Reaper's Stand

by Joanna Wylde

  His words caught me, and I looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time. He saw right through us, I realized. He knew London was a prisoner, and he was going to get her out of here. Of course, I had thirty brothers with me, and they’d fight to hold her if I asked them to … but that was a losing battle. This guy might be the only cop, but there were at least six firefighters. We tried to pull any shit, whole fuckin’ city would come down on us. The cop smiled, because he knew he had me. Ignoring him, I strode toward the carriage house, jerking my chin for Skid to join me.

  “They’re takin’ London to the hospital,” I said in a low voice. “Cop knows it’s not right, he’s gonna talk to her. I need the brothers and the evidence out of here before that happens, got me? Just in case.”

  “I hear you,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Fuck. You should’ve taken care of this before you left home—shut her mouth so she’d never talk.”

  “If we’d done that, Em would be dead right now,” I said coldly. “Don’t forget who called nine one one. London said she wanted to help us and she’s got good reasons to keep her word. Those cops won’t be able to get her cousin out. We’re her only hope, so let’s just wait and see what happens.”

  LONDON

  “Reese asked me to find a box for him,” I told the cop, my words deliberate and careful. “He’s my boyfriend. We rode over from Coeur d’Alene last night to visit his daughter. I went up to the storage room and started looking around—then I accidentally bumped the door and it swung shut, locking me in. That’s when I saw Em outside in the backyard, and after nobody heard me shouting, I broke out the window and jumped down.”

  “What was in the box?”

  “Motorcycle parts. I never found it.”

  “If he’s your boyfriend, why isn’t he here to make sure you’re okay?”

  I sighed, because now he was just being stupid on purpose.

  “Because his daughter was bleeding out the last time I saw her, and all I’ve got are a few scratches. I think she takes priority over me for now, don’t you?”

  The cop stared at me without speaking. We’d been through this whole story three times now. Each time he made it clear he didn’t believe I was telling the truth. Each time I made it clear I didn’t care what he believed.

  In some ways I had to appreciate what he was trying to do—all too many police officers turned a blind eye to abuse, which was obviously what he thought was happening here. He was trying to save my life, and if staying alive were my top priority I’d be all over that.

  But rescuing Jessica was my top priority, followed closely by killing the men who’d hurt her. Survival was a distant third.

  “You aren’t going to change your story, are you?” he asked, his voice tired.

  “It’s not a story,” I replied softly. “It’s what happened.”

  “Here’s my card,” he said. “I’m putting my personal cell number on the back. Call me if you decide to talk, or you need help. We both know something’s wrong here, and sooner or later it’ll come crashing down around you. Don’t be afraid to reach out, okay?”

  “Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine.”

  He shook his head and walked away, leaving me alone in the small private room they’d given us. There were lots of tissue boxes placed in strategic spots—I had a feeling this was one of those places they put families right before they told them someone had died. I hoped very much that Reese wasn’t sitting in another room just like this somewhere else in the hospital, mourning his daughter. I needed to find him, or at the very least find someone who could tell me what the hell was going on with Em.

  Standing up hurt, although none of my bruises or cuts were serious. They’d given me a couple of stitches on my forehead, disinfected me, and called it good. I was supposed to keep a close eye on the puncture wound in particular, and see a doctor asap if there were any signs of infection, blah blah blah.

  I grabbed the bag holding the remains of my clothing and clutched it to my chest. (Although I wasn’t sure why they’d bothered to give them back to me, because I’d never be able to wear them again. At least the scrubs they’d given me were comfortable.) I’d already been discharged from the ER, so I was able to just walk right out into the waiting room. No sign of Reese, but I spotted Painter. His expression was grim.

  I walked over to him, scared of whatever news had put that look on his face.

  “How is she?” I asked, not bothering to say hello.

  “Not good,” he said, standing up and facing me. “I guess the baby wasn’t right. They called it an octorpic pregnancy, or some such shit.”

