Reaper's Rise

by K. L. Savage

  “Are you okay?” I ask the kid. I’m concerned for him. He’s covered in blood, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all.

  What did I do?

  Jenkins doesn’t answer. His eyes are focused on what is happening in front of us. I watch as Tongue takes the serrated metal and slices against the man’s tongue, ripping it from his mouth. His pleas for life fall on deaf ears as Tongue does what he does best.

  He makes his victim mute.

  Tongue tosses the man’s appendage on the table, and that’s when I notice that Jenkins has turned white as a sheet. He looks like he’s about to puke, but he keeps his bile down.

  I remember the first time I saw this much blood. I kept shit together until we got back home, and I could puke in privacy. You never want to look weak in front of your men.

  “My job isn’t finished. My cruelty isn’t done,” Jenkins says, and I decide right then and there this is too much. He is done.

  Tongue steps back, and I look at the man who almost took Jenkins’ sister from him. His head lolls to each side. He coughs dark red blood, splattering it all over his face as the wound in his mouth fills his useless throat. He’s barely conscious.

  “Jenkins...” My warning turns to a sharp inhale when I see that he’s holding a grenade. “Where the fuck did you get that?”

  The kid ignores me.

  “Anyone have tape?” he asks, the darkness inside him nearly taking over. His soul is turning black, heart is beating, but in his eyes there’s nothing but pure joy.

  “Here.” Slingshot tosses him a roll of duct tape.

  If this is how it’s going to go down, then I’m going to be supportive.

  “Any final words?” I ask the man and then laugh at my own joke. “Of course not. My bad. I forgot. You don’t have a tongue.”

  With a look of pure hate, Jenkins shoves the grenade in his mouth and then quickly places a piece of tape across his lips, leaving the clip dangling. “You’ll never hurt anyone again. I’ll make sure of that. This is for Sarah.”

  “Oh, shit!” There are shouts from behind me as the men bolt out of the house to keep from getting blown up.

  I’m not going to leave the kid. I refuse.

  Jenkins yanks the clip from the man’s mouth, and I grab Jenkins, tossing him over my shoulder. I don’t care that he’s a grown man. All I care about is getting us out the front door and onto the ground.

  “What the fuck, Uncle Reaper?” he yells at me. “I had it!”

  “I wanted to get you out of there as quick as possible,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  Boom.

  The windows of the kitchen shatter, and we all duck down to avoid the glass. I cover Jenkins with my body. Glass shards clink to the concrete, and a satisfied smile spreads across Jenkins’ face. I roll off him and take in the scene before me. Apparently, Jenkins isn’t done yet. He climbs to his feet and takes a stick of dynamite out of his back pocket and flicks his lighter on, watching the sparks ignite and glow. He slings the dynamite at the house, and the night sky lights up with embers of gold and orange.

  It’s better than any trash can fire. I’ll give him that.

  “We’re gonna want to run now,” Jenkins informs me. A few of the guys laugh and stumble as we run to our bikes.

  I keep my head turned over my shoulder and watch as the house crumbles to the earth. The after tremors shake the ground under my boots, and adrenaline runs through my veins remembering the sound of the dynamite going off.

  “You are sick, fucker!” Tongue hollers, slapping Jenkins on the back.

  I stare at Jenkins with pride and concern. He’s changed. I can see it in his eyes.

  I did what I had to do, right?

  Every member does shit like this. I never thought I’d feel this way about Jenkins following in the MC’s footsteps. I wanted a different life for him. One that doesn’t involve blood. But I know, deep down, this is where the kid belongs.

  “How about you lead us home, Boomer?” I give him the nickname I’ve been thinking of for the last few years and light another cigarette.

  The guys cheer at Jenkins’ given road name.

  The biggest, sickest, cruelest smile takes over Jenkins’ face and pride blooms in my chest when I see the strong man he has become.

  Blood for blood, is our motto, and that’s what I just allowed the kid to have. I know Hawk would be proud of Jenkins. The kid—Boomer. I might be a little twisted now, but you have to be when you’re a Ruthless King.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  REAPER

  One Year Later

  I’d be lying if I said Sarah isn’t a beautiful young woman. I hate that I’m even noticing, but it’s hard not to when she’s always around me wearing short shorts and low-cut shirts to show the small mound of her tits.

  She’s only seventeen.

  She teases me, and it pisses me off. I don’t fuck around with minors. Everyone knows the game she’s playing with me. Everyone’s known ever since the day she came to our club; she’s latched onto me in more than one way. It’s unhealthy.

  And it’s driving me crazy.

  I’m not going to jail over some little girl with a crush. That’s all this is—a crush. I never tell anyone that deep inside, I know better. Once she turns eighteen, a part of me wants to claim her as mine, but what the hell is a girl who is eighteen going to do with a man twenty-one years older than her? That’s too big of an age difference. No matter how much I’m going to want her when the time is right, we can never happen. We are in different places in our lives.

  “Hey, Jesse,” she greets as she sits at the kitchen table, holding a cup of coffee to her chest.

  She’s wearing my damn shirt again.

  “Sarah, what did I tell you about calling me that?” She’s the only one who doesn’t call me Reaper. “And stop wearing my shit.” Because she looks too damn good in it, and I don’t need this kind of shit in my life right now.

  “But it’s comfortable,” she pouts, and the collar of my shirt falls down her shoulder, revealing her flawless creamy skin.

  “I’m out of here,” I growl, throwing my plate in the sink and walking away from the menace. I pass Tool, who’s giggling like a fucking schoolgirl at me.

  “I think someone has an admirer,” he teases as he blows me a kiss.

