Reaper's Fire (Reapers Motorcycle Club #6)

by Joanna Wylde

  Pic burst out laughing. “Okay, that was unfair. It wasn’t his idea, actually. But he did meet a woman and wouldn’t mind some time here in town. That suits the club’s needs, so it works on our end. Do we have your support?”

  “Yeah,” Shade said slowly. “We can try it, although it’ll boil down to a vote by all the presidents. But I can see this working. Keep me posted on the details. So long as Gage is there keeping an eye on things, I think it’s okay. You serious about this woman?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Better question might be whether she’s serious about me. Right now she’s a little pissed off. Apparently women don’t like it when you lie to them about who you are, and then fuck another bitch under their nose for weeks at a time. I don’t know how hookers do it—thought I’d lose my fuckin’ mind, and that’s the truth.”

  Shade laughed.

  “No, I’d imagine not,” he said. “This is why I don’t have an old lady. Too much work.”

  “Fuck off,” Pic said. “You got no idea what you’re missing.”

  That was my cue to call him pussy-whipped or something, but for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel like giving one of my brothers shit for keeping a woman around. Instead I had a feeling he was right. There was something there—something good—and I’d been missing out.

  With any luck, I wouldn’t be missing out for much longer.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  TINKER

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” Carrie said over the phone.

  “I’m not,” I whispered, feeling sick to my stomach. “I can’t believe he played me like this. Nothing about him was real. Nothing! Why do I keep falling for guys who are liars and assholes?”

  “Okay, yes—he’s a liar and an asshole,” she said. “But don’t beat yourself up too much. Brandon is evil, and you spent a decade of your life with him. Cooper—”

  “His name is Gage.”

  “Whatever. Gage is just a sexy asshole who got you a little hot and bothered. This isn’t a federal crime, although I’d like to throw out my vote for eviction one more time. If he lied on his paperwork, that has to be a good enough reason to get rid of him.”

  “I can’t think about that right now,” I said. “God. He’s fixing the roof, Carrie. How am I going to get the roof fixed if I kick him out? And I’m supposed to take Dad to Seattle this week for his doctor’s appointment. My lawyer wants to talk, too. He thinks that maybe Brandon is pulling some kind of bullshit on the financials. Until now I haven’t pressed him for real, so we thought it was just stalling. But something may be really wrong there.”

  “Stop,” she ordered. “Just stop for a second and take a deep breath, all right?”

  Closing my eyes, I tried to do what she said, counting to ten while I inhaled. Slowly I let the air back out again, then repeated the process.

  “How’s that?” she asked.

  “Better,” I admitted. “I feel less like my heart is going to explode in my chest. I can’t believe he lied to me about having children.”

  “He told you a lot of lies,” she agreed. “And it sounds like he’s full of shit on every level. But I think you should consider one thing—and I am not saying this to defend him, all right?”

  “All right. What?”

  “He doesn’t know you lost a baby,” she said softly. “And while I absolutely think he’s an asshole who deserves to have his intestines pecked out by buzzards, he didn’t set out to hurt you when he lied about having a family.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m forgiving him,” I said, my tone dark. Carrie laughed, and it wasn’t a nice laugh. More of an evil-queen laugh, with a side of maniacal genius.

  “Oh no,” she said. “There’s no forgiving him. But he isn’t worth getting hung up on, either. How about this—I’m slammed with work during the day tomorrow, so why don’t you come over for dinner? We can laugh and talk and maybe throw darts at a picture of him.”

  “I don’t have a picture of him.”

  “No worries. I took one when he was working without his shirt the other day. Through the window.”

  “That’s creepy.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she admitted. “We’ve covered my stalkerishness before, so let’s keep moving here. We’ll throw darts at the picture and curse all men. It’ll be fun.”

  “We don’t need to curse Darren.”

  “Not unless he pisses me off between now and then,” she said brightly. “But if he does, all bets are off. So, dinner?”

  “How about you come here,” I said. “I don’t want to leave Dad alone. You can bring Darren and the girls.”

