Reaper's Fire (Reapers Motorcycle Club #6)

by Joanna Wylde

  “Are you cheating on me with him?” Brandon asked, scowling. I blinked at him. Shit, maybe he really was high.

  “Yes, Brandon,” I replied. “I have mad, passionate sex with him every night. Him and all his motorcycle club friends. Until recently I was limiting myself to male strippers, but all that body oil gets messy after a while, don’t you think?”

  “We’re still legally married,” he said stiffly, and I burst out laughing.

  “Get out.”

  “Tinker—”

  “It’s time to leave now,” I said. “I’ll be here until the end of the week. Don’t feel like you need to change your schedule—it’s not like I want to see you. And think about those financial papers, because if you don’t start cooperating, I might just lose my shit and do something crazy. Now get out of my kitchen.”

  He opened his mouth to reply. I turned around, opening a drawer to pull out a chef’s knife. It wasn’t my favorite, but it’d do. Spinning back toward him, I raised it, as if studying the blade.

  “I’ve got a lot to do here, Brandon,” I said, testing the blade’s sharpness with my finger. “It’s been a long day and I’m feeling a little hormonal. Isn’t that what you always said about me? That I let my hormones do all the thinking? You wanna find out what they’re suggesting I do right now?”

  Silence fell between us, his eyes glued to the knife.

  “Are you threatening me?” he asked slowly. “Because that’s a very serious—”

  I slammed the knife down on the island, then offered him my sweetest smile.

  “I never make threats.”

  He stood and slowly backed away, eyes wide. “We aren’t finish—”

  “Good night, Brandon,” I said. “Sleep tight and lock your door, sweetheart.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Oh, you have no idea.” I laughed as he walked away, because even if he was right, I didn’t care. It’d been a big day, and I’d learned an important lesson.

  Talia wasn’t the only one who could use a knife.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GAGE

  Tinker texted me Darren’s phone number the next morning, along with instructions to contact him—not her—if something went wrong with the building. Whole fuckin’ situation pissed me off, but it was probably for the best . . . Until I finished things with Talia, there wasn’t much to discuss. I’d figure things with Tinker out later, because Picnic had been right about one thing—I couldn’t afford to lose focus on this run. If things fell to shit, I could find myself in prison or even dead.

  Strangely, the trip itself was anticlimactic.

  I mean, I knew it was supposed to be easy, but Marsh wasn’t exactly trustworthy. I reached Bellingham without drama, pulling off for a sandwich at a truck stop while a couple of the local Reapers went through the truck. Most of what they found matched the manifest—scrap metal and recyclables. Well, scrap metal, recyclables, and about four kilos of cocaine. If I’d had any illusions up to that point that Marsh was a criminal mastermind, him sending that much product with an unknown like myself was enough to kill them. So much for his promise that everything would be totally legal.

  That was strike one against him.

  The drugs were well hidden, I had to give him that. Throw in the fact that my cover was clean as a whistle, and I’d felt perfectly safe crossing the border. The shipment was just another nail in Marsh’s grave, though. If he wanted to move product through the Reapers’ territory, we expected him to pay the appropriate taxes. Clearly, that wasn’t happening.

  Strike two.

  I off-loaded the stuff in Vancouver, playing my part perfectly. Transportation only, no questions asked. Then I moved on to Penticton, picking up a load of fruit-processing machinery, of all things. I searched it myself before crossing the border back into the States, just in case they were setting me up. If Marsh’s people were smuggling something back down, damned if I was able to find it.

  Still, I’d managed to meet not one but two sets of his Canadian contacts. That was progress.

  Now all that remained was figuring out the Penticton fruit connection—we were still missing a major piece of the puzzle. Either that or Marsh really had gotten into the fruit-processing business, which made no damned sense no matter how you looked at it.

