by Geri Glenn
“Now you’ve got my number, and I’ve got yours. That son of a bitch shows up anywhere you are, you fuckin’ call me, yeah?” Shock keeps me silent, but I do manage a slight nod. His gaze drops to my lip and I watch as his eyes darken. “Fucker’s gonna bleed for what he did.”
One rough finger comes up and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “When do you work next?”
“Night after tomorrow,” I manage through the lump in my throat. “Seven, till two in the morning.”
“From now on, you’re on my bike, to and from work. If I can’t take you, one of the others will. As for work, I’ll be here by six thirty to take you in.”
He’s back outside before I can even think of a response. I turn back to the sink and just stand there, my fingers gripping the edge, trying to wrap my head around Reaper’s change in attitude and what it’s doing to me. He seems almost protective, and I can’t help but be both humbled by that, and maybe a little uneasy.
I’ve never seen myself as a victim. Sure, I’ve been in my share of situations where I was one, but I’d gotten myself into them, and I damn well made sure to pull myself out. There has never been a Ryker waiting to sweep me off my feet and place me on his Harley to drive off into the sunset.
I know I can’t deal with Shiv on my own, though. I’d like to think I’m strong enough to resist the lure of what he has to offer, but after the last couple days, I know I’m not. Not only that, but last night, he’d gotten physical. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the worst. Why, though?
That question has been floating around in the back of my mind since Shiv had first approached me in the parking lot. Why does he want me to fall back into the drugs he pushes to anyone he can sell to? It’s not like Shiv doesn’t already have a solid customer base. Why is getting me back into his clientele so important to him?
The questions play over and over again as I finish up in the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea. All I want to do right now is curl up in my bed with my book and this tea, and forget about real life.
Just as I’m about to walk out of the room, the door slides open and Ryker, Jase, and Reaper step inside. They’re faces are all so handsome, but carrying the heavy burdens of exhaustion and determination.
“Hey, Anna,” Jase says. “We’re doin’ a big clean up at my shop tomorrow. Care to lend a hand?”
My eyes sweep to Reaper, but he’s not even looking at me. Will he be there? “Uh…yeah,” I say, glancing back to Jase. “Sure. What time?”
“We leave at seven,” Ryker says. No matter what the topic, every time he speaks to me, Ryker has a way of dismissing me.
“See you then,” I say to Jase and hurry from the room.
“What the fuck did you ask her for?” Ryker asks, his voice drifting down the hall and stopping me in my tracks.
Jase just laughs. “I need all the help I can get, brother. Besides, it’ll give Ellen someone to talk to besides you assholes.”
“I don’t like it,” Ryker grumbles. His attitude hurts, but I can’t fault him for it. It looks like Ryker may be the one I have to prove the most to.
It’s then that I hear their footsteps coming toward me, likely heading for the front door, so I stop my eavesdropping and rush as quietly as I can to the bedroom.
Reaper
Jase’s shop is fucking trashed. The metal shelves that had held all the parts and tools Jase and his men use to build their custom choppers are on the floor, dented, and twisted beyond repair. The parts themselves are scattered on the floor in a pile of what an unfamiliar eye would think to be scrap metal. Even the choppers they’d been building hadn’t escaped the officer’s wrath. The tanks have been stripped off, the bikes all needing complete rebuilds to get them back to resembling anything like a motorcycle.
We’d all filed in behind Jase after he unlocked the door, and as one, we all stand in the cavernous wasteland of his garage and just stare. “Fuckin’ hell,” Jase breathes, his eyes wide as he stares around at his precious shop. “This is hopeless.”
I don’t disagree with him there. The place is fucked. It’ll take a goddamn miracle to get it back up and operating anytime soon.
“It’s not,” Jase’s old lady, Ellen, says from behind him. She steps around her man and pushes to the front of the small crowd. “It’ll just take a little TLC, and we’ll have it up and running in no time.” Her smile is bright as she turns to us, but I can almost see it fading when nobody agrees with her.