  “Twist my arm,” she replied. “You’re a way better cook than me. But the girls probably won’t come. They’re far too fabulous and adult to have dinner with us old people. I think they’ve got something planned with their friends. Just as well—they’d probably get creeped out watching us throw darts at a picture.”

  “You’re the best friend ever, you know that, right?”

  “Pretty much,” she said. “And I promise you—we’ll get through this. He caught you at a vulnerable time, but this guy is not a big deal. You’ll bounce right back.”

  “And you promise this?”

  “Money-back guarantee, baby. I got your back.”

  GAGE

  It was a tense ride out to the clubhouse.

  The Nighthawks knew we were in town—they had to know. You couldn’t bring that many bikes into a place as small as Hallies Falls without people noticing, and the arrests down in Ellensburg the day before just added to the gossip.

  A fresh wildfire had broken out that day, and while it was more than fifty miles away, even more smoke filled the air and tiny white ashes had started falling on everything. I’d never seen a summer like this for fires. If we’d been on a TV show, I’d have taken it for a sign that they were going to ambush and kill us all—it’d be a good show, too.

  Seeing as we weren’t on TV, I’d be just as happy without the ambush.

  Pulling up to the clubhouse, I spotted eight bikes. Not bad odds. Cord’s faction had four, and the others might be prospects or hangarounds friendly to his cause. Or not. What the hell did I know, anyway? Cody—one of the prospects, and not a particularly promising one—watched over them, his face paling as we pulled up, backing our bikes into line carefully.

  Picnic strode toward him, followed closely by Hunter, and I watched Cody swallow.

  “Prospect?” Pic asked, looking him over. “Gage, you know this one?”

  I joined them, studying the kid.

  “He’s one of Marsh’s,” I said. “Bought his first bike a few weeks ago.”

  Pic sighed, running a hand through his hair.

  “Kid, you have no fucking idea what you’ve gotten yourself into here,” he said, and his voice wasn’t unkind. “Here’s the best offer you’ll get tonight—hand over your colors, get on your bike, and leave. Your president and his friends are locked up and they’re gonna stay that way for a while. The club you signed up for isn’t going to exist anymore after tonight, and you aren’t ready to prospect anyway. Learn to ride your bike, grow up a little, and give it another shot in a few years. We won’t hold this against you.”

  Cody had never struck me as one of the brightest, although he seemed like a decent-enough kid. Now I could practically see the hamster running frantically on the wheel in his head, desperate for escape.

  Get on the bike, kid. Get out of here.

  “I’m not giving up my colors, sir,” he said, and while his voice trembled, he didn’t blink. “I’ve been told to stay out here and watch these bikes, and that’s what I’m gonna do. You’ll have to take them off me.”

  Jesus. Christ.

  “You’ve been watching Sons of Anarchy, haven’t you?” Pic asked, sighing heavily. Cody swallowed, then nodded. “Fucking show. Whole damned world thinks they’re Jax Teller. Pat him down and bring him inside.”

  In an instant, Horse and Ruger had him up against the wall, checking him f
or weapons. I watched as they pulled off one small pocket knife, and I do mean small. Little red Swiss Army, with the tweezer and toothpick.

  Pic and Hunter shot me incredulous looks, and I shrugged. Wasn’t like I hadn’t warned them.

  The club had fallen to shit.

  Pic nodded at me to lead the way into the clubhouse itself. Always fun being point, but it made sense, seeing as the men inside already knew me. I pushed the door open to find Cord and four others waiting for us. Cord took in my newly restored colors in one quick glance, and if he was surprised he kept it to himself. Pic and Hunter followed me in, as others surrounded the building.

  “Welcome,” Cord said, nodding toward Picnic. “I’m Cord. We’ve met before—rally a few years back. I’m more familiar with Rance, the Bellingham president. Been expecting a visit for a while now.”

  “Rance is busy,” Pic said shortly. “Asked me to come in his place. This is Hunter. He’s president of the Devil’s Jacks, out of Portland. I’m assuming you’ve guessed why we’re here?”

  “Marsh Jackson ran this club into the ground, didn’t pay his tax, and now you’re here to figure out what went wrong.”

