Reaper’s Property_Valley Reapers MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  Amy said she did.

  Lisa looked at the work, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this; we have to put these on show for you.”

  Amy smiled and looked at Logan and me. “With Emerald?” she asked.

  Lisa frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, honey. Maybe in the long run, but for now I think we should focus on making you the center of attention. You don’t want someone else stealing your thunder.”

  Amy wilted a little. “Am I good enough to make it alone?”

  “We can make it happen. I have an upcoming show for developing local artists. I think you’ll be great there. It’s exactly what the L.A. community is looking for, and your work speaks for itself. What do you say?”

  Amy thought about it only for a moment before nodding, agreeing.

  I was happy for her. She was only thirteen – to catch a break like this so young was spectacular. She would be a legend by the time she hit twenty-six, where I was.

  “I want to talk about the skull on Emerald’s work,” Logan said. “Has she told you about that?”

  I had filled Lisa in on what was happening, and my agent nodded. “I’ve heard about it.”

  “I want to know if it’s going to affect Amy’s work. I want to do some digging – find out if others have been threatened or harassed –, but I need your assurance that she’s going to be safe at this art show you have in mind.”

  Lisa nodded. “I understand. The show is perfectly safe, I don’t see a problem. But if it will set you at ease, I’ll ask around as well – see what my other clients have to say.”

  Logan nodded, satisfied. “I have a friend in law enforcement that will help us as well.”

  My stomach turned, and I pressed my fingers to my lips.

  “Are you okay?” Logan asked, leaning into me.

  I’d only had coffee. It had never been a problem before.

  “Fine,” I said, but my voice sounded strained. My stomach turned again, and I knew I would be in trouble if I didn’t make a run for it. I jumped up and ran to the café restroom, barely making it before throwing up. God, it was so embarrassing.

  When I finally came out of the restroom again, Amy and Lisa both looked worried.

  “Are you alright?” Amy asked.

  I nodded. “It’s just a stomach bug. I’ll be fine in no time.”

  “I hope this won’t affect your work for the upcoming show,” Lisa said.

  I shook my head. “I’ll make sure it won’t.”

  I felt Logan’s eyes on me, and when I looked at him, I couldn’t read his expression. His eyes were serious, a pale blue, and I felt uncomfortable. I felt like he was looking right through me; it made me feel vulnerable.

  The meeting finally ended. Lisa took her leave.

  “Will you go wait in the car, sweetheart?” Logan asked, and Amy hugged me before leaving. When she was gone, he turned to me.

  “I’m glad the meeting went so well,” I said, not giving him a chance to speak.

  “Hazel, what was that all about?”

  “What?” I asked innocently. Logan opened his mouth to answer, or to argue, but my phone rang. I had never been more relieved for a way out.

  “I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I said. “I’ll see you around. Have a good day!”

  I walked away, answering the phone a little too cheerfully.

  Chapter Seven

  Amy was a good kid, and her work was fantastic. Lisa had been blown away, and Amy deserved a shot at making it to the big leagues. If I had the opportunities at that age, my life would have been different.

  So, I agreed to take her under my wing. I mentored her after school, working around her extracurricular activities and making my schedule work around hers. And to avoid Logan. He had work during the day, doing whatever it was that the leader of an MC club did, and I could spend time with Amy without worrying.

  I didn’t only teach her how to do art, how to approach the pieces and the tags the right way, and how to approach colors and designs. I also taught her how to lay low, how to avoid a run-in with the law when she was doing something that could get her into trouble. I taught her how to read people because in this world there were more enemies than friends.

  As time progressed, we become something like friends. She was only thirteen, but she opened up to me about her life with Logan.

  “He’s a good dad,” she said after we’d completed a tag and we sat together drinking sodas in the park. “He’s just overbearing sometimes.”

  I could understand that. It had to be hard to raise a teenager all alone.

  “Do you ever miss your mom?” I asked. I had picked up from our conversation that Amy’s mom had left a long time ago.

  “Not really. I didn’t know her or anything; I was too young. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like, you know? To have someone to ask about my period or not to have to Google how to pluck my eyebrows.”

  I nodded. I could understand that. I had been lucky; I had grown up with a mom that had been very involved in my life as a teenager.

  When we finished our sodas, we threw away the cans and left the park.

  “Oh, look,” Amy said, pointing to a tag.

  “Let’s study it.”

  We walked closer. I frowned, noticing the white skull in the bottom right corner with the same words that someone had put on mine. We were coming across them increasingly, and it was starting to worry me.

  “This is creepy,” Amy said, verbalizing what I was thinking.