“She’s right,” I hear from the back. Anna comes forward and steps up beside Ellen. “We’ll just take it one room at a time.”
Ellen grins and grips her hand gratefully, the two of them surveying the room. “Jase,” she says, authority in her voice. “You and your crew go start working on the choppers. Sort out the parts and get your workspaces in order.” She turns to me and Ryker. “You two, see what you can do about those shelves. If we need new ones, we’ll get them. Bosco brought the van, so you guys can run in and get those.”
Anna nods. “Bosco and I will start sorting through those parts and getting them back into their proper containers so they’re ready when the shelves are.”
Something about her ease of volunteering to work with Bosco sets me on edge. The uneasiness she seems to have with the rest of us doesn’t seem to be there for Bos. I don’t like it at all. But the plan is solid, and who am I to question it? It’s not like I have a better one.
Ryker and I set to work righting the fallen shelves. Most of them are fucked, but there are some that just need a bit of elbow grease to get them back in working order. We spend most of the morning on our tasks, keeping conversation to a minimum. Neither of us are big talkers, so that’s all right by me.
A peal of laughter, paired with a deep chuckle, breaks through my thoughts and echoes through the room as I mindlessly turn a bolt on one of the nearly destroyed shelves. Looking up from my work, my eyes land on Bosco and Anna at the far side of the room. Anna’s on the floor, her legs splayed before her, her arms wrapped around her belly as she laughs. Bosco laughs with her, his grin focused on her, and his body too fucking close for comfort.
For the first time, I realize I’ve never heard Anna laugh before. The sound is sweet and comical, filled with joy, interrupted from time to time by the most adorable, unladylike snort I’ve ever heard. It’s captivating, and suddenly, I want to see that laugh up close.
I watch through narrowed eyes as Bosco reaches out a hand, a gentlemanly offer, to help her up. Anna takes it, laughter still bubbling up from inside her, and together they manage to get her on her feet, her hands gripping his shoulders. Bosco says something and the laughter keeps coming. Visions of storming over there and severing his head from his fucking shoulders fill my mind, but I force myself to look away and keep on working.
I don’t know where this jealousy is coming from, but it’s ridiculous and unwanted. Anna’s at least ten years older than Bosco. If he wants to bang her, what’s it to me? She wouldn’t go there anyway…would she? My eyes unwillingly drift back to the pair of them and I relax a little as I see Bosco step back and bend over to pick up the box he’d been sorting, a broad grin still on his face.
Anna dusts herself off, still chuckling. As if feeling my gaze, she freezes, the smile falling away from her lips as her eyes lift to mine. Suddenly serious, she turns her back and resumes sorting through the endless pile of metal parts.
“Least someone’s havin’ fun,” Ryker drawls.
Not bothering to answer, and needing a moment alone to clear my fucked up head, I pick up a ruined shelf and carry it outside.
Anna
The shop is coming along nicely, and Bosco and I have almost all the parts sorted back into the appropriate containers and back on the shelves the guys had fixed up. Ryker had sent a couple prospects out to pick up some more, and him and Reaper have been assembling them for the last couple hours. Those cops had really done a number on it, though.
After helping Ellen serve everyone a thrown together meal of take
out pizza, wings, and beer, I wander around the space, tossing empty paper plates and napkins into a large black garbage bag. When I get to Ryker, he just tosses his garbage into the bag, gives me an ever-manly chin lift, and gets back to working on his shelf. Reaper throws his in and stares at me for a moment, a tiny furrow forming on his brow before he turns away and ignores me completely. This man confuses the hell out of me.
I take one last glance around the room, tie off the bag and head toward the back door to toss it into the dumpster. I haven’t quite reached the exit yet when Bosco calls my name. I turn and watch as he approaches, all muscles and baby face gorgeousness.
“Hey, uh…” He pauses a beat and looks around the room. “I wanted to talk to you about somethin’.”