  “Ectopic?”

  “Yeah, that sounds right. The baby wasn’t in the right place. Instead of growing in her womb, it was in one of the tubes to her ovary, and then it busted the whole thing open. That’s what started all the bleeding. They’ve got her in surgery right now, but she’s lost a fuckload of blood, London. They said she might die. The baby never had a shot.”

  I swayed, and he caught me, still holding my eyes.

  “Reese and Gage put me here to watch for you,” he said slowly. “Gage said you were talking to the cops.”

  I shook my head, trying to catch my breath.

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” I told him quietly. “I didn’t give them any information. I’m not trying to get away from the MC, Painter. I want to go to California and save Jessica, and the only way that can happen is if I stick with the club. But right now I need to find Reese. He must be terrified.”

  Painter nodded his head.

  “Pretty sure he is, though he’d never cop to it. I can take you up there … But I need to tell you something first.”

  “What?”

  “Just because you saved Em, and you didn’t talk to the cops? That doesn’t mean you’re safe with us, and Pic isn’t necessarily the one who’ll make that call. You need to understand what you’re doing here, London. If you go upstairs and find Pic, there’s still a chance the club won’t forgive you. Even if they do, that trip to Cali might be one way—this isn’t a game. Give me the word and I’ll go take a piss, let you walk right out that door. Got about two hundred bucks on me and it’s yours. That’s the best I can do.”

  I reached my hands up and cupped his face, smiling at him sadly.

  “That’s one of the most beautiful things anyone’s ever offered me,” I said softly. “But I need to go find Reese, and then I need to go to California to find my girl. Whatever happens, happens, and I’m okay with it. Now where do I need to go—can you show me?”

  “I’ll point you in the right direction, but I shouldn’t go in with you,” he told me.

  “Why not?”

  “Hunter doesn’t need to be seein’ my face right now. We got history, me and Em. I’ve come to terms, but he and I aren’t exactly friends. Don’t wanna stress him out more than I have to.”

  Pieces fell together in my head, and I patted his arm, startled at how different he seemed from the young man I’d met just weeks ago. Painter put up a hell of a front, apparently.

  Then again, so did Reese.

  He escorted me as far as the corridor outside the surgical waiting area. I walked in, spotting Reese and Hunter immediately. Waiting with them were Horse, Ruger, and Bam Bam. There was also a young man wearing Devil’s Jacks colors I didn’t recognize. He was covered in tattoos and looked vaguely hipsterish with his skinny jeans.

  Wow, if Portlanders could do that to a biker, they could turn anyone into a hipster.

  Between him and Hunter sat a young woman whose face was streaked with tears and heavy black mascara. She looked like something out of a horror movie, but at least she showed some emotion. Hunter’s face was completely blank. So was Reese’s. I started toward them, and then stopped—across the room sat the same police officer who’d just been talking to me. Damn, but he was persistent.

  He watched Em’s little support group closely, eyes speculative.

  Shit.

  We didn’t need th
is right now. Maybe a little show would get him off our asses? I started walking toward Reese again, hoping like hell he’d pick up on what I was doing and not blow it. When I got close enough, I flicked my eyes toward the cop, then set myself down in his lap like I had every right to be there. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck and whispered in his ear.

  “That cop over there is trying to save me. I told him you’re my boyfriend, and that I just got stuck in the storeroom looking for something you needed, so treat me like you don’t want to strangle me and maybe he’ll go away.”

  His arms tightened around me hard, and I let myself pretend for a moment that I’d spoken the truth. That he actually was still mine, and that he would be relieved to find me safe.

  “Thanks,” he murmured. “One less thing to worry about.”

  “You don’t trust me,” I said softly. “I understand that. But I’m on your side, Reese. I screwed up and now I’m trying to fix it. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or that things will ever be like they were before, but I won’t betray you again.”

