by Sophia Gray
Joe’s jaw tightened, and his hands clenched, but he remained silent. Lucas heard Cutter pull in another drag of his cigarette, but other than that sound, everything was still.
“Oh.” Clay held up a hand and looked at Lucas. “Before I forget, and just to help you with your decision, your girl—the one with the belly full of your bastard.” Every fiber in Lucas’s body tensed, but he showed no reaction to the son of a bitch. “Turns out she was a bit of a bastard herself, but lucky for her, I found her daddy.”
The breath in Lucas’s lungs refused to move.
“What are you playing at?” Joe responded when Lucas continued to look at Clay without speaking.
“Easy enough. Make the right call, and the girl just has a little family reunion. Fuck this up again, and the girl finds out why her daddy is called the Reaper.”
“You think her father will hurt her?” Joe laughed, but it was forced. Lucas knew him well enough to know when he was pushing a reaction to confuse the opposition. They’d all heard the stories about Reaper. He was true to his job title. He enforced any ruling his club handed down. Someone was expelled from the club but hadn’t done the proper cover up of tats or removed patches, Reaper was sent in to do the work. More than one tossed-out member showed up in the ER with burns covering their back where a tattooed patch had been or large chunks of skin removed where other tats were.
No one met up with him when he had a job to do and got away until it was done. If they were lucky, they were left breathing. If they weren’t, they were left in pieces all over the county. Reaper was not a fucker to mess with. But would he actually hurt his own daughter, his own blood?
“You forget, little boy, I’ve been around a lot longer than you. I didn’t run with your crew or Reaper, but I knew him. When he lost that girl, when his old lady kicked him out and told him never to come back, it broke him. If you think putting them together and then ordering him to hurt her is going to work, you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I gave you credit for.”
“Reaper is loyal to the club first. He’ll do what he’s told, daughter or not. And you forget, old man, that she’s carrying the bastard child of your club, not ours and not one he approves of. So, if you think he’s gonna let that fly, you’re just as senile as I thought.”
Cutter tossed his cigarette to the ground and used the heel of his boot to grind it into the asphalt. “What’s your timeline?”
“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.” Clay kept his eyes on Lucas. “And just so you don’t worry too much about your girl, she has company.”
Cutter took a step closer, and Lucas put his arm out to keep him back. They knew who he meant and what that meant, too. Even if Reaper went against the club and kept Josephine safe, he might not be that kind to Cherry.
“Besides, Reaper hasn’t had his cock in her mouth since she took the walk for shame from our club to yours.” The guys behind Clay let out a few snickers.
It took both Joe and Lucas to keep Cutter back. “What the fuck are you talking about? You hurt one fucking hair on either of their heads and I’ll mount yours on the fucking wall of my shitter!”
“Keep your pants on.” Clay laughed. “She never told you, huh? Yeah, she was over at our place a good six weeks or so before she high tailed it out. My cock was just too damn big for that tight little ass of hers,” he sneered. Lucas could feel the muscles in Cutter’s body jerk at what he was hearing. “She needed something a little...smaller. Ended up at your club.”
The little assholes behind him out and out laughed, making Lucas take a step in their direction. At least the wet bastards had the sense to step back.
“Tomorrow night. Make the right call, and everything’s good. The girls come home, and business continues. I’ll even give you an extra point, three percent off the top.” Clay signaled to his guys to get back on their bikes, and once they were all on and their engines were roaring, he did the same.
Once they rode off, Cutter kicked the gravel and yelled into the air.
“Well, fuck.” Joe shook his head.
Lucas tried the phone again, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere but needing to do something, anything. Just standing there and letting the mess of the situation fall on top of him wouldn’t get anything done.
“What about her mom?” Cutter turned on Lucas, his eyes wide with anger. “She might know where this son of a bitch is, where he lives. He might have taken the girls there.”
“From what Josephine said, she hasn’t seen or heard from him since she sent him packing.” Lucas shoved his phone in his pocket. “I’ll head over there, though. Maybe she didn’t tell Josephine something.”
“What the fuck about Croc and Zack?” Cutter jumped on his bike. “If Clay did get those girls out of your house, they are either hurt, dead, or run off.” Before Lucas could say anything, Cutter rode out of the lot.
“You go check with the mom. I’ll get back to the clubhouse.”
“Joe. What are we going to do? If we take his deal—”
“We are not taking his fucking deal. If we do, it will only lead to more bullshit, more of him thinking he can come into our club and make rules and tell us what we run. Fuck that. No drugs in this town are coming in, because we let it happen.” The big picture, that’s what the president had to look at, not one snap shot but the whole thing.
“I’ll talk with her mom.”
