Reaper

by K. L. Savage

  “Do you not think the club would? They have been nothing but kind to us. We don’t need to have this conversation again, Jenkins.”

  “They’re the reason Dad is dead.”

  “They’re the reason I’m alive,” I counter and huff, quickly standing to my feet. I need to get away from his sour mood. I love my brother, but I can only handle his bad attitude in small doses.

  “Sarah—”

  A loud bang ricochets against the air, interrupting the peaceful silence, and I watch my brother fall to the ground, blood staining his shirt. “Jenkins!” I go to run to him, but another shot rings through the air, hitting the dirt next to my feet. “Jenkins!” I scream at the top of my lungs, watching the bloodstain spread across his chest. Tears fall to my cheeks, and I’m tackled to the ground, the breath whooshing from my lungs from the hard hit.

  “Shh, doll. Stay on the ground. I got you.”

  “Jenkins,” I cry out again. “Jesse, he was shot. He needs help.”

  “I know, but the guys are spreading out now to find out who did this. I need you to stay down on the ground while I go check on Jenkins, okay? Can you do that for me?”

  My body trembles violently, and Reaper’s fingers graze my knuckles. “Sarah, can you do that?” he asks again.

  I nod, digging my chin into the dirt, and salty tears run down my lips. “Ye—yeah,” I stutter. “I can do that.”

  “Good girl.” He kisses my forehead for a few seconds longer than what is necessary, and I hold onto his cut for dear life.

  “I don’t want you to go,” I whimper. I’m scared. What if he gets shot?

  “I’ll be okay. I promise.” He rolls off me, and his weight his instantly missed. Reaper army crawls to where my brother lays, unmoving.

  And I just know he is dead.

  Dirt embeds itself under my nails as I grip the ground for dear life. This isn’t fair. It isn’t fair for me to survive what I did, meet my only family, and then not even a year later have my brother taken from me.

  “Boomer.” Reaper flips my brother over, getting his face from the ground. “Boomer, talk to me. You’re going to be fine, okay? You’re going to be just fine.” The hysteria in Reaper’s voice lets me know that everything may not be fine.

  A few more rounds of gunshots ring through the air, and I cover my head and cry. “Oh, god!” I’m not sure how long the gunfire goes on for. It feels like hours. My body has made itself home in the sand and gravel. My elbows sting for some reason, but I don’t need to worry about that right now.

  I lift my head to look at Reaper and Boomer, and Reaper is pressing against the wound on my brother’s stomach to staunch the bleeding. It’s dark, making it difficult to see, but I notice his hands are coated in something.

  And I know it isn’t dirt.

  Silence falls again.

  The crickets don’t sing like they did moments before. They’re scared, just like the rest of us. My ears ring, and when I hear footsteps getting closer to me, all I see are boots. Everything slows down. I can’t breathe. I kick and fight whoever has ahold of me, refusing to go anywhere. I need to get to my brother.

  “Sarah! Sarah, it’s me. It’s Tongue. I got you. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He holds my hands behind my back, controlling my movements so I don’t hit him in the face, and I finally snap out of it.

  Tool, Slingshot, Bullseye, Pirate, Ghost, and all the other brothers walk from over the hill, everyone carrying guns. The moonlight shines from the handles and silver barrels, and Bullseye’s is still smoking, swirling in the air.

  “Update me,” Doc says as he flies out of the house, half-asleep with bags under his eyes. He just pulled a forty-eight-hour shift at the hospital and had only gotten about an hour of shut eye before all this happened. Reaper ordered him to never put himself in harm’s way because the last thing we needed was something to happen to our only doctor.

  “He has a gunshot wound to the abdomen. There’s a lot of blood, Eric,” Reaper exclaims, never taking his hand off Boomer’s stomach.

  I forgot Doc has an actual name. It isn’t often that I hear it.

  Eric slides to their sides, runs a hand through his hair, and curses. “Fuck, okay. Take him downstairs. He needs surgery. I have everything I need here.”

  “Tool, Slingshot, carry Boomer to Doc’s operating room. Now, and fucking hurry.” Reaper doesn’t move his hands until last minute, not until Tool and Slingshot have Boomer in their arms.