  He nodded, then loosened his grasp. Apparently I wasn’t the only one aware of our audience, because none of the others showed the slightest hint of reaction to our little reunion. Hunter rose to his feet when Reese let me go, and walked over to us.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained. “They tell me she’d be dead already if you hadn’t saved her. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that, London. Guess I just lost it.”

  God, he looked so young and scared.

  I put a hand on his arm, offering him a little squeeze. Easy to forget some of these bikers were essentially still kids, despite how tough they acted. This boy was scared shitless because he’d lost his baby, and he might be losing his girlfriend soon, too.

  “Don’t worry about it. I understood what was happening and didn’t take it personally.”

  The girl who’d been sitting next to him joined us.

  “I’m Kelsey,” she said, looking me over. Her face was tight and strained, and her entire body radiated leashed tension. “I’m this asshole’s sister, which makes Em my sister, too. Thanks for what you did. That took balls.”

  I shrugged.

  “Let’s just hope they can help her.”

  As if summoned by my voice, a doctor stepped into the waiting room and we all looked up, trying to read his expression.

  “You the family?”

  “Yeah,” Reese said, standing to face him. “What’s goin’ on with my girl?”

  “She’s through surgery and it went well, all things considered. You already know she lost a lot of blood. We transfused her in the ER and again on the table, and I think we turned it around. Unfortunately there’s no way the fetus can survive in an ectopic pregnancy like this one. Wouldn’t matter how early we caught it and there’s nothing she could’ve done to prevent it. Sometimes it just happens.”

  “Did you see if it was a boy or a girl?” Hunter asked, his voice anguished.

  “It was a girl,” he replied. “She was about fourteen weeks old. I’m very sorry for your loss. We’re very lucky to have saved the mother—it was close, maybe a matter of minutes that made the difference. The next few hours will be critical, but I’m hopeful she’ll make a full recovery.”

  Horse threw his arm around me and squeezed me tight.

  “Thanks for rescuing our Emmy girl,” he said softly. Ruger nodded at me, and I wasn’t sure what to do or say. Reese seemed lost in his own world and Hunter’s eyes had turned red.

  “How soon until we can visit her?” Kelsey demanded.

  “She’s in recovery right now,” he said. “It’ll be a while before she’s ready for company, and I’d like her to get as much rest as she can. Immediate family only, and the rest of you can visit tomorrow or the day after.”

  “I’ll stay here tonight,” Hunter said. “Unless that’s a problem?”

  The doctor smiled, although the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “The waiting room is all yours,” he replied. “We’ll keep you posted.”

  He turned and walked out, his mind obviously already on the next patient.

  “So now what?” Ruger asked slowly. “This is fucked, but we got three hundred brothers travelin’ down to Cali for a major offensive. We gotta make a plan, because we can’t just leave them hanging.”

  “I’m out,” Hunter said bluntly. He gave his friend a quick glance. “Skid can step up and take over for me. I already told Burke what’s happening.”

  I looked at Reese, wondering if he’d say the same thing. Nobody could blame him if he decided not to go to California—but there was no way in hell I’d get a chance to save Jessica without him there. He looked at me and sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

  “I’ll go,” he said to Hunter. “You take care of my girl for me, and I’ll make sure we got your club’s back.”

  Hunter seemed surprised, and I saw Ruger and Horse exchange a glance I couldn’t interpret.

  “Appreciate that,” Hunter said, turning toward Skid. “You need anything more from me?”

  “Naw, I got it.”

  “I’ll head back to the house,” Reese said slowly, although I could see it was killing him to leave Em. “Call me when she wakes up? I’ll come back and see her before we take off.”

  “Sounds good,” Hunter said. “And Pic?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

  “Gonna hold you to that.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The plane touched down at eleven that night.

  I’d fallen asleep on top of Reese, which was comfortable and wonderful and probably more than I deserved, but I figured I’d take advantage while I could. He seemed to want me with him, and I even felt a slight stirring of hope at one point. Maybe I hadn’t killed everything between us when I pulled that trigger?

