of town, understand?”

  Her nostrils flared.

  “Nobody uses Talia Jackson,” she hissed. “I talked to Marsh. I know what happened, and I swear to God, you’ll pay for what you did. All of you will pay!”

  “Whatever,” I said, turning back toward the bar. With a screech she jumped me from behind, wrapping both arms around my neck, squeezing tight enough that my vision started to blacken. Fucking cunt. I elbowed her and she dropped as I spun to face her.