A heavy weight settles in the pit of my stomach, sending it sinking to the floor. I’d been waiting for this talk all damn day, and this late in the game, I’d thought I was safe. Apparently, Bosco has other ideas. He takes the bag from my hand and places it on the floor, then grasps my arm gently as he pulls me to the far side of the room where we can talk without being overheard.
“I wanted to talk to you about the other day, at the meeting?” He runs a hand along the back of his neck. “Did you, uh…did you tell anyone?”
I know Bosco has no reason to trust me, but for some reason, the lack of it stings. “I would never,” I whisper, unable to resist looking around. Now that Charlotte knows about my addiction, I don’t have to hide anymore, but the thought of the whole MC knowing my business sets me on edge. They already have enough reason to dislike me. Why give them another?
“Of course not,” I whisper, moving closer, praying nobody will hear. “I would never do that. And I hope you know enough not to either.”
He shakes his head, his hand squeezing my arm gently. “Never. I wouldn’t out you, Anna. It’s nobody’s business but ours.” Relief curls its way inside me, warming my belly and allowing me to relax a little. “Why didn’t you go in?”
The warmth that had been growing disappears in an instant. “I just couldn’t,” I say, avoiding his eyes. “Not then. But I went to one a couple days ago, and I’m going to keep going.” I bring my gaze to his. “I just wasn’t ready yet.”
He nods. The judgement I’d expected to see on his face is nowhere in sight, replaced instead with an understanding that takes me by surprise. “Look, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I have more experience than you might think. If you ever need someone to talk to about…well, about whatever, you call me, yeah?”
I blink back at him, shocked by his kindness, and wondering what the hell a guy as young as him could possibly boast about in experience, but I force myself to nod. I realize then that I’m likely giving him the same judgement I’d been expecting him to show me, and mentally slap myself. Smiling weakly, I simply say, “Thanks, Bosco. I may just take you up on that someday.”
His answering grin is sweet, and then he squeezes my shoulder and walks away, conversation over. I don’t move for a moment. I hate the fact that Bosco knows even a little about my addiction, but maybe having him on my side is a good thing. It can’t hurt to have a friend that knows what it’s like to crave something so ravenously, it threatens to consume you, knowing the whole time that if you give into that craving, you’ll be consumed in a much more life-threatening way.
Turning, I head back toward my abandoned bag of trash and toss it over my shoulder. The sense of being watched has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and I look behind me to see Reaper standing on the far side of the room, his dark, frowning face focused on me, before shifting his gaze to Bosco.
Ryker says something to him that I can’t quite make out, and after one last glance in my direction, Reaper’s gone. Yep. Confusing.
Ignoring the butterflies in my belly his dark gaze had stirred up, I use my hip to thrust open the outer door to the garage and trek across the rear parking lot to the dumpster. After depositing my offering, I take the long way around to the front, happy for a breath of fresh air. Jase’s shop smells like grease, motor oil, and gasoline, smells I’m sure I’ll be washing out of my hair for days.
Just as I come around the side of the building, a flash of light catches my eye. It’s across the road and down a little, but it doesn’t take long for me to see where it came from. The sun glints off the windshield of the dark blue sedan, but the driver isn’t in the driver’s seat. He’s not hiding at all. Camera angled at the front of the shop, a man in jeans and a blazer leans against the hood of the car.
Before he notices me watching him, I put my head down and slow my steps to a lazy wander toward the front door, my heart pounding as I move. Bursting through the door, I rush inside. “Ryker,” I call. “We have a problem.”
Reaper
“Cocksucker’s not even trying to hide,” Jase sneers from beside me at the window.
Jase is right. I don’t know what’s more unsettling. The fact that Belanger is sitting out in front of the shop on what can only be a stakeout, or the fact that he’s sitting outside of his car, not giving one single shit who sees him doing it. No cop on the straight and narrow would survey his suspects so boldly. There’s something seriously wrong with this guy.
Ryker stands behind me, talking to Bax on the phone, pissed as hell and trying to get an answer one way or the other if this kind of stakeout is even legal, and if there’s anything we can do to get the motherfucker to back off. I turn and watch him as he paces, his hand gripping the phone tightly, his face dark. “Fuck,” he mutters. “All right. Thanks, Bax.”