  By the time I pulled up to the apartment building on Thursday afternoon, I was tired and hungry and more than a little frustrated to discover that Tinker didn’t seem to be home from Seattle yet—the shades were shut on the house and there were no signs of her car. The fact that I’d been hoping to see her like some dumbass kid frustrated me even more, for obvious reasons. The situation with the Nighthawks was a powder keg and the situation with Talia was even worse.

  God only knew what fresh hell was ahead of us.

  SATURDAY AFTERNOON

  TINKER

  “Lot of smoke in the air,” Dad said, frowning from the passenger seat. I’d managed to finish my production on Thursday and did my deliveries on Friday. Between all of that, I’d somehow found time to meet with my lawyer and make a few phone calls about Dad. We’d be seeing a specialist in a few weeks—one of the best in Seattle. Good thing, too. Dad had been more confused than I’d ever seen him these past couple days. Randi had done a hell of a good job keeping him out of trouble, but it’d been stressful for all of us.

  “Wildfires,” I said. “It’s been a dry summer. Hopefully, the weather will turn and we’ll get some rain soon.”

  “I need a bathroom break,” Randi announced from the backseat, sitting up. I glanced in the mirror at her. My nineteen-year-old shop assistant’s hair was plastered against the side of her face, and her mascara had smudged across her cheek. She’d fallen asleep not long after we left Seattle. “Where are we?”

  “Just outside of Wenatchee,” I told her. “There’s some makeup wipes in my bag, in the side pocket. We’ll stop for gas in a few and you can clean up. You look like a raccoon.”

  Randi nodded sleepily, and I heard her rummaging through the tote I’d packed for the trip. She’d been a trouper this week—we’d been gone five nights, which was more than she’d signed up for. Between the time she’d spent helping out with Dad and her time working in the kitchen with me, she’d get a real nice check out of this one. I’d probably throw in a bonus, too—I’d have been screwed without her.

  “What’s with all the smoke?” she asked, her voice still fuzzy.

  “Wildfires,” Dad told her. He seemed to be tracking now that we’d left the city, something that wasn’t lost on me. Hopefully, he’d do better once he was back in his home environment.

  “Sheesh,” she murmured. “Hope they don’t burn too close to any towns.”

  Spotting a gas station up ahead, I flipped on my turn signal and pulled up to the pumps.

  “Hand me my wallet, will you?” I asked Randi. She passed it forward and I dug out my debit card. Dad stayed put in the car as she took off for the convenience store, following the pattern we’d established early on in the trip. I’d pump the gas, then park the car and bring Dad in with me. If things worked out, Randi would be done by then, and she’d help keep an eye on him while I took my own bathroom break. So far the system was working.

  How much longer will you let this go on? Brandon’s voice whispered in my head. The man’s practically a vegetable. He’d confronted me again last night, full of fresh arguments now that my lawyer was turning up the heat.

  I shook my head, rejecting the thought. Why the hell should I let Brandon’s bullshit infect me? He had no idea what Dad was capable of on his home turf. He’d snap right back once we reached the apartment building.

  Even if he didn’t, he wasn’t a fucking vegetable.

  No, my soon-to-be ex-husband would do better to suck it up and give my attorney the fucking financial information so we could divide up our assets, because this had dragged out long enough. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had something to hide. That was crazy, though. Brandon’s family had more money than God
—what did he need with our piddly shared savings accounts, anyway? I slammed the nozzle into the tank hard, feeling pissy. I leaned against the car as the gas started to flow, looking out across the hill. The sky was dim, even though it was only three in the afternoon.

  “That’s a hell of a lot of smoke,” Dad muttered when I climbed back into the SUV. “Just like last summer, when Omak burned. Ugly business.”

  “Hope it stays far away from us,” I replied. “Let’s go inside. You want anything to drink?”

  “I could use some water and a bathroom break. Can’t wait to get home. I love you, baby girl, and I’ll always support you, but that husband of yours makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Daddy, I think you forgot—I’m divorcing Brandon. As soon as possible, actually. With any luck, you’ll never have to see him again.”

