by Joanna Wylde
“Doesn’t look like you slept on the couch last night,” he said. “Suppose that means you and Eli—”
“I overheard your meeting at the Starkwood last night,” I said, cutting him off. He didn’t respond for a moment, just stared down at the waffle iron. “It’s time for you to tell me the truth.”
He turned to me, his face serious. “Peaches, it’s complicated—”
“Is it? Because it seems pretty simple to me. You threw Eli under the bus to save your own ass. You fucked me over, too, but that’s kinda minor in comparison. You say it’s complicated. Great. You can take as much time as you want to explain it. But I’m not leaving without answers.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said.
“I know Eli won’t buy the bar until this talk is over,” I countered. “I’m not five years old anymore, okay? I’m an adult. Enough of one to manage your bar for you. So, talk to me.”
Pushing off the counter, I held a mug out to him. He took it, and for the first time in my life, I saw his hand shaking. Like an old man’s hand, the skin like parchment.
“Let’s sit down for this,” he said, turning off the waffle iron. I followed him out of the kitchen to the table. We sat down, and I took a sip of my coffee, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t, and the silence grew more and more uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke.
“You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“That’s a matter of perspective,” I said quietly. “Eli spent five years in prison, covering your ass. Pretty sure this conversation won’t take nearly that long.”
He swallowed. “I’m afraid you’ll never forgive me.”
“That’s a valid concern,” I said quietly. “I can’t see myself forgiving you. At least not anytime soon based on what I know right now.”
“You never pull your punches, do you?”
“Either you tell her, or I will,” Eli said, startling both Gus and me. I looked over at him. He’d pulled on his jeans to come downstairs, but nothing else. His chest was bare, and his hair screamed “sex.” I imagined mine did too. Just seeing him made me feel stronger. Safer. Like the two of us could take on the world. He came to stand next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“Okay,” Gus said, and I heard the resignation in his voice. “So, it was my birthday party that night. Everyone was down at the Starkwood. I’d spent my afternoon trying to figure out some paperwork. Had a few drinks along the way. Probably a few more than I realized. And, yeah, I know I shouldn’t drink and drive. If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t since that night.”
He paused, taking another sip of coffee.
“So, my doorbell rang. It was Mia Eirwood, carrying her baby. Her husband, Kevin, locked them out of the house. No diaper bag, no cell phone. Nothing. That guy…” Gus shook his head. “That guy was human garbage. And Mia was a sweet little thing. Busted ass working to pay all their bills, all the while Kevin was fucking around on her. He was cooking meth out there, too. Someone needed to do something about him.”
“You don’t get to be the hero in this story,” I said, my voice cold. Gus gave a bark of laughter.
“Oh, I’m aware,” he said. “And if I’d been sober, it would have played out different. But that baby was all red from crying, and there was this bruise just starting to form on Mia’s neck. I just kept thinking that the next time, he might kill her. Or that lab of his might blow up. Touch off a fire that’d destroy all our homes. Something bad was gonna happen sooner or later. Figured it’d be best if I made him go away. So, I did. I gave her one of those disposable cell phones and told her to call Gage. Said he’d take care of her. Make sure she had protection. That kind of thing.”
“Did she know what you were planning?” I asked, remembering the gossip. People had whispered that she’d been sleeping with Eli. That they’d plotted the murder together. But there hadn’t been any evidence, and Eli’s plea bargain had specifically stipulated that he’d acted alone.
Last I heard, she’d moved to California.
“Naw, she was just a kid,” Gus said. “Clueless. So, I grabbed my gun and took the pickup over to his place. Figured I’d kill him and then stash the body somewhere before hitting the party.”
Gus’s voice was so casual as he talked about stashing a body. Scary casual, as if he were talking about a bag of recyclables. Not a person. Eli’s hand tightened on my shoulder, reminding me that I wasn’t alone.
“I already told you I was drunk,” Gus continued. His eyes were fixed on the wall across from him. Maybe a part of him had to pretend that he was alone to say these things out loud.
“Wasn’t thinking it through, obviously. Everything went just fine until I ran the truck off the road. Hit my head pretty good in the process, which didn’t help. Couldn’t get the truck out of the ditch, so I called Gage. He got Eli and sent him and Pipes to deal with it. It’s hard to remember the exact order of everything.”
“Gus was drunk,” Eli said flatly. “And he definitely had a concussion. We used Pipes’ big diesel to pull the truck out of the ditch. I sent Pipes and Gus back to the party—wanted to establish at least a partial alibi—and then I drove the pickup back to the house. Parked it in the shed. The plan was for me to ride Gus’s Harley back to the bar. I’d just pulled out of the driveway when a sheriff’s deputy pulled me over.”
“I was an idiot,” Gus said quietly. “About everything. And sloppy. Didn’t even notice an extra car in the Eirwood’s driveway. There was someone inside the house besides just Kevin. Whoever it was saw the whole thing. Apparently, they ransacked the house afterward. About an hour later, someone made an anonymous call to the cops to report what’d happened. You probably remember that part from the appeal.”
