Reaper's Fire (Reapers Motorcycle Club #6)

by Joanna Wylde

  ME: hell yes. It’s been too long! I can tell you all the latest shit with brandon

  CARRIE: OMG he’s such a cocktwat! You won’t believe what he did Margee!

  MARGARITA: What?!?

  ME: Ugh. Not only is he ducking around on the financial stuff he’s being super weird. I think he’s obsessed with my new handyman.

  MARGARITA: Huh?

  CARRIE: Tinker has a hot new guy to take care of the building and Brandon’s all jealous. He thinks they’re sleeping together

  MARGARITA: Oooo . . . And are you?

  ME: NO

  CARRIE: NO NO NO. Hes hot but he’s got a batshit crazy girlfriend. We can talk this weekend. So glad ur coming home!!!!!

  MARGARITA: See you soon! Xx

  “This is my song!” Carrie shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me onto the dance floor. Margarita was right behind us. Jack’s Roadhouse wasn’t exactly a happening nightclub or anything, but it was the closest we had to nightlife in Hallies Falls. The beer was cheap, the music was loud, and nobody checked ID too closely. Not that I wouldn’t mind being mistaken for underage. On the weekends they pushed the tables to the side, creating a dance floor. Usually there was a DJ, but tonight they’d actually brought in a live band.

  “Oh my God, is that Joel Riley?” Carrie shouted in my ear during the first set, clutching my shoulders for support. I swayed, blinking at the small stage. There were three guys, a drummer and two guitarists, and sure enough one of them was Joel Riley.

  “Wow,” I said. “He looks even better than he did in high school.”

  This was truth.

  Joel had been a year ahead of us, and I’d spent two full years deeply in love with him. So had Margarita, although her infatuation had faded after he’d invited her to prom our junior year. Specifically, things had fallen apart at the after party, where he’d chugged a bottle of tequila then barfed on the side of his car.

  Still, the man looked good now. Damned good.

  “Joel!” Margarita shrieked, jumping up and down and waving wildly. His head turned to us, a broad smile crossing his face. Carrie screeched and jumped up next to her, crashing into me and knocking me over. Big hands caught my waist, pulling me to my feet as the people around us pushed us together.

  Cooper.

  He stared down at me, eyes dark and hungry. My body recognized him, responding instantly, my common sense safely anesthetized by the vodka I’d been drinking all night. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his body as my legs clenched. I wondered what it’d feel like, that hard body pushing deep inside. Then he leaned forward, speaking directly into my ear, his voice rough and sexy. I didn’t even register what he said. I was too busy imagining him catching my earlobe between his teeth and sucking on it for a while.

  His hold on me tightened. Someone bumped into us, and then he was pulling me off the dance floor in the darkness next to the stage, right behind one of the big speakers.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. I nodded, staring at his mouth. For such a big, scary guy he had gorgeous lips. They looked soft, but they’d been hard and strong when he’d kissed me. Hard and strong and demanding, just like I imagined they’d be if he fucked me up against the wall right next to the stage. I leaned forward without thinking, mesmerized. Cooper’s hand slid up my spine and then—

  “Tinker Garrett?” I looked up to find Joel standing next to us, grinning like a crazy man. Apparently the band had stopped playing somewhere along the line but I hadn’t even noticed. I’d been too busy . . . Holy crap, you nearly kissed Cooper!

  Jerking away from him, I turned to Joel, thankful that he couldn’t see me flushing in the dim light. Thank God he’d interrupted us before I’d done something really, really stupid.

  “Hey, I haven’t seen you in years,” I said brightly. “Love the music.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, grinning. “I heard you were back in town. Who’s your friend?”

  “Cooper Romero,” I said. “Cooper, this is Joel Riley. We went to high school together.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Cooper growled, dropping a heavy arm over my shoulders. Joel raised his brows and grinned before holding his hands up in surrender.

  “Peace, bro,” he said. “I’m not trying to steal your girl. Just hadn’t seen her since high school.”

  “I’m not his girl,” I said forcefully, shoving Cooper’s hand off my shoulder. Joel raised a brow.