“Call me as soon as you do.” Joe walked over to his trike and loaded himself up. “I’ll tell you one thing, I’m too old for this bullshit.” He revved his engine and took off, leaving Lucas standing in the middle of the lot, clenching his fists with nothing to throw them into.
# # #
Josephine heard the television playing in the living room, a few feet from the door of the bedroom she’d been locked in. She hadn’t slept, not really. Everything played over and over in her mind. Her father was with her, or she was with him. Either way, they were together but not really. He was out in the living room watching the morning fucking news broadcast while she was locked in a bedroom with a single bed and an empty dresser.
She couldn’t hear Cherry anymore. She’d spent a good chunk of the night banging on her door from the room next to hers. When she finally gave up on that, she’d cried, horrible sobs that tore at Josephine. Cherry was too young to know so many horrors. Being used so cruelly by the Iron Rebels, only to put herself in the same situation at the Fury Riders’ club, spoke to her insecurity. According to Lucas, she’d never been disrespected, and he’d always been upfront with her. He said the members did take what she offered, but no one treated her like a street-walking whore. Josephine doubted that had been the situation at the Iron Rebels.
On the way to the house they were both being kept prisoner in, she’d ignored her father, for the most part. He tried to ask her questions: How far along was she? Was it really Lucas’s baby? How’d she get involved with him? It wasn’t until he asked about her mom that she answered him.
“You made your choice when you walked out on us. Your club, that’s your family, right? Fuck us, wasn’t that the way of it?” She’d seen the hurt flash through his eyes, but it only lasted a second, if that long. His hands had gripped the wheel tighter, and he didn’t ask another question.
When they arrived at the house, a small ranch house on a large plot surrounded by a few acres of woods, Josephine tried to get a look at where’d they’d driven, to remember street names and highway markers, but it was dark, so dark. By the time they pulled off the highway, she couldn’t make out anything outside the truck. And when he’d opened her door to get out, she could only see the soft yellow light illuminating from the porch.
It didn’t matter, though. As soon as Josephine could get in the same room with Cherry, they’d figure out what to do, how to get free and run. They’d run until their legs couldn’t carry them. The woods couldn’t go on forever. Eventually, they’d find the end and come to a house or a road, somewhere they could find safety. A phone would help, too, a phone to call Lucas
or Cutter or anyone.
She sat up in the bed, crossing her legs in front of her. She was hungry. Her stomach growled, but she wasn’t going to ask that asshole for food.
A cell phone rang, and she heard it get answered. Jumping from the bed, she went to the door and pressed her ear against the old wood. It was garbled, but she could make out Reaper talking. He sounded pissed. A lot of “yeah”s and “fine”s were uttered but nothing of real significance, nothing to give her a fucking clue as to who he was talking to and what they were talking about.
Boots crossing the room and coming closer toward her door had her scurrying to the bed. The lock was turned on the outside, and a soft knock came just as she made it back on the mattress and pressed herself against the headboard.
Another knock. “Josephine? You up?” His voice. She remembered that voice. She remembered hearing him call her from the porch when she was playing with friends outside. Time to come home, Josephine, he’d call after her, dinner’s ready. She’d waited so many years to hear that voice again. Nights were spent crying herself to sleep, praying to hear that voice come through her bedroom door telling her it was lights out. And now, here it was.
“Josephine?” The door opened just a bit, enough to let some light into the other ways darkened room. When he caught sight of her sitting up, the door swung open all the way. He walked in carrying a bowl with a spoon sticking out of it.
She watched him walk across the room, leaving the door open behind him. He’d changed his clothes, leaving his kutte off. He wore only a t-shirt and jeans. He looked normal.
“Cereal,” he said and put the bowl on the nightstand. “You need to eat something.” His gruff voice didn’t match his expression. Concern lingered in his eyes, and his forehead was wrinkled.
She didn’t look at the bowl; she just slid down onto her back and rolled over, away from him.
The bed dipped when he sat. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to figure something out.” He placed a hand on her arm, and she jerked but didn’t scoot away. Her father was trying to comfort her. Tears ran out her eyes and down her nose, dripping onto the blanket.
“Either let me and Cherry go or just leave me alone.” She managed to say, before scooting away from his touch.
He sighed, not an exasperated sigh but one filled with remorse and sadness. “I can’t let you two go, but I will figure a way for us all to get out of this.”
“Us? There’s no us.” She scooted further until she was on the other side of the bed and threw her legs over and jumped up to face him. “You made sure of that.”
“There’s a lot going on here you don’t understand.” He didn’t move from the bed, just looked at her with pleading eyes. “Clay…” He sighed again, this time with more tiredness than before. “I know you think I just abandoned you and your mom. I know it looked that way, feels that way, but Josephine, that’s not…I mean that isn’t how I wanted it.”
“Mom told you to choose, and you did.” She spat at him.
