Devil's Game: Reapers Motorcycle Club

by Wylde, Joanna

  “You can use the room on the second floor,” Dad said. “I’ll find some painkillers.”

  I looked back and forth between them, trying to figure out if we’d somehow stumbled into an alternate universe where people showed up randomly beaten and nobody seemed to find it noteworthy.

  “Do either of you want to tell me what the hell happened here? He wasn’t like this when I left him, Dad. I trusted you!”

  My voice rose as I spoke, my hands fluttering. I felt like I should be doing something, but I had no idea what.

  “Babe, you know I promised never to lie to you again, right?” Hunter said. I nodded, stunned by the damage to his face. It was all mottled and bruised. Blood dripped sluggishly out of his mouth, trailing down his chin. He held a hand to his ribs, and his breathing didn’t sound quite right to me. “Well, this is one of those times that I’m not gonna lie, which means no matter how much you ask, you won’t hear a story to make you feel better. You want the truth, you need to accept that. Just help me get clean and patched up, and let’s go to sleep.”

  I glanced back over toward Dad. He was crouched down, digging in one of the cupboards. Then he pulled out a large first-aid kit.

  “I’ll meet you upstairs,” he said. “There’s a bed waiting on the second floor, Hunter. They saved it for you. Bathroom across the hall has a shower. Just try to keep it quiet—don’t want to wake up all the kids. I guess they’re camped out in the game room, which is just down from where you’ll be staying.”

  “Thanks,” Hunter said. “Appreciate the hospitality.”

  “Am I the only one who’s not crazy here?” I demanded suddenly. “What is wrong with you? What did you do to Hunter?”

  They exchanged glances, and Picnic shrugged.

  “I’m starting to get what you meant earlier,” Hunter murmured to him. “I’m not used to this.”

  “Used to what? Having the only not-insane person in the room demand answers from you?”

  “Having someone care this much about me,” he said quietly. “Em, I really, really love you. I think I’ve finally convinced your dad of that. Whatever you’re imagining this is”—he gestured down at himself—“you’re wrong. But believe me when I say I can’t explain it. Just know it all ended right, the good guys won, and I really fucking want to crawl into bed with you and sleep. Pic, you got any Vicodin?”

  My dad nodded, then stepped out of the room.

  “You’re really not going to tell me?”

  “Nope,” he said. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me when I say it was necessary, and you don’t need to worry about it happening again. And Em?”

  “Yes?” I whispered.

  “I didn’t lie to you. Remember that. I could’ve told you all kinds of stories to explain this, but I didn’t. Would’ve made my life a lot easier. I hope that means something to you.”

  I shivered, trying to process his words. Nothing made sense.

  “Baby, can we please go upstairs?” he asked quietly. “I can see you have lots to think about, but I’m not sure I can stay upright much longer.”

  I nodded, forcing myself to snap out of my fog.

  “This isn’t over,” I told him. “But let’s take care of you first. I think you need the ER. If Dad won’t loan me his car, I’ll borrow Kit’s.”

  “There’s an inch of ice covering the road,” he said, and I think he smiled, or at least tried to. Hard to tell under the circumstances. “We already crashed once tonight. I’ll be fine—this isn’t the first beating I’ve taken, and it’s not like they’d do much for me anyway. Tape up my ribs, maybe give me a few stitches. Painkillers. We can do all that here, although I think I’ll take a pass on the stitches. I could use a few more scars, it’ll enhance my reputation with the brothers. They’re always sayin’ I’m too pretty.”

  This time I knew he was smiling.

  “You’re insane,” I said, shaking my head. “What if you have a head injury or something?”

  He sobered.

  “It’s not worth the risk to go back out, babe. There was at least one shooter we didn’t find tonight.”

  I froze.

  “Horse said we didn’t need to worry anymore.”