  Cord had never struck me as stupid, and I guess my instincts hadn’t been entirely off.

  “I’m Gage,” I said, meeting his gaze head-on.

  “Nice colors,” he said, the faintest hint of a sneer in his voice. “Funny. Last time I saw you, you weren’t wearing them. Wasn’t aware the Reapers were afraid to wear their own colors in Washington State.”

  “Needed to find out what was happening here in town,” Pic said, his voice casual. “We heard the club was too easy to penetrate. Figured we’d investigate for ourselves, and damned if it wasn’t.”

  Cord’s mouth tightened, and a tense silence fell between us.

  “Let’s just admit that none of this went down the normal way,” Hunter broke in, nodding toward Cord. “Call it what it is—we know you reached out through Pipes. He talked to our men on the inside, and the Reapers responded. They wanted to see what was happening, they saw, and now we’re here talking to you because we know you’re solid men. Men who can be trusted. Let’s find a way to resolve this issue and move forward.”

  “And you’ve got a stake in this because . . . ?” Cord asked, sarcasm in his voice.

  “The old man is my father-in-law,” Hunter replied, nodding toward Pic. “He gets pissy, she gets pissy. Then I get no head. It’s a serious issue, bro. We gotta make this right.”

  “Pussy-whipped?” Cord asked, cocking a brow.

  Hunter shrugged. “Priorities. It is what it is. Can we sit and talk this through? Nobody here wants to fight today. The Nighthawks had a problem. The problem’s in jail now, which means it’s time to regroup.”

  Cord nodded slowly.

  “That’s the truth,” he admitted. “You guys want a drink?”

  “After,” Pic said. “We should talk first. Why don’t you start by introducing your brothers to all of us?”

  “This is Wanker, Charlie Boy, and Tamarack,” he said, nodding to the three men wearing full colors next to him. “Those two are Cody and Fuckwit. They’re Marsh’s prospects. Guess Cody missed the excitement because he had the stomach flu, and I gotta admit, Fuckwit’s growing on all of us. I think he might be all right.”

  “Your boy Cody seems to be taking things very seriously,” Pic told him. “When we pulled up outside, we told him to get out while he still could. Refused to hand over his colors.”

  Cord looked surprised, glancing at Cody sharply.

  “Huh.”

  Cody stood blank faced, although I saw a tremble in his hands. Damn, the kid really wanted this.

  “Okay, prospects outside,” Pic said. “You watch the bikes with some of our brothers to keep you company. Think things over—you leave tonight, it’s no harm, no foul, no judgment. The grown-ups are going to talk now. Where’s your chapel?”

  We let Cord lead the way to the meeting room, followed by me, Pic, Hunter, Ruger, Bam Bam, and one of Hunter’s brothers named Taz. Pic took the president’s chair without objection from Cord. Made sense—the Reapers were over the Nighthawks. Always had been, always would be. They owed us their respect regardless of the circumstances.

  “Here’s how I see it,” Pic started out. “There’s essentially been two clubs in this town, the old Nighthawks and the new Nighthawks. The old Nighthawks were our allies, and you’re their leader. Sound about right?”

  “That’s a fair assessment,” Cord said, his face like stone. “Most of my real brothers are in prison, serving hard time. You should know all about that—your boys might be with them right now if we hadn’t kept our mouths shut when the cops swept us up.”

  “Respect,” Pic said, nodding his head. “And those are your real brothers. Marsh and his boys pulled a hostile takeover while you were locked up, which put you in a hell of a spot. Sound about right?”

  “Exactly what happened,” Cord said, and for an instant his cool mask slipped, and I saw just how exhausted he must be. “I got paroled and found my club turned upside down. Fucked up shit.”

  “You could’ve come and talked to us.”

  “Wasn’t my place,” he said. “Marsh was the president, elected following the bylaws. You think we’re some bitch club that comes running to Daddy for help when things get tough? We’d have taken care of business, sooner or later.”

  “You never voted for him?” I asked. Cord shook his head.