“Your mom…fuck, Josephine.” He got off the bed and stalked to the door. “Stubborn just like when you were a little girl. Eat your breakfast.” With that he slammed the door and locked it again.
“Josephine?” Cherry’s voice came through the wall. “Josephine, you okay?”
Josephine sank back on the bed. “Yeah. I’m fine. Are you?”
“Not really. I have to pee like a fucking racehorse.” Cherry said, then started giggling. Josephine laughed, too. “Cutter’s gonna kill me if this guy doesn’t.” The laughter died.
“Cherry, he’s not going to kill you. Reaper isn’t going to, either. We’ll get out of here, and you can pee, and then we can go home. Cutter won’t care about what Clay said.”
“Yes, he will. He’ll care that I didn’t tell him.”
Josephine heard the door open on the other side of the wall and her father talking. She saw feet shuffle past her door and then another door open and close. He must have been listening to them.
“Josephine, you need the washroom?” Her father asked through the closed door. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but now that it was mentioned, she did need to pee.
“Yeah.” She called to the door and shuffled herself to it, trying to ignore him when it opened. “Can I talk with Cherry? I mean, can’t we stay in the same room?”
“The bathroom’s that way.” He pointed down the hall. When the door opened, Cherry stepped out. Her eyes were puffy and red, her short hair tangled and sticking up in odd places. She’d had a rough night.
“Cherry.” Josephine pulled her into a hug. “Did he do something to you?”
“Oh, for shit’s sake. I didn’t touch the little girl.” Her father pulled them apart. “She has trouble in small spaces. The bedroom’s big, but the locked door freaks her out.”
“Then why would you lock her in there?” Josephine yelled at him.
He pursed his lips together and pulled Cherry behind him. “Listen up, little girl. I know you think what you think, and I’ll straighten all that crap out later. Right now, you just need to know that this shit we are in affects all three of us. Clay isn’t kidding. If he says you’re gone, you’re supposed to be gone. If that doesn’t happen, I’m gone. So, you need to just give me a little less lip, so I can figure out how to get all three of us out of this shit with our heads still attached.”
Her eyes widened at his little rant, but she didn’t move. “I…” She didn’t know what to say, except to ask, “Why are you in trouble? I mean, they can’t really expect you to hurt your own daughter. Can’t you say no?”
He wiped his eyes and shook his head. “No. I don’t have a choice. I do the job that’s given to me, usually. Turning against the club is almost certain death.”
“They’ve thrown guys out before.” Cherry said from behind him.
“Yeah. And then sent me after them.” He nearly growled. “The club’s different now. Clay has lost it. Guys aren’t just let out. The only way out now is death.”
“That’s the life you chose over me and Mom?” Josephine gasped.
“No. I didn’t chose against you and your mother. The club was different then. I was different. The times were different,” he explained. “Go to the washroom, then we’ll talk.” He gestured to the bathroom. “Cherry will be in the kitchen with me.” He gave Cherry a little shove to get her going, then left Josephine to do her thing.
So many questions burned in her mind. Had her mother not told her everything? Of course she hadn’t. But would her father tell her the truth? OR would he again choose his club over his family? If she was really considered family, did he see her that way, or was she just the daughter he had so long ago?
By the time she finished up in the washroom, she’d worked herself up into a real nice mess. She found Cherry sitting at the kitchen table, a bowl of cereal in front of her and another sitting at the empty chair.
“Cheerios. Who eats Cheerios anymore?” Cherry shoveled a spoonful of the little round o’s into her mouth. Reaper stood, leaning against the counter by the coffee pot.
“Coffee. I want coffee.” She pointed to the freshly brewed pot.
“Can you have coffee? I remember your mom staying away from it when she was having you,” Reaper remarked, putting his own cup down.
Josephine rolled her eyes. “Yes, I can have it.”
“Well, not really,” Cherry whispered into her spoon, then shoveled it into her mouth.
Josephine sank into the chair and took a bite of her own food. A little soggy from sitting, but otherwise it was perfect. Not too sweet, he’d gotten honey nut version. She remembered that from her childhood, too. “Is this your house, then?” she asked, then took another spoonful of cereal.
He took a sip of his coffee and watched her. “Yeah.”
“You live here all the time? Seems a bit far out,” Josephine said, taking another bite.
“Far enough.” He poured out the rest of his coffee and plucked up the full carafe, pouring that down the sin
k as well. “I’m not looking to piss of that man of yours any more than he already is.” He explained when he caught her glare.
“Cutter and Lucas are going to tear you to shreds,” Cherry said.
He laughed. “They can try, and it’s their right, but I’m not going down with the ship.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I’m done with Clay. I’m done with the fucking Rebels. I’m done.”
Josephine watched him in silence for a few moments. He looked so worn out, so ragged from his years doing whatever he did with his club.