  “I think we need to talk to your dad about this.”

  “Well, that will be easy,” Amy said, pointing. “He’s right there, following us.”

  I looked over my shoulder. Logan leaned against his parked bike, arms folded, watching us. He had crew members with him, six of them. I was suddenly furious. It was obvious he had been following us, and that pissed me off.

  I marched toward them with Amy trailing behind me.

  “Do you think I can’t take care of her?” I demanded.

  Logan glanced at his men, and they got up as if he’d given them a verbal command, walking away from us.

  “I’m just making sure you’re okay. There are skulls everywhere, and it’s a reason to worry.”

  So, he’d noticed them, too.

  “Well, I don’t need your help,” I said. “I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”

  Logan shook his head. “It’s not wrong of me to check up on my daughter. Once you have your own children, you can be as protective as you like about it.”

  “I think I’ll just do that. It won’t be long.”

  Logan blinked at me. “You’re pregnant.” It wasn’t a question.

  My blood ran cold. I had let it slip. I had said too much. I hadn’t wanted to tell him that I was expecting his baby. I studied his face. He didn’t seem nearly as surprised as he should have been. It was disorientating. It was like he’d known, but he hadn’t said anything.

  I shook my head, not able to go into things. I had to get away from here.

  “Amy,” I said, “I have to go. You’re okay here?”

  She nodded, her eyes guarded. I wasn’t sure what she experienced, but I had to get out of here. I had to flee and protect myself.

  “Good,” I said.

  I turned around and walked away. Logan called out my name once, but I didn’t turn around, and he didn’t try again. Maybe it was beneath him to beg. No, that was what he made me do. And look what had come of it.

  Chapter Eight

  Logan

  I had to admit, the agent Hazel had set us up with knew what she was talking about. She was on top of her game, efficient. The day had come for the first show for local developing artists, and everything was being set up in a disused warehouse close to the water.

  When I pulled up with my bike, the place looked exactly the way it should for the kind of show Lisa was going to host. The building was dilapidated with broken or dusty windows wrapping around the building and a rusted roof. When I
walked in, the place had been done up to make the rust look like urban elegance, not run-down crap. It was impressive.

  “Logan, hi,” Lisa said when I walked toward her. She stood with another artist, fussing about the corner she wanted the artist to use for his work. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  I nodded and waited for Lisa to finish up. I looked around. The warehouse had been divided up into small areas, each for another artist. Desks and noticeboards were set up in between. I assumed it was so clients could enquire after artists or buy artwork. Hazel stood in an open area to the side. She hadn’t seen me yet. I had a moment to stare at her without needing excuses for it.

  She was beautiful. Her blonde hair hung over her shoulders, and she was deep in thought. The last time we had spoken, she’d been furious at me. Her fury was stunning, the anger sparking something in me that made me want to take her and make her mine. But I hated when she was angry with me, and she’d been making a point of avoiding me.

  And I knew why.

  When she looked up at me, her eyes pools of black, I walked to her. I needed to talk to her, to get this out of the way, to take the next step.

  “Hazel,” I started, but Lisa joined us.

  “Right, this is where Amy will set up,” she said. “It’s a good spot. Is she on her way?”

  I shook my head. “That’s what I’m here for. She has a test today that she can’t afford to miss. She’s not going to make it.”

  Lisa nodded. “Alright,” she said, taking the information in her stride. “I’ll let the other artists know. They’re always fighting for a spot.”

  “Just like that?” Hazel asked. She was upset. “Amy just cancels like that, and it’s fine, we’ll slot someone else in?”

  Lisa nodded, smiling at Hazel in an I-know-how-you-feel way. “Sometimes, artists can’t make it, and there are so many that are fighting for a chance. It’s only fair.”

  Hazel glares at me. “At least Amy is giving the rest of the world a fighting chance then.”

  God, that anger, burning on my skin.

  Lisa murmured something about needing to take care of an artist and hurried away. I didn’t know if it was because she had work to do or if the change in the atmosphere around us had become strained.

  “Can I talk to you?” I asked Hazel. “You can’t keep hiding from me.”

  “I’m not hiding from you,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance. “But what goes on in my life is my business, don’t you think?”

  I shook my head. “I disagree. Anything else in your life is up to you, sure. But this time it involves me, too. You didn’t make that baby alone.”

  Hazel looked around to see if someone had heard. “Will you say that any louder?”

  “Have lunch with me. Let’s talk about this. Stop running. I just want to figure out the next step.”