  “Cooper, what are you doing?” Talia demanded, pushing between us. She slid her hand through his arm possessively, and I wondered how something as simple as a night out dancing could get so complicated so fast.

  “Nothing,” Cooper replied shortly, eyes snapping between me and Joel, who took a step closer.

  “You wanna grab a beer, Tinker?” he asked me, ignoring the big, pissy biker standing next to us. Cooper’s jaw tightened. I turned my back on him and Talia, offering Joel my best smile.

  “Sure. I’d love to catch up with you.”

  “Marsh wants to talk,” Talia said to Cooper. Catching Joel’s arm, I tugged him toward the bar, leaving Cooper and Talia behind us, because whatever drama might be in Cooper’s future, I wanted nothing to do with it.

  “Interesting dynamic,” Joel said as we found a couple of stools at the far end of the bar. I rolled my eyes.

  “You could say that.”

  “So, is that Cooper guy a factor or not?”

  “Definitely not,” I told him. “Not even a little bit.”

  He cocked his head at me, raising a brow. I shrugged and smiled.

  “Okay, it’s complicated. But he’s also trouble and I’ve got no time or patience for that. We’re not in high school anymore and I’m well and truly over relationship drama. What about you? What’s going on in your life?”

  “Well, I got divorced about three years ago,” he said. “Kaci and I got married a couple years after high school and things were good for a long time. Then they weren’t. I’ve got no regrets, though. We had two great kids together—and I wouldn’t trade them for anything—but by the time it was over, we both just wanted to move on. She lives in Wenatchee now, and we share custody of the kids. How about you?”

  This was always the awkward question.

  “I’m mid-divorce, no children,” I told him. “I’m living at home with my dad right now. Mom passed earlier this year. Wow, on paper that sort of makes me sound like a loser.”

  Joel smiled, and I swear—the man really was rather beautiful. Tousled brown hair with a hint of light from the sun, blue eyes. He had a nice build, too. Not as big as Cooper, but he gave off very good vibes.

  “You don’t look like a loser,” he said, taking in my low-cut top and tight pencil skirt. I crossed my legs self-consciously, then felt even more self-conscious because it felt like an obvious ploy to draw attention to them.

  But what the hell? I had great legs.

  “So what do you do?”

  “High school band teacher,” he said, grinning at me. “Gigs like this help me keep my sanity on the weekends. You?”

  “Gourmet chocolates,” I said. “I started out as a private chef, but then I started making caramels and things just sort of took off. Now I have clients all over the region.”

  “And you do all that from Hallies Falls?”

  “Yup,” I said, reaching for the drink the bartender had set in front of me. Joel frowned.

  “Did you order that?” I paused, confused. “No . . . I didn’t.”

  “And I didn’t order mine,” he said, eyes narrowing at the beer in front of him. Looking up, I saw Margarita and Carrie across the bar, waving at us maniacally. I sighed.

  “I think I should warn you right now—the three of us don’t get out very much, and both of them are married. They like to live through me vicariously, which means they’re trying to get me drunk and laid tonight. Please ignore them.”

  Joel’s eyes widened, and he burst out laughing.

  “Jesus, you don’t fuck around, do you?”

  I
took a delicate sip of my drink and shrugged.

  “We’re in our late thirties, Joel. This isn’t high school and there’s something to be said for direct communication. But you should know that just because they want me to have sex doesn’t mean that’s my goal for the night. I’m planning on having a few drinks, dancing for a while, and then going to bed by myself at the end of the night.”

  Joel laughed again. “Well, I’m always up for getting laid, but seeing as I’ll be spending most of the night playing, maybe we could have a few more drinks between sets and catch up.”

  “I’d like that.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  GAGE

  Talia threw her leg over my lap, grinding against me in time to the music. The band wasn’t half bad, but that piece of shit Riley hadn’t taken his eyes off Tinker all night. I wanted to drag his ass out behind the bar, rip off his dick, and shove it down his throat.