  “He will need blood.”

  “I’ll donate,” I said quickly. “We are the same blood type.”

  “I’ll need more than you can give. What type are you?”

  “A negative.” Any hope I felt at all deflated.

  “I’ll donate too. I’m O negative.”

  “Round up anyone else who can donate, Reaper. With you guys never going to the hospital, I need to keep a stash here.” Doc gives me a saddened look and squeezes my arm before he runs up the steps and into the house to operate on my brother.

  Reaper shucks his shirt off and wipes his hands on it. “Any news? Who was it?”

  “We don’t know.” Ghost sighs. “One of us shot him. We followed the blood trail, but it was too damn dark. We will need to wait until morning. There’s no way the guy survived. Too much blood.”

  “Get a fucking flashlight and go search that desert before the damn birds get to it. I don’t give a fuck if it takes all night. Go!”

  “Yes, Prez. Let’s go boys!” Bullseye whistles and rounds up all the brothers, everyone except Tongue, who still has ahold of my arms.

  There is no hesitation in Bullseye’s voice. He does what the President says, no questions asked. All of them run to the shed on the side of the clubhouse and a few minutes later, the night is pierced with light. At least ten guys disappear beyond the ridge, and I’m scared for every last one of them.

  “Sarah?” Reaper walks to me slowly like I’m a scared animal. “Are you okay?”

  Am I okay? No, no, I’m not fucking okay. I just witnessed my brother getting shot, possibly dying. Where in the fuck does that make me okay? I don’t make eye contact with anyone, not even Reaper, and keep my gaze on the ground. I try to tug free of Tongue’s grip, but he holds firm.

  “You can let me go. I won’t break. I didn’t before, and I won’t now,” I say the words with slight irritation as I rip my arms from him. I hate that everyone sees me as this weakling because I’m a woman. I can handle myself.

  “I don’t think you would. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Tongue states, pushing a piece of my hair out of my face. It’s a sweet gesture, something so opposite of who he seems to be.

  “Go with the rest of them, Tongue. I got this.” Reaper steps in front of me, something a possessive boyfriend would do, and Tongue peers around the big frame blocking me and nods. His boots crunching against the small rocks get further and further away until I can no longer hear them. He is too far away for me to know if he is okay.

  Reaper slides his hands up my arms, spinning me around until I’m locked in his worried gaze. When I see the warmth of his brown eyes, my heart stops racing, and my head begins to swim from the adrenaline crashing. “Are you okay, doll?” Reaper guides me toward the house, but I plant my feet, not wanting to take another step closer.

  “I can’t be in there right now, not while… I just can’t.” I fold my arms in on myself and sit on the stump again. “Oh!” I fall back when I see the muddy dirt mixed with blood, and Reaper catches me with his arms.

  “I’d rather us be inside. I don’t know who is out here, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  My eyes are so raw and swollen, and that’s when I realize I haven’t stopped crying. “Will he be okay?” I ask through a scrambled voice choked with emotion. “Nothing can happen to him, Reaper. He’s my brother. I need him.”

  “I know you do, doll. It’s okay. He is Hawk’s boy. It’s going to take more than a bullet wound to get Boomer down.”

  My legs are weak, and I
stumble over my own two feet. Reaper catches me again, but this time he swings me up into his arms and carries me up the steps. I let him. My body feels so heavy right now. I lay my head on his shoulder and let the tears come as I think about my brother. I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of him falling limp to the ground with blood pooling around him out of my head for the rest of my life.

  Reaper pushes the saloon doors open, and the scent of the clubhouse comforts me. It smells like leather and smoke, something that shouldn’t feel so cozy, but it does. Reaper sits on the couch, never moving me off his lap as he runs his fingers through my hair. His cheek lays on the top of my head, and I wrap my hands around his neck, burying my nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling the warmth and the lingering smell of Irish Spring soap from his skin.

  On any other day, I’d try to rock against him to see if I could get a reaction out of him, but not today. I want to be held right now.

  “I’m scared, Jesse.”

  “No matter what, you have me, okay? You have this club. You won’t ever be alone.”

