by Geri Glenn
Anna
What an asshole! For a minute there, I’d almost thought Reaper might actually be a decent guy, but after the way he’d snapped at Bosco and ordered me to follow him, I can see what a fool I was. The man’s a bossy dick.
I’m so done with men. Unfortunately, besides Charlotte, I don’t know any women well enough to sit and talk to. All my life, I’ve never really had a lot of girlfriends. I don’t know what it is about me that puts them on edge, but they’ve just never seemed to like me much, and for the most part, the feeling’s been mutual.
What I need right now is a friend. And besides my shaky relationship with my sister, I only have one. I dial Knox’s number, not even sure why I need to hear his voice, but needing it now more than ever. Knox is a member of the Kings of Korruption, MontrealChapter. I’d met him when Ryker had sent me there to get away from the Devil’s Rejects MC. I’d fucked up in a big way and owed them a lot of money.
Ryker had held them off, and the club had put me right to work, helping me earn the money the old-fashioned way. I did the books at one of their garages by day, and tended bar in their clubhouse by night. That’s where I’d first met him.
Knox was a giant of a man. He was gruff and dangerous at first glance, but he’d been the only one to extend a hand of friendship to me without an ulterior motive to get inside my pants. We’d been there for each other, and I think after a while, most people assumed I was his old lady, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, during a night of drunken stupidity, we’d attempted to get physical, but it had ended with me confused as hell, and Knox sitting at the end of the bed, his head in his hands, frustration pouring out of him in waves.
I was the first person Knox ever told he was gay. I don’t think he’d even admitted it to himself before that. He was the first person I’d ever told about my childhood and my drug abuse. We’ve been best friends ever since.
I’m about to give up on the ringing phone when he finally answers. “’Bout time you fuckin’ called me, woman.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s been, what? A week?”
Knox chuckles. “Too damn long. Look, I got some shit goin’ down here and can’t talk long. How they treatin’ you there, honey?”
I sigh and flop down on the couch. “All right, I guess. They sure don’t like me much.”
“Can you blame them?” Knox asks. “You got a lot of bridges to rebuild there, girl. But you and I both know you can do it. They’ll see who you are soon enough.”
My eyes fall closed and I let his words wash over me. Knox always knows exactly what to say.
“What is it, Anna?” he asks when I’ve been silent for too long.
“Nothing. I’m okay. Just glad to hear your voice.”
“Anna,” he says, his voice a warning now.
“I swear!” I say with a little laugh. “I’ve just had a crappy couple days. Reaper’s been giving me a hard time, and I’m thankful for your wisdom, Obi Wan.”
He ignores my sad attempt at a joke. “Giving you a hard time how?”
The last thing I need is Knox showing up here to start shit with Reaper. “It’s fine, Knox. I can deal with Reaper.”
He snorts. “Nobody can deal with Reaper. The man’s hard as stone. My advice, stay far away from him.” Someone calls Knox’s name on the other end of the line. “Look, honey, I gotta go. You just start rebuildin’ some of them bridges, yeah?”
I sigh, wishing it was that easy. “Yeah, Knox. Be safe.”
“Always am, honey. Talk soon.” And then he’s gone.
I know Knox is right, of course. I still have so much work to do, but I don’t even know where to start. I didn’t expect to move back here and have everyone accept me with open arms. I’d expected the animosity. I’d expected the struggle with my addiction. What I hadn’t expected was that I would end up having unwelcome feelings for a man that believes I’m at the root of every hardship he’s faced in the last little while, or the fact that he’s totally right. How can I come back from that?
After stewing on it until the sun starts to set, casting the room into gloomy shadows, I come to a decision. It’s time for me to stop worrying so much about what other people think of me. It’s time to concentrate on what I came here to do in the first place, and fuck everyone else. They’re not worth the space in my mind, or my heart.
Reaper
“What do you have on this crazy fuck?”