  “Fuck you,” I grunt as I walk by him and Poodle and vanish into my room. I lean against the door and take a deep breath. My fingers find the lock on the gold knob and turn it, making sure she can’t get in.

  Little maniac. She and her brother both got the crazy gene from Hawk. Dealing with the both of them has made me age ten years. I have a protective fatherly instinct toward Jenkins, but Sarah? I’m protective of her in another way; a way I can’t put my finger on. A way I know I’m not allowed to feel because she’s fucking seventeen.

  One more year and this can stop driving me crazy.

  “What did you do, Sarah?” Jenkins voice from behind my door as me turning and placing my ear against the wood. It’s a bit muted, but I can see hear it.

  “Nothing. He got mad because I accidently wore his shirt.”

  “You need to stop that shit. I know what you’re trying to do. Uncle Reap isn’t ever going to touch you. You’re way too young. You need to stop with the show.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jenkins.”

  She calls everyone by their actual name, never their road name. It drives everyone crazy.

  “Sure you don’t. He’s a grown man, Sarah. I’m not saying this to hurt your feelings, but he wants a grown woman.”

  “I have one more year until I’m grown.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Jesus, Sarah!” Jenkins hisses at her, and I know she probably cowered from his reaction. That’s what she’s done ever since she came here, and it kills me. I want to unlock the door and come to her rescue, but that will only make her latch onto me more.

  What I need to do is find Millie and take all my frustrations out on her.
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br />   Even the thought of doing that makes me tired, though. I’m better off waiting, even if I don’t know what I’m waiting for.

  Yes, you do. You’re waiting until Sarah is legal.

  “Fuck!” I roar and grab the half empty bottle of bourbon on my nightstand and take a big swig. I break free from it, take a deep breath, and chug again, trying to drown out those big brown eyes that haunt my fucking dreams.

  She knows she gets to me too. I can tell by the way she looks at me when she does something to catch my attention.

  Like fucking breathe.

  I scrub my hands over my face and lay on my bed, making the decision to stay away from her. Even once she’s eighteen, I’ll want her more than the own air in my lungs. She’s Hawk’s daughter. She’s off limits. He’d kick my ass if an old bastard like me went after his only little girl.

  She isn’t little.

  Yes, she is. That’s what I need to keep telling myself.

  I finish off the bottle and throw it in the trash. It’s nearly time for me to hit the hay, anyway. With a slight buzz warming my blood and the image of Sarah fading into the back of my mind, I exhale and allow myself to fall into sleep. Tomorrow is a new day. A new set of rules.

  ***

  I groan when a pair of hot lips suck on my neck. My cock is rock hard, and my balls pull up tight when a soft hand wraps around my long steel length through my sweatpants.

  “Fuck, that feels good,” I say to Millie as she bites my jugular. I’ve never known her to be so forward and rough, but I fucking like it. She’s doing everything she never does.

  My hands trail down her back and grip her ass, rolling her against my cock. This is exactly what I need.

  “Jesse,” she moans.

  And everything around me stops.

  My heart thumps against my chest. I push her off me and turn on the light next to my bed, knowing damn well who I’m going to see. “What the fuck, Sarah!” I hiss, picking up the shirt she just tossed on my chest. I avert my eyes and give it back to her. “Get dressed and get the fuck out.”

  “You were liking what I was doing,” she purrs. “You’re still hard. Come on, Jesse, stop fighting this thing between us.”

  “You’re selfish,” I say with a shake of my head. “Fucking selfish.” I grab her the arms and flip her over, bringing my hand down on her ass until she cries out. “I’m not going to jail for you. Get your shit together, Sarah.” I spank her again and then put her on her feet. I pull the shirt over her head as tears falling down her cheeks. “Anything jerking my cock is going to feel fucking great. I thought you were Millie.”

  “What?” She looks like I just slapped her across the face.

  “You’re too young for me, Sarah. You’re seventeen. If you come into my room again and tempt me, I’ll kick you out of the clubhouse, and you’ll have to find your own place. I’m not playing these games.”

  “I thought—” Her chin wobbles, and she pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  “You thought wrong,” I sneer, hating that I’m being so cruel. I long for the day to be able to actually have her in my arms, but not like this; not while she’s underage. And after tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve pushed her away forever. “You’re a little girl. You need to date boys your own age.” I soften my voice and grab her shoulders, but cock finally flaccid as she starts to really cry.

  Good. That’s exactly what needs to happen.

  “But I love you,” she says. “Jesse—”

  “Stop. You think you love me. It’s just a crush.” I hate every word that comes out of my mouth. “Don’t ever come back in my room.” I open the door to usher her out. She doesn’t hesitate; she dashes down the hall and disappears. I slam the door and lock it again, dragging my hands down my face.

  She has no idea what love is. She’s too young.

  I’ve never felt like such a bastard in my entire life, but there is too much at stake for there to ever be anything between us. The reality is, no matter how old that girl is, I need to stay away until the day I die. Loving me will do nothing but destroy her.

  I won’t be responsible for that.

  “Damn it,” I curse, and my hand comes up and touches the spot on my neck that she sucked on. It still burns from her touch. My heart still races, and my soul still yearns for the one woman I can’t have.

  Not just because she’s a minor.

  Not just because she’s my best friend’s daughter.

  Not just because she’s my nephew’s sister.

  But because I’m Reaper, with countless souls under my belt, and I’m afraid I’ll do the exact same thing to her. I can’t suck the life out of Sarah when she’s only just beginning.

  When she’s eighteen, thirty, forty, she’ll be safely away from me.

  And every single fucking day I’ll be in agony over her.

  She’s ruthless.