  Instead, I got to sit at a table with Marsh while his sister crawled all over me like a perverted monkey. This wouldn’t be great under the best of circumstances, but to make things even more fun, Marsh was tweaking again, and paranoid as fuck. He wasn’t a full-on meth head, or at least I hadn’t thought so when I first arrived. Now I wasn’t so sure—not exactly the most comforting of dynamics. Two nights ago he’d lost his shit, and beat the hell out of some kid who’d tripped and spilled his beer at the clubhouse. Nearly killed him.

  Tinker was dancing right up to the stage, eye-fucking the guitar player while her girls cheered her on. Christ. He had douche written all over him. She’d be lucky if he offered to bang her in his car, instead of just doing her against a wall out back.

  Keep your head in the game.

  Grabbing my beer, I chugged it down, then leaned over toward Marsh.

  “You got any more work?” I asked. He stared at me, eyelid twitching, and I wondered what the hell was going on in that crazy head of his.

  “Why?” he asked. “You made plenty of cash on that last run.”

  Because I need to finish this fucking farce.

  “Not enough,” I said shortly. “I’m getting to the point where I’m going to have to start taking jobs again. Whatever you decide is fine, but I’ve been spendin’ a lot of time with the club. Figured I’d talk to you before putting out any more feelers.”

  He considered the question, then nodded slowly.

  “I might have more work for you,” he said. “But that means taking things to the next level. You ever consider joinin’ a club?”

  Why, yes. Yes, I have. Been a Reaper for eighteen years, thanks for asking.

  “Not really,” I said. Talia leaned over and started sucking on my neck. Hard. Bitch wanted to mark her territory. I’d fucked up back there, talking to Tinker. But Jesus, she’d fallen right next to me. I couldn’t just let her get trampled, and once I had my hands on her it wasn’t like I was gonna let her go.

  “Consider it,” he said bluntly. “We’re heading down to Ellensburg tomorrow. Big classic car show. You remember a guy named Hands? Disappeared right around the time you started comin’ around.”

  “Huh,” I said, tugging at Talia’s hair. She felt like a leech attached to my neck.

  “I got word from a friend—turns out Hands was an informant for the feds,” Marsh said, leaning in close.

  “No shit?” I asked, wondering where he’d gotten the information. Hands had been an informant, all right. Now he was a dead informant. Not that I’d killed him personally. Nope, all I’d done was help my brother Painter kidnap him, beat the shit out of him for good measure and then hand him off to the Bellingham Reapers like the garbage he was. Wasn’t exactly sure what they’d done with him after that, but my best guess was they’d dumped the body offshore.

  Fucking shame, all things considered. I’d had to spend three extra nights in that rat trap of a hotel because of him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “And I got word that Hands is gonna be at the car show. You wanna be part of this club, now’s the time to show your loyalty. You helped us deal with this situation and I see lots of opportunity for you down the road. You with me?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but Talia’s hand snaked down between us, cupping my cock through my fly. I pushed her off me, annoyed.

  “What the fuck, Coop?” she asked. Marsh burst out laughing.

  “Been too long since you had a real man, sis. You forget that not all of us sign over our balls at the door. Stop your bitchin’ and go grab us some more beers.”

  She sneered at him, but she didn’t argue. I watched as she walked away, feeling almost sorry for her. Growing up with this jackass couldn’t have been easy.

  “We’ll also be bringing some product down tomorrow,” Marsh said. “I’ve got some associates in the Tri-Cities. You met them before. They’ve got some other goods to swap with ours. We’ll pick them up, deal with Hands, and then enjoy the rest of the day. Some of those street rods aren’t half bad, even if they aren’t bikes. Always plenty of beer and bitches, too. You’ll like it.”

  Tri-Cities. Interesting.

  “These the guys in the fruit business?” I asked. Marsh’s eyes narrowed in sudden paranoia. God, I needed to be more careful. This man’s temper turned on a dime.

  “Any particular reason you’re asking questions about my business? You workin’ for someone else, Coop? Hands was a fuckin’ traitor, and this time tomorrow he’ll be dead. I can do the same to you. Make you disappear off the face of the fuckin’ earth. Never forget that.”

  Paranoid much?

  “Just curious,” I replied mildly. “No big deal, boss.”

  “Well, watch your fuckin’ mouth,” he said, hand twitching nervously on the table. He really needed to stop using his own product. Fuckin’ death spiral. “Hey, that’s Tinker Garrett over there, isn’t it?”