Cam tosses a thick file folder on the counter. “It took some digging, but I’ve got a few things in here you might find interesting.” He flips open the folder to the first page. “The first thing I noticed when I started digging into your pal, Belanger, was that he’s only been on the police force for about five years, but somehow has managed to climb up the ranks. He’s just months away from being promoted to Sergeant already, which is pretty much unheard of in his position.”
He flips to another section of the file and stabs at a passage written on the page with a meaty finger. “So I dug back even further. Seems our boy here really was a friend of your guy, Tiny. A lifelong friend, as it turns out. Tiny and Belanger were next door neighbors growing up. The two of them spent the majority of their youth together, causing shit wherever they could. I found vandalism, assault, petty theft, breaking and entering, all performed together, all wiped clean because they were under the age of eighteen at the time of the charges.”
I flip through some pages on my own, trying to make sense of it all. “So what does that all mean?”
Cam leans forward and pulls out a stapled stack of pages from the folder. “These are the arrests and busts Belanger has made since he started on the police force. Almost every one of them were small-time drug dealers.”
“You think Tiny was feedin’ him intel on who our dealers were when we were still pushin’ drugs?”
“I know he was,” Cam says. “And I think Belanger was bribing every one of them. They give him a cut, or he drags their asses in.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“The arrests dried up around the time Tiny disappeared, and suddenly, Belanger’s bank account is looking very slim. When you guys stopped the drugs, he didn’t know who to go after, and his rise up on the force, along with his padded wallet, have suffered.”
This is fucking insane. How could Tiny have gotten away with informing on us for all those years without getting caught? Ryker’s going to lose his mind.
“So why’s he all over us now?”
“My guess?” Cam says, flipping the folder closed again. “He’s grasping at straws. He’s pissed about losing his steady flow of cash, and he’s convinced you guys are still behind the city’s drug trade. He also knows Tiny didn’t just disappear.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. What a goddamn mess.
“I’m gonna keep on digging,” Cam continues. “See if I can get some hard proof. Talk to some of the dealers he’s busted. I do know that Lawson’s digging into his past now too. He’s out to prove the guy’s as crooked as they come. Best thing you can do right now is keep your club in the know, and keep yourself out of trouble. He’ll be all over you if he has a reason to haul your ass in.”
After Cam leaves, I head out to my ride, ready to go break the news to the rest of guys. Even though Tiny’s dead for betraying our club, this second betrayal is going to hit just as hard. A club prides itself on loyalty, and Tiny fucked us all when he’d broken that. Now that he’s gone, there’s not much we can do but try to keep our asses in the clear.
I’m just about to slip my helmet on when my phone vibrates at my hip. When I see Sharon’s name, I almost ignore it. I don’t have the time or headspace to deal with anymore of Laurie’s shit right now, and somehow, I just know she’s calling about her. But Sharon rarely calls me, and I can’t bring myself to let her down.
Sighing heavily, I bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Lucas?” Sharon’s voice is shaky, and heavy with tears. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to let you know that Laurie called me again.”
/> That woman is going to end up being the end of me. Once again, the sound of her name has my blood flaming. “What’d she say to you, Sharon? Why do you sound like you’re cryin’?”
Sharon sniffs and takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m fine, really. I just…I just don’t know how things got so bad.”
“What things?”
“She told me to tell you to stop sniffing around, looking for her. Said you’re the last person she needs to deal with right now. She asked me again about that money, but I told her no.” Her voice quivers as she continues. “I told her she needs to learn to take care of her own problems.”
It’s about fucking time. “Bet that pissed her off.”
Sharon sobs softly into the phone. “I’m just so tired of this, Lucas. I’ve always tried so hard to be a good mother to that girl.”
“Did she say anything else?”
Silence follows my question, then I hear her let out a slow, fortifying breath. “She told me I was selfish, and that not giving her that money was me pretty much signing her death certificate. She said not to be surprised when the cops came knocking on my door to tell me she’d been killed, and then she hung up.”