  “Well, that was probably before we had all the details,” Hunter said, sighing. “Thought it was one guy at first. I’m sure they’ll gather everyone tomorrow and fill them in on what they need to know. I’ll even bet the second guy disappears after this—they weren’t after us in particular, just trying to stir up shit between the clubs. But we have proof now that the cartel was behind this attack, which should be enough to convince the Reapers and the Jacks that we have to work together. Tonight backfired on them in a big way.”

  “Damn,” I whispered. “I guess that’s something. But I get your point. Between the ice and the cartel, I guess staying put is smarter. I suppose we should go upstairs?”

  “What a great idea. Wish I’d thought of that,” he murmured, although I thought I caught a hint of humor in his eyes. Maybe. Like I said, hard to tell with all the swelling. I took his arm and led him carefully across the room, through the fire door, and into the main stairwell.

  “You want to wait for my dad to give you a hand?” I asked, considering the climb ahead of us. I could steady him, but that was about it.

  “No,” Hunter said, his voice wry. “I’d just as soon not get any more help from your father. I’ve had about as much as I can handle.”

  An hour later I crept downstairs. Hunter was out and I doubted anything short of the zombie apocalypse would wake him up. I knew I’d find Dad in the Armory office. He had a couch in there, and with so many people sleeping over, he wouldn’t take up a bed some kid could be using.

  I knocked on the door softly, not wanting to wake up whoever else might be camped out nearby.

  “Give me a minute,” Dad said, and I heard him moving around. Then the door opened and he looked down at me.

  I didn’t smile.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  He sighed. “Come on in.”

  I pushed through as he turned on a lamp, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it. He sat back on the couch. We stared at each other for long seconds.

  “I really miss your mom,” he said finally. “She knew how to handle you girls. I never figured it out.”

  The words caught me off guard and I felt the sudden prickle of tears. I shoved them back ruthlessly.

  “This isn’t about Mom. It’s about us.”

  “What happened between me and Hunter is none of your business. You know that. It’s not your problem and you shouldn’t be worrying about it.”

  I shook my head slowly, wondering if he’d ever get it.

  “No, Dad. It’s definitely my problem when the man I love gets beaten half to death because my father hates the idea of me growing up.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but I held up a hand, cutting him off. His eyes widened.

  “I understand club business,” I continued. “I get that you’re the president and we all have to do what you say. I’ve never disrespected you in front of your brothers. But this isn’t about the club, it’s about our family and you need to listen up, because I am not fucking around right now. If you ever touch my man again, you’re dead to me. Dead. I won’t talk to you, I won’t look at you, and I sure as shit won’t let you see any grandchildren down the road. We clear?”

  He sighed again.

  “We’re clear.”

  I turned to leave, but he stood up and caught me, tugging me into a hug. I held out for a second, then let the familiar sense of safety and belonging I felt in his arms surround me.

  “I’ll always be your father,” he said quietly, resting his chin on my head. “Me and Hunter, we worked things out. He understands me and I think I’m startin’ to understand him. But no matter how much you love him or where you end up, you’ll never stop being my little girl. I love you, Em.”

  This time I let the tears come.

  “I love you, too, Da
ddy.”

  A moment later I pulled away and looked up, studying his face.

  “I need to get back to Hunter now.”

  He nodded at me, running a hand through his hair, looking almost wistful.

  “I know, baby. Go take care of him.”

  Thanksgiving morning dawned bright and sunny.

  I woke up and crawled out of bed carefully, trying not to jostle Hunter too much.

  Walking over to the window, I peered out to find everything covered in a thick layer of ice. And I mean everything. Cars, evergreens, the power lines. Yikes. Those cables looked about ready to collapse. As far as I could see, ice caught the sunlight and reflected it like millions of tiny prisms. Almost like we’d gone to bed on earth and woken up in a fairy tale.

  Of course, there was one big downside to the whole frozen wonderland thing … No fucking way we’d be able to leave today, which meant Hunter and I would be stuck sharing our first holiday together with my entire Reaper family. On the bright side, only about half of them wanted him dead. Unfortunately, several of those who did would be cooking today, so I figured I should taste anything they offered him before letting him touch it.