  My father’s face transformed as a blinding smile took over. Then he was hugging me, squeezing me hard as I laughed, because life is weird.

  “Thank God,” he said. “Don’t like the way he talks to you. And don’t think I forgot what he did, either—I may be old and losing my mind, but a father never forgets the man who abandoned his grandchild to die alone.”

  Ouch.

  “I’d rather not talk about that,” I reminded him, even though part of me rejoiced, because I wasn’t the only one who remembered her. He’d loved her, too, from the first minute I’d told him I was pregnant. Whatever was going on in his head, it wasn’t stealing away his love for his family, and I needed that. He was all I had left. “But don’t worry—it’s definitely over between me and Brandon. And you’re right about the way he talks to me, too. I’ll never fall for his shit again, I promise.”

  • • •

  We found Randi inside the convenience store, staring up at a TV mounted in the corner behind the counter. Aerial shots of massive trees engulfed in flame filled the screen. There weren’t a lot of people inside, just one other customer and the clerk, but all eyes were glued to the news.

  “As you can see, the fires are growing rapidly,” a reporter said, her voice incongruously perky. “Although at this point, officials tell us that it hasn’t spread outside the national forest and no buildings are threatened. Even so, they’re urging residents and those traveling through the region to be careful. Air quality is extremely low in some areas due to smoke, which poses a serious risk to anyone with asthma or other pulmonary conditions. Additionally, the Washington State Department of Transportation is reporting multiple road closures due to poor visibility.”

  The screen changed, flashing to a map showing several roads highlighted.

  “As you can see, I-90 is closed from Vantage to Ritzville. We’re also getting word that while Highway 97 near Chelan remains open, visibility is growing worse and officials are considering a closure there in the near future.”

  “Isn’t that where we’re going?” Randi asked, eyes wide. I nodded, frowning.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’d better get going—I don’t want to get stuck driving all the way around. Creepy, isn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  • • •

  Despite the reporter’s warnings, we made it back to Hallies Falls just fine.

  I dropped Randi off at her mom’s house, and then Dad and I headed for the apartment building. As we pulled up, I saw Cooper’s semi was parked out back again—guess he’d finished his job.

  Whatever.

  I parked on the street in front of the house instead of the parking lot, so it’d be easier to unload the car. Even though I was dead tired, I couldn’t help but notice how spectacular the sunset was—guess all that smoke was good for something. Raising my phone, I snapped a picture of the brilliant pinks and reds filling the sky across the valley. That’s when I heard the sound of footsteps behind me.

  “Fires suck, but the smoke sure as hell paints a pretty picture, doesn’t it?” Cooper said, his voice low and rough. It sent a thrill racing through me, one that I pushed down ruthlessly, because nothing had changed. He was still attached to his crazy bitch of a girlfriend.

  “It’s beautiful,” I admitted, refusing to look at him. He stepped closer, and I felt the warmth of his body behind me. Lean back into him. You know you want to. I moved forward instead, putting distance between us before turning to look at him.

  Mistake.

  I’d sort of convinced myself that I’d imagined how sexy he was. I mean, theoretically Brandon was sexy, too, but I had no trouble controlling myself around him. (I’d gotten over the whole smooth, metrosexual thing right around the time he was too busy to show up at the hospital when I needed him most.)

  Cooper was the total opposite.

  He hadn’t shaved since I’d last seen him, and his five-o’clock shadow was moving past stubble into beard territory. Combine that with the dark, slightly curly hair pulled back into a short ponytail, the broad shoulders barely contained by his faded T-shirt, and his black leather boots? Yum. The man was delicious.

  Too delicious.

  “Heard they closed a few roads because of smoke,” he said, eyes studying my face intently. “You have any trouble getting back?”

  “No, it was okay,” I said, wishing he’d leave me alone. “But I’m tired. Been a long week.”

  “She won’t fuck with you again,” he said bluntly. “I’m really sorry about what happened—it wasn’t okay, and I made that clear. She won’t be around here, and if she gives you any more trouble let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

  Something hardened in his face as he said it, something scary. I shivered, rubbing up and down my arms. Cooper frowned.