  I cry until his bare shoulder is wet, and my eyes shut for the final time through the night. Hopefully, when I wake up, this will all be a really bad dream.

  6

  Reaper

  I’m not sure how long we sat on the couch until I realized she fell asleep. I close my eyes and hold her closer. Her heartbeat drums against my chest, steady and strong, just like her. No one else is around, no one else can see me enjoying this moment more than I should, but no one knows how hard it is to go through every single fucking day unable to fully take a breath because I can’t touch her.

  So I’ll take this.

  I’ll hold her all night and comfort her. It’s innocent looking, but internally, it gives me some form of relief. I’m able to take a deep breath for the first time since she stumbled into this clubhouse, all battered and bruised, making me weak in the knees from one look. This woman has me wrapped around her fucking finger.

  I run my fingers through her sun-silk strands. They’re so soft, softer than I thought they would be. Burying my nose, I close my eyes when I smell peaches. Fuck, I love her scent. It calls to me in ways I haven’t been able to understand. It’s like I’ve imprinted on her, like an animal would.

  She deserves better than some old biker. I dream of the day she turns eighteen, but what then? She’s going to be forty, and I’m going to be sixty-one? What life is that for her? I’m nearly past the prime of having kids. I’ve lived my life, and she has just started. It would be selfish of me to take the good years ahead of her.

  And I want to be. Fuck, do I fucking want to be selfish with her, but I know my little maniac deserves better. Maybe she can find someone just as crazy as her. The thought of another man with her … it makes me see red. I want to kill anyone who stops me from having a life with her.

  “Reaper?”

  Shit.

  I clear my throat and lift Sarah off me to lay her on the couch. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I’m not supposed to be doing. Sarah tightens her hold around my neck and whimpers into my shoulder.

  “It’s fine,” Tool says as he sits on the couch beside us. “Don’t wake her. I’m sure she feels safe right now.”

  I swallow, knowing there is an unspoken understanding and question in the air between us. I think I like to pretend everyone has no idea about whatever is between Sarah and me. It makes it easier to handle.

  Tool has blood on his hands and a smear on his neck and cheek. He looks exhausted.

  “How long has it been?” I whisper the best I can as to not wake Sarah, but my voice still booms. She sighs against me, and the puff of her breath is hot on the side of my neck. Goose bumps arise all over my body, and I curse myself for reacting the way I do.

  “A few hours. Doc is still working. Slingshot is helping him. It’s not good, Reaper. Both me and Slingshot donated, but you’re going to have to go down there to give more. The guys need to get together too. We need all we can. Doc can’t stop the bleeding.”

  “Just give me a minute, okay? Let me take her to her room, and we can talk about this. I don’t want her overhearing anything.” To be honest, the last thing I want to do is take her to her room. Having her in my arms feels so good, and I know I won’t get this chance again for a while.

  Knowing she is devastated about her brother makes me hold my shit together. The last thing she needs to see is me falling apart. I’m the backbone of the club; people look up to me for guidance and strength. On the inside, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, ready to go on a murderous rage. If anything happens to Boomer, I’m going to tear this fucking city to the ground to find answers, and if Boomer dies, there won’t be enough men to contain my wrath.

  That kid is the son I never had. When Hawk left me in charge of him, I had convinced myself there was no way I could do it. I knew nothing about kids. I managed to get him this far without getting injured, and now he is fighting for his life.

  Sometimes I wonder if I do more harm than good, especially since the kid has a big fucking chip on his shoulder. The older he gets, the more I think he hates me. He has every right to if I think about it. His father is dead because of the club, he might die because of the club, and I’m pretty sure he knows about how Sarah feels about me.

  If he doesn’t hate me, he is well on his way to.

  I hold Sarah to my chest as I stand. She is so light. Has she been losing weight? I’ll need to make sure she is eating more. The jostle of my steps wakes Sarah, and her hand fists my shirt. “Where are we going?” Sarah’s sleepy voice only softens my heart even more for her.

  “I’m going to take you to your room, so you can sleep, doll.”