“Cocksucker,” he screams as he crams the phone into his pocket, then kicks at a piece of wood lying on the showroom floor. It goes flying, coming to a crash against the wall, leaving a sizeable dent in its wake. Jase and I exchange a look, but even he knows enough to keep his mouth shut when Ryk’s this worked up. “If we feel Officer Belanger is harassing us, we have the option to file a complaint with the police department,” he informs us through gritted teeth. “Bax knew that wouldn’t fuckin’ fly, so he told us to just ignore the prick and by no means engage. That’ll be the hard part. I’d like to walk right out there and shove my boot up his ass.” He takes a deep breath, shakes out his shoulders and looks to Jase. “Get a hold of the guys. Yet another fuckin’ emergency meeting at base. Church in an hour.”
Jase doesn’t argue. He just pulls out his phone and gets to work. This whole situation is one fucked up mess. Just when the club is starting to walk the straight and narrow, this son of a bitch shows up and starts tracking our every move. He won’t find a damn thing now, but if he starts digging around in our pasts, shit’s gonna hit the fan.
Pulling out my own phone, I cue it up to call Cam and hold it to my ear. It only rings once before he answers. “Yeah?”
“Please tell me you have something on this cocksucker,” I say.
“Actually, I was just about to call you myself. I’d rather not talk on the phone, though. Meet me at your place in an hour.”
“Done.”
Phone call over, I clip the phone back to my belt and look to Ryker. “Delay church a little. Cam’s got somethin’, wants to meet in an hour. I’ll see what he has. Meet you all back at base when I’m done.”
Ryker nods and moves toward the door. “I gotta go sort some shit. Bos, take Anna home.” He disappears without another word.
I look to Bosco, who’s moving toward Anna. A vision of her body wrapped around his as she rides on the back of his bike floats through my head, making my blood boil in an instant. Stepping in front of him, I hold up a hand. “I’ll take Anna. You stay here and help the others sort this shit, and be at base for church.”
He gapes back at me. “But Prez said—”
“I heard damn well what he said, Prospect,” I say, levelling him with a look that brooks no bullshit. Bosco isn’t one to shy away from anyone, even me. He doesn’t scare easily, but he knows the hierarchy of a club and when to shut his fucking mouth.
He straightens and giv
es me a curt nod that might as well be a salute, then looks to Anna. “See ya soon.”
“See ya,” she calls back softly, and I have to hide the sneer I feel coming on.
“Let’s go,” I order, without even glancing in her direction. I head out the door and straight for my ride, clocking Belanger as soon as my boots hit pavement. The cocky fucker has the balls to wave when I look in his direction. Responding with the classic middle finger, I swing my leg over my Harley and start it up.
Anna takes the helmet I offer her from my saddlebag and slips it on, then jumps on behind me. Her mount is much more graceful this time, her fear of touching me appearing to have disappeared. In fact, if her jerky movements are anything to go by, I’d say she’s pissed.
As soon as she’s settled, I roll out of the lot, making sure to pass Belanger as I go. I hold his gaze while passing and he doesn’t even flinch. The smirk on his face tells me loud and clear that he thinks he has us right where he wants us, wherever the fuck that is. I hope to hell whatever Cam has on this guy is good.
Anna clutches her arms around my waist as I weave through traffic and back toward Ryker’s house. I really shouldn’t have volunteered to drive her back, but no way in hell was I going to let her climb on the back of Bosco’s bike. I’d just have to haul ass to make it to my house in time to meet Cam.
As I pull to a stop in front of Ryker’s house, Anna swings off the motorcycle like a pro and thrusts the helmet in my direction. I take it from her and watch as her hair whips out and she storms toward the house.
“You’re welcome,” I call, yelling over the growl of the motor.
She turns, her brows pulled down low over her narrowed eyes. I watch with amusement as her lips form a word I’m pretty sure is “asshole” before she turns again and waltzes inside, slamming the door behind her. Women.