That stupid bitch. Her words had cut Sharon deep, as she knew they would, or she wouldn’t have fucking said them. “That’s bullshit, Sharon. You know it as well as I do. She’s just pissed because she wasn’t able to manipulate you this time.”
“I know,” she whispers.
My eyes fall closed when I hear the defeat in her voice. There are so many things I want to do right now. I want to drive to Sharon’s house and wrap her in a hug, and reassure her that her piece of shit daughter is a master manipulator and is just fine. I want to find Laurie and wring her fucking neck for being such a waste of fucking skin. I want to forget Sharon and Laurie, Anna and Shiv, the Kings, and this goddamn cop. I just want to drink myself into an oblivious stupor and play some fucking Call of Duty. But I can’t. My fucking world is rocking, and I need to deal with it all before everything goes completely to hell around me.
Anna
I was still pissed at Reaper the next day when he showed up to drive me to work. I knew being pissed at him was stupid. It’s not like he even cared, and I had already known he was a bossy ass, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve been bossed around by men my entire life, and I’d decided last night that part of taking back control of my life meant taking no more shit from anyone. Even big scary bikers with tattoos and muscles, and beautiful smiles.
I hear his motorcycle as it hits the end of the driveway. Grabbing my purse, I hurry outside. I’m not about to give him any reason to talk to me today. I just want him to drop me off and get lost. When he comes into view, he parks his bike and slides off his helmet. That’s my first clue that it isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.
As I approach him, with my shoulders back and head held high, I know damn well I’m the vision of a pissed off princess, but I don’t care. Reaper’s eyes scan me from head to toe, and when he reaches my narrowed eyes, he simply smirks and shakes his head.
“See you’re still pissed.”
Pressing my lips together and narrowing my eyes even more, until they’re nothing more than tiny slits, I don’t bother responding. He swings his leg over the bike and takes a step toward me. I don’t mean to tense up, but as he closes the distance, I know that whatever he’s about to do is going to do one of two things. He’s either going to piss me off even more, which knowing him, won’t take much, or he’s going to say something to make me not pissed off and I’m not ready to let it go just yet.
When he reaches me, he steps into my sacred little pissed off bubble and lowers his lips to my ear. “Be pissed all you want, darlin’. That angry flush on your cheeks kinda turns me on.” His words are a whisper, but they scare me more than anything else he’s ever said to me. They scare me because I like them, and I hate that his words are flattering at all.
I take a step back, desperate to get some distance from the heat of his body. I know my eyes are wide, and I don’t know what to say to him. When I take in his grin, the words come to me. “You’re an asshole.”
The laughter that bursts from his lips takes me by surprise. His laugh is deep and rough, and makes the finest hairs on my body stand at attention. It’s the sexiest fucking laugh I’ve ever heard.
“You just figurin’ that out, woman?” he asks as he plops a helmet onto my head, taking no care to maintain my hairstyle in any way. Another fabulous night at work with helmet head. Wonderful.
“No,” I snap, batting his hands away from the chin strap and securing it on my own. “I just thought I’d let you know.”
Reaper just grins and grabs my hand, dragging me toward his bike. Again. It seems like every time I’m with him, he’s dragging me to it. “I can walk on my own, ya know,” I inform him, tugging my hand from his grasp.
He just cocks a brow and climbs onto the motorcycle, starting it up with a deafening rumble. “Well then, hop on, Susie Sunshine. I ain’t got all goddamn day.”
The ride to the bar seems to take forever, even though it’s probably more like twenty minutes. It’s impossible to ignore the feel of Reaper’s body against mine, or the delicious way he smells: laundry soap, deodorant, and leather. I never would’ve thought the three together would be appealing, but in this case, the smell is nearly intoxicating, and it just pisses me off.
He barely has a chance to pull the motorcycle to a complete stop before I’m standing beside it, thrusting his helmet back at him. “Thank you for the ride,” I say without bothering to meet his eyes.