  I expected her to say no, to throw it all back in my face, but she hesitated long enough that I thought she might be considering it. I needed her to talk to me. Her phone rang, interrupting us and I swore under my breath. Hazel answered it.

  “Alice,” she said, “are you alright?” I could hear her friend talking over the phone, and she sounded upset. Hazel frowned, listening. Her eyes lifted to look at me. Something was wrong.

  When Hazel hung up, I asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Alice’s work has skulls on them.”

  “I didn’t know Alice did graffiti, too.”

  Hazel shook her head. “She doesn’t. She does murals at renowned galleries and in public places where she has permission. She’s strictly above ground.”

  I understood what Hazel was trying to say between the lines. Alice didn’t know about Hazel’s alter ego.

  “They’re targeting other artists, too,” I said. “It’s becoming a bigger problem than I thought. I need to get involved more. I’ll put an alert out.”

  I had been investigating the skulls, my men had been keeping their eyes open, but no one had been able to see anything other than the skull that popped up on graffiti everywhere.

  “Alice said she’s sending me a plate number,” Hazel said, looking at her screen. A moment later the phone pinged. “Here it is.” She handed me the phone. A photo of a license plate had come through. It was something I could work with.

  “I have someone I can call to help with this,” I said.

  I had known Earl Hopper since before he’d been a detective. His dad had been a biker, and he had sympathy for the underground scene in a way that no other cop would have. I wouldn’t have brought in the police if I thought we could have handled it ourselves, but Earl could run a plate for me when none of my guys could do something like that. I send the plate to myself before handing her phone back.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said.

  “Will Alice be okay?” Hazel asked. “Until now, we’ve only seen the skulls, but there haven’t been any deaths. She’ll be okay, right?”

  I nodded. “She’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it. I’ll get my guys involved, and the MC will be on the lookout. I’ll look after your friend if you go to lunch with me.”

  I was bribing her like a son of a bitch, but she wouldn’t see me any other way.

  “Classy,” Hazel said, folding her arms. “And I suppose if I say no, you’ll leave her to the mercy of whoever is out there?”

  “I have to get you to come with me somehow.”

  “Fine. For Alice.”

  “Right.”

  However, we both knew that I wouldn’t let anything happen to Alice even if Hazel had said no. Which told me something about Hazel.

  She was trying to avoid me, but there was a part of her that liked me.

  Chapter Nine

  I met Hazel for lunch the next day. I’d been worried she would stand me up, but she was there when I arrived. We went to The Griddle and got a table away from the other patrons.

  “You look sexy,” I said to her when we sat down. She wore jeans so tight they looked painted on and an off-shoulder top that flowed rather than clung to her.

  “Thanks,” Hazel said. She didn’t blush the way I’d hoped she would. She looked unhappy to be with me. I had forced her to come, of course. I had to be fair about her reaction.

  “I want to tell you about Amanda, Amy’s mother.”

  Hazel frowned. I didn’t know what she’d expected today, but I knew it hadn’t been this.

  “I’m sure Amy has mentioned her,” I added.

  Hazel nodded. “Briefly. She misses having a female figure, but she doesn’t remember her – that’s what she told me.”

  I nodded. “When I met Amanda, I was very young. We were in love, foolish. We messed with the system, looked for trouble, tried things we shouldn’t have. When you’re a kid, alcohol and drugs are enticing because they’re wrong. Forbidden fruit and all that.”

  Hazel nodded, listening.

  “We both went down the wrong road. We started using the hard stuff. Cat, E, acid, you name it. We didn’t do heroin. That shit’s dangerous. Or at least, that was what we’d agreed on.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to understand where I’m coming from.”

  Hazel nodded again, and I continued.

  “We both got jobs to fund our addiction, and we got married when we were old enough because no one could tell us we were wrong, that we were too young, that we had to stop and think about it. And I loved her more than anything. We were living the life, partying and fucking around, until Amanda fell pregnant. The drugs were an issue for the baby, so we both quit it. She cleaned herself up for the baby’s sake. I did it for her. It wouldn’t be fair if I were still using when she was trying to do the right thing.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  I nodded. “It wasn’t a walk in the park, but it was the right thing to do. There was no way we were going to fuck up a kid’s life. We’d heard enough stories about what it could do to an unborn baby, and we were rebels, but we weren’t bad parents.
When Amy was born, we said we wouldn’t go back. We had come so far, and Amy needed us. But Amanda started using again. She did it behind my back so I wouldn’t know, thinking I wouldn’t find out with the Reapers keeping an eye out for me. But word gets around and the next thing I knew, rumors had it that Amanda had bought heroin from a new dealer in town.”