  She shakes her head, fluttering those long lashes up at me. The light catches the gold in her irises, and I almost trip and fall. Staring into her eyes is like staring at the rest of my future. It scares the living hell out of me. “No, I don’t want to be alone, Jesse. Please,” she begs, and those beautiful brows start to drown in water.

  I stop in the middle of the hallway. The only lights on are in the main room and the kitchen, and since we are in between, we are in the dark. If I continue straight, like I should if I’m smart, I’ll place her in her room and shut the door behind me.

  But apparently, I’m not a smart man because I take a left to my room instead. This is such a bad idea, and my mind is shouting at me to turn around and go back. Once she is in my room, in my bed, I know I’ll want nothing else in life. I’ll want to see her blonde hair splayed across the pillow and her lips parted as she waits for my kiss.

  Yeah, this isn’t a good idea, but no matter how much I chastise myself for taking another step, it feels right. I’m just a friend helping a friend, that’s all. I open my door and cringe at the mess. I have clothes on the floor, drawers are halfway open with shirts hanging out, and my bed is a wreck.

  “No, I don’t want to lay where another woman laid last night.”

  I freeze halfway as I’m lowering her to the bed. “There was no woman here. Hasn’t been a woman in a while, doll.”

  “Promise?” she asks, the innocence rolling off her tongue. Who still asks for promises?

  Someone who is too young for me, that’s who.

  “I swear it, doll. Get some sleep.”

  “Kiss me goodnight, Jesse.”

  I hate it when she says my name, but not because I don’t like the sound of it. That’s the problem. I love the sound of it. I’ve never heard my name fall off such sweet lips. “You know I can’t do that, doll.”

  “I wish you would. Am I so bad?”

  Where is all this coming from? She thinks I deny her because I don’t find her attractive. This is the last thing we need to be worrying about. “Sarah, this is the last thing we need to be talking about, okay?”

  It doesn’t sit right with me to admit to any feelings I may have for her. She’s fucking seventeen, for Christ’s sake.

  If that means denying and denying until she is e
ighteen, then so be it. It’s a test of will I didn’t know I had, but it’s worth it. She doesn’t understand now, but when she is eighteen, I’ll make sure she understands why I had to do what I did.

  “I’m going to go check on your brother.” I lean down, hover my lips over hers, and move an inch to the left, pressing a kiss onto her heated cheek. “Go back to sleep.” She’s passed out by the time the words are out of my mouth. She hugs my pillow and tightens her arms around it, sighing as if she is the happiest woman on the planet.

  I close the door softly as I leave and rub my eyes to wake up. I need some fucking coffee. I bypass the main room to get to the kitchen and wash my hands before I click the switch on each pot. Everyone is going to want a cup after the night we have had. I don’t wait for the pot to fill. I grab a mug from the cabinet and fill it to the brim, and the liquid streaming out sizzles on the hot pad before I place the carafe back.

  I take a sip, inhaling the steam coming from the black richness, and already the exhaustion slowly seeps out of my limbs and is replaced with new energy. I look toward the basement door, where Doc has set up his operating room, and debate if I want to go check what is going on. I don’t want to interrupt him and make him mess up. That’s the last thing I need on my shoulders.

  When I get back into the living room, all the brothers are there, and a dead body is in the middle of the floor. It’s a good thing I took her to my room. Sarah doesn’t need to see this.

  I do not feel like dealing with this. It’s two in the fucking morning. I press against the bar, my hip taking most of my weight as I watch the guys bicker over what to do. I sip my coffee and wait for one of them to realize I’m here. I’m too tired to bark orders right now.

  “No, he isn’t cartel! He is the fucking mafia.”

  “And how do ye know that, Poodle? Just by looking at him?” Skirt sneers.

  “We haven’t had cartel problems here since the club formed. It isn’t cartel.”

  For the first time, I agree with Poodle. “He’s right. It isn’t cartel,” I say, pushing off the bar with my foot. “Cartel is careless. They would have driven by and did an up-close shot, not far away with a sniper rifle.” I squat and turn the man’s face in my direction. His shirt is off, and there are no tattoos that give away his affiliation. “I don’t think he is mafia either. I think he was hired help.”