  “Nope, I was still inside at the time. But I understand how it happened—he was the only strong one who hadn’t been picked up in the raid. The rest of us were out of the picture—some of those brothers won’t see freedom for another ten years. We couldn’t afford not to have a strong leader, and the Reapers approved it.”

  “That’s true,” Pic acknowledged. “Wish Rance was here—Bellingham is in charge of this area, not Coeur d’Alene. He knows the situation better than me. Say we all agree to share the fault. Next question is, how do we move on from here?”

  “You should know we’re not letting Marsh come back,” Cord said, sharing a determined look with his brothers. “We already voted on it—either he goes or we’re turning in our colors. This isn’t the club I joined, and while I love my brothers in prison, we can’t let Marsh destroy everything we’ve worked to build. If need be, I’ll start a new club. With or without your blessing.”

  The words hung heavy in the room, because we all knew what that meant.

  War. He had to know it wouldn’t end well for them.

  “You talk to your boys on the inside?” Hunter asked. “What do they think?”

  “If the Nighthawks fall, they’ll be open game,” Cord said. “That’s why we want to keep our alliances strong for their safety. Marsh is a time bomb, and I’m not sure the brothers I have left—the real brothers—are strong enough on our own. We’d like to find a solution that doesn’t end with all of us dead.”

  “What if we offered you a compromise?” Pic asked slowly. Cord studied him.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Marsh and his people are out of the game. They’re dead to us. They show their faces, cause trouble, you name it, you have our permission to make them go away. We’ll back you up. But we agree with you about the Nighthawks. The club has fallen apart, and we can’t allow that kind of weakness in our territory. Not only that, the name is tainted—you openly rebelled. There are other clubs that might follow if we let you get away with it. It’s over. We’re shutting you down.”

  Cord’s jaw tightened.

  “And our men inside?” he asked. “Our alliance with the Reapers is keeping them alive—you’ve got men inside, too. We stand strong together, our brothers are more likely to make it out alive.”

  Pic nodded, then leaned forward, his voice intense.

  “We’re prepared to patch you over into the Reapers.”

  Cord raised a brow, and Tamarack crossed his arms. The man was huge, like a bear, and when I caught his eye I half expected hi
m to growl at me.

  “Are you serious?” Cord asked slowly.

  “Any of this look like a game to you?” Picnic replied. “I talked to our national president already. He’s on board. It’ll need to be voted on by all the presidents, of course. Some may argue—we all know you’ve been cutting the Reapers out of our due on the cross-border trade.”

  “Not us,” Cord said. “That’s all Marsh. We’ve been cut out, too.”

  “We know,” I told him. “I’ve been watching. I realize you don’t like how this went down. Not right for a man to come to your town—your club—without his colors. But we needed to understand what was really happening, and now we do. We’re well aware that you weren’t part of the betrayal. That’s why we’re fighting for you and your brothers. None of us want to see Hallies Falls lose their club. This lets all the loyal brothers survive with your dignity intact. Not only that, it keeps our alliance strong, which means our boys inside stay safe. Let Marsh take the fall for this one, Cord. Patch over, and we’ll build a chapter in Hallies Falls that’s worthy of respect.”

  Cord glanced around the room. Faded leather vests hung on the walls, along with pictures of members long dead.

  “And the men who came before us?” he asked, nodding toward the club’s insignia. “The original Nighthawks? You expecting us to forget about them?”

  “No,” Pic said. “So far as we’re concerned, the men who betrayed your colors never existed. The rest of you have served with honor, and we never forget our fallen brothers. They’ll stay here with our respect when as you move forward as a new chapter. We’ll give you a few minutes to discuss it.”

  He started to stand and the rest of us followed, but Cord spoke, stopping him.

  “And if we say no?”

  “Then it’s over,” Pic said bluntly. “We take your colors and shut you down. We can’t allow a support club to betray us like this and survive.”

  Cord nodded slowly. “Not much of a choice, then, is it?”

  “Always a choice,” Pic said.

  “What about the men inside? You gonna let my brothers serving time—the same men who lied to cover your ass—get slaughtered?”