  “You should go inside,” he said.

  “I need to finish unloading the car.”

  “Let me help.”

  Behind him, I saw Sadie step out of her apartment. Our gazes met, and then she reached for her cell. Fuck’s sake, like I needed more drama.

  “No,” I said firmly. “I think it’s best to keep our distance, all things considered.”

  “I work for you. That’ll get complicated if we can’t even talk to each other.”

  He was right. He was also standing way too close to me, especially with Sadie watching every move. End it. You’re a grown-up, so say it like it needs to be said.

  “What happened in your apartment . . . that wasn’t okay,” I said, catching and holding his gaze. He stared back, and for a minute I thought he might deny it. “Neither was what happened with your girlfriend afterward. I have enough drama in my life—I don’t need any more.”

  “I know,” he acknowledged, eyes darkening. My breath caught, and I felt a tendril of heat start to wind up from my stomach. “But it’s more complicated than you think.”

  “You still seeing Talia?” I asked. Cooper looked away, rubbing at his chin as he frowned.

  “Doesn’t sound complicated at all,” I said, my voice growing hard. “And you might do maintenance around here, but that doesn’t include unloading my car for me. It also doesn’t include socializing. If there’s an issue with the building I can text you. If we need to take care of something in person, my dad can come with us. I lost a week’s worth of work because I ate dinner with a man who’s a dead end. My life is stressful enough already.”

  Cooper’s eyes flared, and he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. Tell me you broke up with her. Instead, he shut it again, scowling as he looked away.

  “You’re right. I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Thank you,” I said, wondering why it hurt so much. Wasn’t like I even really knew the guy. Probably never would, and that was for the best. He hung out with the wrong people. Our lives were totally different. There wouldn’t be anything between us even if he were free.

  You thought you and Brandon were the same kind of people, my heart whispered. How’d that work out for you?

  Not well.

  Turning away from him, I looked across the valley at the sunset again, wishing I’d never met him. He stood behind me for long moments, then I heard the crunch of
his footsteps as he walked away.

  • • •

  The next week was tense.

  I decided not to reopen Mom’s store, because there wasn’t any point in it. I never sold anything there anyway and I didn’t like the idea of someone like Talia being able to walk in on me. This might’ve been bad news for my shop assistant, Randi, but she’d done such a great job with my dad while we were in Seattle that I asked if she’d be his caregiver while we tried to figure things out.

  “I’d love it,” she’d answered, seeming genuinely enthusiastic about the idea. I must’ve looked surprised, because she’d smiled at me shyly and then said, “I like hanging out with Mr. Garrett. I never met my grandpa and Dad took off when I was still a kid. He treats me like his granddaughter, you know? It feels good.”

  The words had cut me like a knife to the heart, but I understood. Dad had always wanted to be a grandpa. I’d never forget when I called to tell him and Mom I was pregnant—they were ecstatic. Losing little Tricia devastated all of us, and if having Randi around made him feel good, I couldn’t have a problem with that.

  As for Cooper, he kept his distance.

  It’s what I’d wanted, and I appreciated it . . . that didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about him at night, or that I didn’t watch him while he worked. His eyes burned whenever he saw me, but Talia still came around his apartment regularly. Other times I’d see him on his bike in town with the Nighthawks. They were loud, rude, and expected everyone to stay the hell out of their way.

  When I was a kid, I remembered them as being intimidating, but not truly terrifying. They’d had the respect of the community. When I’d come back after my mom had died, I’d noticed that dynamic had changed, but hadn’t paid much attention. Now I was really looking, and what I saw was a town full of people who were afraid.

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  MARGARITA: Im coming home this weekend to see the old people. Moms birthday. We need to go out Friday night or I’ll lose my mind.

  CARRIE: Works for me!!! You know how much I hate going out ;) Tinker you on board?