“I do remember it,” I said quietly. “Because the sheriff’s deputy had no reason to pull Eli over. He just assumed he was involved because he’s a biker.”
“Exactly,” said Eli. “But we didn’t know that until a lot later.”
“People are too damned prejudiced,” Gus muttered. I shot him a dirty look.
“You actually committed this particular crime, Gus,” I reminded him. “And then Eli went to prison for it. Not you.”
Eli straightened and then stepped around the table to sit down facing me. I reached my hand out toward him, and he took it.
“I made a choice,” Eli said quietly. “Washington has a three strikes law, and Gus already had two. They’d have put him away for life. Worst case, we knew I’d still be eligible for parole.”
“The lawyers said the appeal was strong,” Gus added defensively. “The deputy claimed that he’d stopped Eli based on that 911 call, but they couldn’t produce a witness or a recording. Sure as shit didn’t have a warrant. I knew we’d get Eli out eventually.”
“And what about the Reapers?” I asked. “What did they think?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Eli told me. “None of it. I’m out of prison, and it’s all over. They never tied Gus to the crime at all.”
“Gage said it was bullshit,” Gus said, his voice haunted. “They wanted to fight it all the way. Eli was more worried about protecting me than he was about himself. He figured that if your alibi accounted for him, then they’d start looking at me. You were part of it, too.”
That caught me off guard. “What?”
“Gus is talking out of his ass,” Eli said, shooting him a nasty look.
“He didn’t want you to lose me,” Gus said, ignoring Eli. “He’d already watched you lose me once. Didn’t want to see it again. So, he took the bullet and pleaded out. Lawyers helped him with that part…the whole thing was a setup, ‘cause they were already planning the appeal.”
I couldn’t breathe, trying to comprehend what Gus had just told me.
“Eli?” I finally asked, still trying to wrap my head around it. “Is that true?”
He shrugged, glaring at Gus. “It was a small factor. Not the only, though. So, don’t get too full of yourself. If it makes y
ou feel better, I had plenty of time to think things over while I was locked up. I should’ve fought from the beginning and let it play out naturally. For what it’s worth, Gus didn’t talk to me before offering to sell you the bar. He already knew my feelings on the subject. I was totally against it, and I still am. It’s too fucking dangerous.”
“So, it’s too dangerous for me but okay for you?”
“I’m a member of the club,” Eli said. “I took on that risk when I joined. You’re a civilian.”
“But why should either of us have to be at risk?” I demanded. “Why can’t one of us just buy the Starkwood and run it? No Reapers, no danger, just good food and cold beer!”
“Because the Reapers own half the business,” Gus said quietly.
That threw me.
“No, they don’t,” I said. “You do. James looked up the property values and the liquor license and… Oh, shit. You mean they own it secretly. Like the Mafia or something?”
“I inherited the bar,” Gus said. “You knew that. Well, I didn’t get it free and clear. It came with a lot of debt. Eventually, I wanted to buy a house, but I couldn’t get a loan from a bank. So, I asked the Reapers if they’d be willing to buy a stake in the business. They said yes. There aren’t any records, of course, but Eli has known about it for years.”
“So you’re saying the Reapers Motorcycle Club owns half the bar you wanted me to buy from you,” I said slowly. “Were you planning to tell me this before or after I signed the papers?”
“I’d have told you before,” Gus said. His eyes had reddened, the surface shiny with tears. For an instant, I felt sorry for him. Then I remembered all the times my mom had cried when I brought a tray of waffles to her in bed.
I wanted to believe that he’d have been honest with me before it was too late.
“You’re an incredibly selfish person,” I said, pushing my chair back as I stood. “I don’t even know what to say to you. Other people aren’t just tissues to be used and thrown away when they get inconvenient, Gus. I can’t believe I used to wish you were my dad.”
Turning my back on him, I walked toward the stairs, trying to think. Obviously, I couldn’t buy the bar. But Eli shouldn’t buy it, either. I knew the club was into illegal stuff. I wasn’t a total idiot. But what Gus had described…that was serious shit. They had to be laundering money or something.
The thought stopped me in my tracks.
I’d been doing the Starkwood books for two years. Obviously, not the real books, but I’d seen enough that it’d been confusing at times. Now, everything made so much more sense. This was horrible. But it might also be an opportunity.
“Eli, can I talk to you upstairs?”
* * * *
~Eli~
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I followed Peaches upstairs.
I’d seen her angry plenty of times throughout the years. Hell, she was mad around me more often than not, usually because I provoked her, which was definitely my second favorite way to spend time with her.
I’d never seen Peaches like this, though.
She wasn’t screaming or throwing things. There was no fire in her eyes. If anything, she seemed to be concentrating really hard. Like she had an idea, which was a turn of events that rarely ended well for me. My dick gave an optimistic twitch as she sat down on the bed. The room still smelled like sex, for fuck’s sake, but I had no illusions.
Whatever she wanted to talk about didn’t involve me getting laid. So, when she leaned back against the wall, looking toward the door, I leaned back next to her.
“So this whole time, you were only going to buy half the bar,” she said slowly. “And you always knew that was the deal.”