  Then I wrestled my head out of my ass, because I couldn’t afford to let hope distract me.

  Still, there was a noticeable change in attitude toward me after we got back from the hospital. Nobody had been at Em and Hunter’s place initially—apparently they’d cleared out in anticipation of a police raid.

  A raid they’d expected because of me.

  The combination of my silence and the fact that I’d saved Em had gone a long way toward rebuilding the club’s goodwill, and nobody bitched when Reese announced I’d be coming with. That meant everything, because if they found Jessica, I needed to be there for her. If they didn’t, I had other, less pleasant work ahead of me.

  Now it was one a.m. and I was sitting in the dark. Waiting. We’d gone to a warehouse in the middle of bumfuck San Diego, which was apparently very similar to regular San Diego, but with more shootings and gang activity. It’d taken quite a bit to convince Reese to let me join them for the actual attack—I think he’d planned for me to hang with the women at someone’s clubhouse or something.

  Fuck that.

  We’d compromised when I swore to stay outside in one of the vehicles (an anonymous-looking cargo van—something I was starting to think was MC standard issue) unless they called for me. Puck stayed, too. During the time we’d been stuck out here, he hadn’t said anything to me. Not. One. Word. I hunched down in the darkness, praying for something to happen. Anything.

  I still wasn’t sure who our targets were or where the rest of the men had gone—we had about thirty in our group total, a mixture of Reapers, Silver Bastards, and some other club of locals who were apparently their allies. None of them wore their distinctive colors and everything was very hush-hush. All of them had ignored me completely, except for Puck, who radiated resentment at being stuck with babysitting duty.

  Fair enough, because I was starting to resent his silent ass, too.

  After what felt like hours, Puck’s phone vibrated. He answered it, grunted a few times, and hung up, turning to look at me with a frown marring his handsome features.

  “They need me inside,” he said.
“You’ll have to come, too—can’t leave you out here by yourself. Keep quiet and don’t say, do, or touch anything. Understand?”

  I felt like telling him that he was young enough to be my son, and I wasn’t fucking stupid. Instead I said, “I understand.”

  Another grunt. Some day he really was going to have to learn some real words, I decided.

  We stepped out of the van and started around the side of the building. Around the corner we found a door guarded by a man I didn’t recognize. He opened it for Puck silently, eyeing me with suspicion as I followed the prospect inside.

  The warehouse surprised me.

  I don’t know what I was expecting … Maybe some kind of big, open space with catwalks and spotlights, and an evil genius laughing maniacally in the background.

  A hairless cat or two?

  Instead, dim security lights showed an interior that looked less like a crime lord’s fortress and more like a Costco. There were long stacks of boxes and bins and pallets forming alleys, some of them piled nearly to the ceiling. A perfectly normal forklift was parked near the door. It didn’t even have a machine gun mounted on the roof or anything.

  Puck pulled out his gun and started down the second row of pallets, which my active imagination immediately pointed out would operate like a cattle chute. You know, the long, narrow paths they use to guide animals to their deaths in slaughterhouses?

  Not a happy thought.

  He crept through the darkness and I followed him like a good girl. Then I tripped on my own shoelace, somehow doing an elaborate dance and shuffle to stay upright without making a sound.

  When I was stable again, I dropped down into a crouch to fix the lace. Puck kept moving ahead, oblivious, and there was no way I could stop him without making a sound. Which was worse? Making noise or getting separated?

  Making noise seemed more likely to get us killed.

  Sucked to be screwing things up less than five minutes into the operation. Kneeling down gave me a whole new perspective on the situation—specifically a perspective low enough to see through a gap in the pallets that was only about two feet high, and maybe eighteen inches wide. On the other side of the gap I could just make out a … Oh shit. That was a body over there—not one of the bikers, he wasn’t wearing the right kind of clothes.