  Maybe we should just do Christmas in Portland …

  I heard a noise from the bed. Hunter looked much, much worse today. His bruises had ripened and his face made me think of a smashed tomato. Make that a smashed tomato with eyes.

  “Come back to bed,” he muttered. “And bring the drugs with you. I feel like shit.”

  I walked back over and found the bottle, carefully spilling out a couple pills into my hand. Hunter managed to pull himself up long enough to swallow them, with the help of some water. Then he lowered his head painfully back into the pillow, clearly spent from even that small effort.

  I settled on the bed next to him.

  “I’ve been thinking things over,” I said quietly. “And I want you to know how much I appreciate the fact that you didn’t lie to me. I also realize you’re not going to tell me anything, and I know why. He did this to you because we’re sleeping together, although the kidnapping thing probably didn’t help, either. And I’m sure you just stood there and took it because of some kind of macho, bullshit pact you made with him.”

  Hunter closed his eyes.

  “I’m too tired for this, babe. You need to let it go. We’ll have a nice holiday dinner together and then tomorrow we’ll get the truck situation figured out. It’s all good.”

  I crawled under the covers, leaning up on my elbow to study his pulped face.

  “Promise me it’s over.”

  “What’s over?” he asked, his voice sleepy.

  “Your shit with my dad. Or do we have to go out and buy him a herd of goats, too?”

  “Naw,” he whispered. “Pic said kegs were just as good. He’s a practical man.”

  “You’re going to drive me crazy. This isn’t okay.”

  “I know. Love you, babe.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “Can we please go back to sleep now?”

  I snorted, then rolled onto my back.

  “Sure, why the hell not,” I said. “Not like we can have sex, which sucks for you. I’ve been studying that book. Did you know there’s a whole chapter on erotic massage? Apparently a man’s penile tissues actually extend way down into the scrotum, and if you press gently—”

  “Em?”

  “Yes?” I asked innocently.

  “You’re an evil, evil woman.”

  I smiled, savoring my small victory. Then I decided I might as well go back to sleep—I’d need my strength to make it through the afternoon. Knowing my luck, Uncle Duck would decide to tell Hunter the story about when I’d been six years old and sang “Jingle Bells, Batman Smells” in a surprise solo at the school holiday program.

  Uggh.

  We were definitely spending Christmas in Portland.

  Epilogue

  SIX WEEKS LATER

  PORTLAND, OREGON

  The coffee shop was supposed to close at four that afternoon, but of course I had a couple of customers lingering. That wasn’t usually a problem. I just flipped the “Closed” sign and cleaned up while they finished.

  Unfortunately, these two guys were camped out for the long haul. They’d each bought a small cup of tea two hours ago and had been arguing ever since about whether God was dead or simply never existed. Cookie didn’t like to kick people out, but she was also willing to draw the line in situations like this. I hated to ask them to leave, though. We couldn’t afford to lose customers.

  Unfortunately, the shop wasn’t doing that great and I was worried about her. I felt guilty over moving to Kelsey’s apartment, too, although realistically Cookie hadn’t been charging me enough to make much of a difference in her monthly budget. I still tried to babysit for her whenever I could, and I’d even gone over last week and cleaned the house.

  That single-parenting shit was exhausting just to watch. I couldn’t imagine actually being in her shoes.

  The door jingled as it opened.

  “I’m sorry, we’re close—” I started to say, then broke out in a smile when I saw it was Hunter. I supposed eventually I’d get to the point when I didn’t feel totally giddy every time I saw him, but we weren’t there yet.

  “You get off work early?” I asked. He’d started a regular job at a mechanic’s shop two weeks ago, although they seemed to be unusually flexible with his hours. I figured there was a story there. I also figured I’d probably never hear it. So far as I could tell, the shop was heavily financed by the Devil’s Jacks. At least he didn’t lie about it—Hunter had been painfully truthful with me ever since our fight over the pictures. This was a double-edged sword, something I discovered the first time I asked him whether an old sweater of Kit’s made me look fat.