“You’re welcome,” he says, and I don’t dare look, but I can tell from the tone of his voice that he finds this whole exchange amusing. Turning, I attempt to walk toward the door, but Reaper hooks a finger into my belt loop and tugs me back. “Not so fast, crazy lady. You have your phone?”
I roll my eyes and pull my phone from my purse, waving it at him to show him that I do indeed have it. What woman leaves home without her phone? I move to walk away again, but his finger is still in my belt loop, and this time, he tugs on it even harder.
“What?” I cry, throwing my arms out and shooting him a glare.
“That motherfucker shows up here, you call me right away, you hear?”
The anger and annoyance I’d felt with him drains away. His face is serious now, all business. I realize right away that he’s concerned for my safety, and I’m being a total bitch. “I will,” I say, finally meeting his eyes.
Reaper just nods and lets go of my pants. I back away slowly and turn toward the building, heading for the door. Just as I’m about to pull it open, he calls out, “Don’t you have any shirts that don’t show off your tits?”
I look down at my shirt. I like this shirt. It’s cute as hell. Low cut, tight, a pretty pink with a Harley across the chest. “Nope,” I call back over my shoulder and disappear inside.
Reaper
Every single time I’m around Anna, I realize there’s much more to her than I’ve been giving her credit for. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s the cause of a lot of really fucking bad shit that my club has been through, but more and more, I wonder how that came to be. I find myself needing to know her story.
Her admission that Krueger had held a knife to her throat, back when she’d made the deal that sealed the fates of so many of us, had taken me by surprise. I’d seen her as this skank bag temptress that led men around by the dick, and used people to get what she wanted. But that’s not her; I see that now. That’s my ex-wife, and I’d lumped her together with Laurie before knowing the facts. I need to find more facts.
I watch with great interest as Anna steps inside the bar, her hips swaying and her T-shirt showing far too much skin. I’d had a chat with Jake about letting Shiv anywhere near that bar or Anna, so I’m not worried about her safety, but I definitely don’t like the idea of her tending bar for a bunch of drunk, horny men, staring at her tits all goddamn night.
Shaking off that thou
ght, I turn and pull back onto the street, heading for Sharon’s house. The unmarked police car following behind me is unmistakable, but I don’t pay it any mind. I just focus on getting to Sharon. I hadn’t liked how upset she’d sounded yesterday, but I hadn’t been able to get away and check on her.
How Laurie still has the power to crush her own mother like that, I’ll never understand. Maybe it’s the whole maternal instinct bullshit women talk about, but since I have a dick, I just don’t get it. Laurie’s fucked over every single person that’s ever loved her in one way or another, but Sharon is the one that keeps allowing it to happen.
I turn onto the long gravel drive leading up to Sharon’s farmhouse, and make a mental note to get the guys back here to mow the lawn again. As I cut the engine, an almost deafening silence fills the air, surrounding me. My chest feels heavy as I swing my leg over the motorcycle. Something isn’t right.
Sharon’s car is parked in its usual place, but the heavy wooden front door is closed tight. This is not usual. One of the first things Sharon does each morning is open that big door, allowing a steady flow of fresh air in through the screened storm door in front of it. I take the steps slowly, my eyes scanning the yard, but nothing seems out of place. Besides the closed door, everything is the same as always.
Pulling open the screen door, I knock on the inner one, straining to hear footsteps from inside. More silence. Suddenly, a loud thump sounds from behind me. I spin around, finding Laurie’s psycho cat, Priscilla, staring back up at me. She opens her mouth and lets out a loud whining meow, then comes to sit in front of the door, her tail flicking from one side to the other as her head turns from the door to me, and back again.
When Laurie and I had split, Sharon had taken on the moody cat, caring for her as her own. This place was better for her anyway. She had the run of the farm and surrounding fields, and had all the mice she could ever want if she got off her lazy ass long enough to catch one. From the size of her hips, I’d say she’s been catching her fair share.