  I glanced toward the dance floor, pretending I hadn’t been watching her from the moment she’d come in. “Sure looks like her.”

  “You hit that yet?”

  Shooting a glance at him, I tried to decide if it was a trick question. “No, I like ’em younger.”

  “Like my sister.”

  “Like your sister,” I agreed, a bad feeling growing in my gut. Marsh’s hand jerked, and for an instant I wondered if he was going for a gun. Then he slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to slosh the drinks, laughter bursting out.

  “Gotcha, Coop,” he said gleefully. “Christ, that was easy. Talia’s big enough to make her own choices. She fucks who she wants and that’s got nothin’ to do with business. But I find out you’ve been lying to me about anything? Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ skin you myself.”

  Jesus. This guy was a goddamned lunatic.

  “Here’s your beer,” Talia said sweetly, handing each of us a bottle before settling down into my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and cuddled into me like a kitten.

  “We’re goin’ down to the car show in Ellensburg tomorrow,” Marsh told her, eyes on the dance floor.

  “Sounds like fun,” she said. “I’ll ride with Coop.”

  Marsh shot me a glance, then shook his head.

  “Nope, you follow in the truck with the other girls,” he said. “Behind the pack.”

  She gave a pretty pout as my mind raced. He’d been talking about Hands like he was a traitor, but he’d also threatened me. Throw in the fact that I knew damned well Hands was dead, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of trap. Had he figured out who I was? Hell, even if he hadn’t, crazy fucker got more paranoid every day. This game was getting dangerous.

  “Babe, I gotta step outside,” I said, pushing Talia off my lap gently as I held up my phone. “It’s my mom. She wants me to call back. Probably nothing, but you know how it is.”

  Nodding at Marsh, I made for the door. The band was on another break between sets, and looking around I saw Carrie and her other friend, but no Tinker.

  No sign of the guitar player, either.

  Stepping out into the parking lot, I headed away
from the building, stabbing the phone with my finger. Picnic answered on the second ring.

  “Just a heads-up—Marsh Jackson figured out that our old friend, Hands, was an informant, but he’s got no clue he’s already dead and gone. Jackson’s strung out and unreliable. I can’t decide if he had real intel on the situation, or if it was just a lucky guess. Now he tells me we’re headin’ down to Ellensburg tomorrow. Wants to deliver some goods and hunt down Hands. Thinks he’s gonna be there.”

  Picnic didn’t answer for a minute, then said, “You think he’s onto you? Because I got no clue why he’d think Hands would be there. Man’s gone. Like he never existed.”

  I considered the question carefully.

  “Fuck if I know, but I don’t think he’s pegged me yet,” I finally replied. “But the fucker’s paranoid as hell, more than when I first got to town. Every time I see him, he’s using more. For all I know he’s hallucinating giant pink bunnies hungry for blood.”

  Picnic snorted.

  “Christ, I can’t believe such a good club could fall so far,” he said. “You need anything from us?”

  “No, but keep your phone handy. Is Painter still getting out of jail tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “The old ladies are planning a big party for him. He’s head over heels for Melanie, London’s girl. She’s been in to visit him almost every day. I got a feeling we won’t be seeing much of him.”

  “Never saw that one coming,” I said, biting back a laugh. “You think it’s the real thing this time?”

  “Fuck if I know,” Picnic said. “But he better watch himself. London’s one hell of a mama bear, and I got the feeling she won’t be nice if he hurts her little cub. We’ll have church first thing in the morning, though. I’ll update everyone, make sure they stay sober enough for action until we get the all clear.”

  “Appreciate that,” I said. “Okay, gotta head back in.”

  “Hey, Gage?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t think we don’t see what you’re doing for the club,” my president said, his voice dead serious for once. “We won’t forget this.”

  “Just don’t forget to stay sober, because I might need you soon,” I told him bluntly. “And make sure you’re ready to ride. I got a real bad feeling about this one. I know we need more intel and I’ll hold out as long as I can, but something’s changed. Marsh is on the edge. Nothing would surprise me at this point.”