  (Apparently it did.)

  “Burke’s in town,” he said shortly. Then he jerked his chin toward the two hipsters hoarding their tepid tea dregs in the corner. “Why are they still here? You closed half an hour ago.”

  I shrugged.

  “Chasing out customers feels wrong to me.”

  Hunter’s mouth tightened, and he walked across the room, grabbing a chair from their table and sitting down across from them. Their eyes widened as he leaned back in the seat. He reached down and pulled out the large Buck knife he kept strapped to his leg, starting to clean his oil-stained fingernails.

  “See that fuckin’ gorgeous babe over there?” he asked Hipster One, jerking his chin toward me. “That’s my woman. I’d love some time alone with her right now, but she’s stuck waiting for you little posers to leave, even though the shop closed thirty minutes ago and you’re probably not even going to leave a tip. Seems wrong to me, somehow. What do you think?”

  Hipster Two spoke hesitantly.

  “I think we were just leaving.”

  “Good to know,” Hunter replied politely. “Don’t forget the tip.”

  Hipster Two nodded, standing and digging in his pocket as Hipster One grabbed his gratuitously ironic leather briefcase, swallowing. They started toward the door, but Hunter cleared his throat pointedly.

  “Seems like a pretty small tip,” he said. “Those shoes you’re wearing cost close to two hundred bucks, so I think you can afford to do better. Or were they a present from Mommy and Daddy?”

  I frowned as they dug in their pockets again, then decided I should put a stop to this. God help poor Cookie if they got mad enough to start trolling us—they certainly had enough spare time.

  “You’re fine,” I said, opening the door for them. “I’m sure whatever you left is great, and I hope you’ll come back again when we’re open.”

  “Um, right,” Hipster One said as they scuttled out the door, leaving me alone with Hunter. I slid the bolt closed and lowered the shade, turning to face him.

  “Was that really necessary?”

  He stood and started stalking toward me.

  “Absolutely,” he muttered, eyes darkening. I knew that look.

&
nbsp; “Hunter, this is my work,” I protested. He reached out and caught my hair in one hand, twisting it in his fingers as he jerked me into his kiss. I tried to hold back, but his tongue attacked my lips and then he was inside. It was all over and we both knew it.

  God, I loved the taste of him.

  He kept kissing me as he backed me toward a table against the inner wall. I’d shut all the big window shades already, so we had total privacy, but this still felt very wrong. My ass bumped into the table, waking me to the reality of the situation.

  If I didn’t do something, Hunter was going to fuck me right here in the middle of Cookie’s shop.

  I needed to stop him.

  But then his hand found my breast, and he started kneading it roughly. Damn, but that felt good. Tingling arousal started swirling through my body. Hunter pulled away abruptly to frown at me.

  “What?”

  “Burke wants to meet you.”

  “Burke, your national president?” I asked, eyes widening. “Why?”

  “Hell if I know. He’s a cagey old bastard.”

  His hands slid down my side, catching my skirt and tugging it upward.

  “When are we meeting him?” I asked, trying to focus. It was almost impossible, because the skirt was bunching around my waist and he’d found the bare skin of my ass, exposed by my thong. Hunter’s hands tightened on me, and he tugged me forward into his hips. His cock was hard and ready to go, which made it almost impossible to breathe, let alone pay attention to his words.

  “He’s in town already, at the Panther, right down the street,” he murmured, massaging my ass. A finger slid toward my crease and worked its way under the thong. He’d been doing that more and more lately.

  “The strip club?” I asked, trying to focus.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We’re supposed to pick him up when we’re done here. Says he wants to show me something. You up for that?”

  I reached down between us to find his erection, squeezing it tightly. His breath hissed, fingers tightening.

  “I’m up for anything,” I whispered with a smile.