“Yup. I’ve known it since I turned eighteen. The Reapers have been silent partners since before we were born.”
“And you’re okay with that?” she asked, turning to look at me.
“It is what it is,” I said. “You’re not stupid. You know the Reapers are into all kinds of things. Gus and I are both part of that. I chose this life, and I’m at peace with what it means.”
“And the Reapers had nothing to do with you serving time? They didn’t ask you to do that?”
“No, they didn’t,” I said. “This wasn’t about the club at all. They paid for my lawyer—we have a fund for that—and they bought a pig to roast at the party when I got out. But shooting that guy? That was Gus, all by himself. He called us for help, and we answered because that’s what we do.”
“He may not always be right, but he’s always your brother…” she said, the words trailing off. I nodded, and we both fell silent again. Her hand slipped down, catching mine. I raised it to my mouth, kissing her fingers.
“So, I have this thought,” Peaches said, breaking the silence.
“I’m listening.”
“What if we bought the bar together?” she asked. “If we put our money together, we’d have enough to buy all of them out. Last night, you said you wanted to be partners with me. That it didn’t matter whose name was on the deed. I thought you were full of shit, but that’s the kind of partnership the Reapers have with Gus already, isn’t it?”
“Well, that wasn’t exactly what I was thinking,” I admitted.
Peaches laughed.
“You were thinking more about me putting in my time and energy there the same way I would if I owned a stake. You’d let me make decisions, and we’d be like partners, except your name would be on the deed, and you’d have the power to fire me.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds bad,” I admitted. She offered me her sweetest smile, and suddenly, all I could think about were those lips of hers wrapped around my cock.
“It is bad,” she said. “But I have a different idea. One that could work for both of us. What if I buy out Gus, and you buy out the Reapers? That way, you’re the silent partner, and unlike me, you’d actually have the force to assert your rights if I decided to cheat you.”
I stilled, almost startled by how obvious it was.
“Do you think we could do it?” I asked her. “Let’s assume that the financing works, and the Reapers are on board—and I’m thinking I could make that happen—do you really think you and I could be equal partners in something like that? Without killing each other?”
“Have we killed each other yet?” she asked, her voice softening. She tugged her hand free from mine and then dropped it to my inner thigh, rubbing it back and forth. My dick took notice, and I felt my balls clench. Then her fingers drifted up, cupping me and fondling me through my jeans.
“You came close last night,” I said, trying to follow the conversation. Hard to concentrate, given what she was doing. Peaches touched her lips to mine, just the hint of a teasing kiss. Then she pulled away.
“You’re my best friend, Eli. I’m attracted to you, and I definitely like having sex with you. I’ve spent hundreds—maybe thousands—of hours thinking up new ways to make your life a living hell, yet you still go out of your way to run into me. You like being with me as much as I like being with you.”
“I’d rather be in you,” I said. In a flash, she jerked her hand away from my dick to punch my shoulder. She hit hard, too. Not hard enough to hurt me for real, but she wasn’t playing around, either.
“God, you’re an asshole. I’m trying to have a serious talk here!”
“You know, it turns me on when you’re mad enough to call me names,” I said, which was true. Her eyes had reclaimed their sparkle, and her cheeks were flushed.
“You’re like a two-year-old.”
“And yet you keep coming back for more,” I pointed out. “That’s what you just said, right?”
Peaches opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, her face was serious.
“Are you going to buy the bar with me or not?”
It was a great question. A complicated one, too. Not because I didn’t think we could work together. I knew we could w
ork together. But there was more at stake here than the business.
“Question for you,” I said, catching her hand again. “We’ve known each other for most of our lives. If we buy the bar together, we’re stuck with each other. Maybe not forever, but for a long time.”
“I know.”
“I can’t run a business with you and watch you fuck some other guy, let alone marry him or carry his babies. I’ve always known you’ll settle down someday, and I’m not lying when I say I wish you the best in life. But once you marry someone else, I don’t want to be trapped in a business partnership with you. That’s my definition of hell.”
Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. “So, what’s your question?”
I paused, the words on the tip of my tongue. Once I said them out loud, everything would change. Either she’d be with me or she wouldn’t.
Fuck it.
“If we’re going to buy the Starkwood together, we should get married.”
“Eli—”
“Hear me out, first, okay? I just think that—”
“Eli—”
“Just listen to me. Then—”
“Eli, I’m trying to—”
“Christ, Peaches. Just give me—”
“Shut the fuck up!” she burst out, and I could hear the laughter in her voice. “I keep trying to say yes, but you’re so in love with the sound of your own damned voice that you can’t even—”
My hand caught the back of her head, ending the argument with a kiss. Her arms came around me, pulling me down over her body as she collapsed backward onto the bed.
Time seemed to freeze in that instant, marking the spot where my life transitioned from before to after. Was this really happening?
“Hey!” Peaches said, snapping her fingers at me. “Pay attention.”
“What?”
“I asked if you were serious about me carrying babies,” she said. “But you were zoned out or something. Which isn’t exactly flattering, considering we’re in the middle of something physical here.”