by Joanna Wylde
Off to the right was a big fire pit built out of curved concrete landscaping blocks. The blackened smoke streaks and enormous pile of firewood stacked behind it made it clear the club used it often and well. Past that was a long patch of grass that I wouldn’t call lush, but it seemed to be holding its own despite the presence of a big wooden play structure complete with swings, slide, and rope bridge to a tree-house. The latter had been built into the branches of an enormous tree with a trunk that had to be nearly six feet wide. Old growth. Probably predated the building.
“Ladies, this is London Armstrong,” Darcy said as we reached the tables, which was surrounded by bustling women wearing property patches like Darcy’s. “She’s with Picnic.”
Several of the women stilled, studying me with sudden intensity. I glanced around, wondering what I’d done. A small brunette with riotously curling hair stepped forward, grinning at me. I’d met her before … What was her name? Marie. That was it. She’d shown me around Pawns the first night my crew had come in.
“Hey, London,” she said brightly. “Good to see you again! Sorry if it looks like we’re acting weird, but Picnic doesn’t usually bring women around here. Well, not the kind of women who bring fruit salad with them.”
I rolled my eyes, because I knew exactly what kind of women he liked to hang out with, and I’d be willing to bet some of them weren’t old enough to know how to make baked beans. You didn’t make the beans, either, my brain pointed out caustically. Jealous much?
Well, I could have made them if I wanted to, I insisted right back.
“Um, London? You okay?”
Oh, crap. I’d zoned out in the middle of a conversation again. I really, really needed to stop doing that. I smiled brightly and pretended I wasn’t a giant dork.
“Reese and I are dating and he wanted me to come to the party,” I told her, holding out the plastic bowl like an offering. “And I don’t believe in coming to parties empty-handed. Now how can I help?”
Marie looked impressed, and I realized I’d passed some sort of invisible test. I didn’t know what it was and I didn’t care. It was just nice to be surrounded by friendly faces, because despite the fact that the Reaper men had been good to me—for the most part—they were still scary.
“I’m Dancer,” said a tall woman with long hair, dusky skin, and a slow smile that screamed sexy. “I’m Bam Bam’s old lady. Horse is my brother, and we practically grew up in this club.”
“I met Horse,” I told her, smiling. “But I don’t think I’ve met Bam Bam.”
“He’ll be here tonight,” she said, her voice soft with something I couldn’t quite read.
“Horse is my old man,” Marie chimed in. “He’s a handful, but he’s a good guy. Most of the time, at least. Pic give you a gun yet?”
“Excuse me?”
“Has Picnic given you a gun yet?” she asked, as if it were a perfectly reasonable question. I shook my head, wondering if I’d somehow missed half the conversation.
“Just sort of seeing where things stand,” she said, smirking. That made no sense at all, so I decided to ignore it.
“Hi, I’m Em,” said a young woman with brown hair and Reese’s eyes. I recognized her immediately from the photos around his house and felt a sudden burst of nerves. This was his daughter. The one who’d moved to Portland last year, leaving him with an empty nest.
Why did I suddenly feel like I was in a job interview?
“Hi,” I said. “I’ve heard all about you. I didn’t realize you lived close enough to come to a party, though. I thought you were in Portland with your …” I fumbled for the right word, because she didn’t seem old enough to use the term “old man.” But I was pretty sure he was more than a boyfriend, and they weren’t married. Awkward, trying to figure out how to say things.
“My old man is Hunter,” she said, her eyes sparkling as she said his name. “He’s here for the meet. Bunch of clubs coming together, but that doesn’t have anything to do with us. Your only job here is to have fun, okay? Let’s go find you a drink and we can talk. I want to get to know the woman who’s moved in with my dad.”
“I wouldn’t say we’ve moved in together …”
“Have you slept there more than one night?” she asked, her voice challenging. I nodded. “Well, that’s more than he’s done with any other woman since my mom died.”
Damn. No pressure there.
Em took my arm and pulled me over past the tables to where several plastic garbage cans held silver kegs surrounded by ice. She grabbed a red Solo cup.
“Beer?”
“Sure.” Not that I’m a particularly big beer fan. Usually I drink wine, but it seemed the polite thing to do and I could nurse it through the evening. I pulled out my phone while she primed the pump, wondering why Reese never answered my message. He’d told me to text him when I arrived. Nothing.
“You waiting to hear from my dad?” Em asked, holding out the cup. I shoved the phone back into my pocket, nodding. “He’s probably welcoming the other officers who traveled here. It’s important—otherwise I’m sure he’d be out here with you already. As the president, he has certain things he needs to do at events like this, but he obviously trusts you to handle yourself. Want to sit down?”
“Sounds good,” I said, noting that she hadn’t gotten a cup of beer for herself. Hmmm … Should I have accepted her offer? Maybe it wasn’t considered appropriate to have a drink so early? A quick, surreptitious glance around told me other people had already hit the beer.
I decided I was overthinking things. Sometimes people just don’t feel like drinking, and if I kept worrying about doing something wrong I’d go crazy. We found a spot at a picnic table near the playground, and she sat down, straddling the bench to face me.
“So, this is different,” she said, and while her tone was friendly, her eyes were serious. “Since my mom died, Dad hasn’t exactly been dating women. Half the bitches he screws are younger than me and none of them have brains. I hear you own a business and while I’d never say you’re old, you’re definitely in the right age range for him. What gives?”
I smiled weakly.
“Not sure how to answer that,” I said, wondering why the hell I’d let him talk me into coming out here tonight. If he wanted me to meet everyone, he should be introducing me to them. Instead he’d thrown me into the deep end without a warning, which was sort of a dick move. “Your father and I are sort of seeing each other, I guess. Officially, just a couple days ago, although it feels like longer. It’s complicated. I’ve worked for the club since last February, and he hired me to clean out at his place. We hooked up and then my house blew up. It’s not a typical relationship.”
Her eyes widened.
“No, I guess not,” she said thoughtfully. “Why did your house blow up?”
“Good question,” I said, shrugging. “Gas buildup, so far as I can tell? Maybe the oven—in the past year or so, gas started leaking if you bumped the controls wrong. The fire investigator is looking into it. I guess for my purposes it doesn’t really matter why the place blew. All that matters is I don’t have a house … That’s really what I’m focused on at this point.”
“So he moved you into our place,” she mused. “And he moved in your daughter, too? Did I hear that right?”
Taking a drink of my beer, I tried to figure out the best way to answer that question.
“Melanie isn’t mine,” I said. “In fact, I don’t have any children of my own. I’ve been raising my cousin’s girl, though, and Melanie is her friend. Jessica is down in California right now and I don’t know if she’ll be coming back or not, but Mellie needed a place to stay. We’re actually really lucky she wasn’t hurt in the explosion—she was in the house right before it went up.”
Em’s eyes widened.
“Interesting …” she said, and I wished I could read her thoughts. “You realize this isn’t normal for my dad at all. Is Melanie out here tonight?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head emphat
ically. “She’s already got a crush on that Painter jerk, and the last thing I want is her out here spending more time near him.”
Em snorted.
“Let’s not talk about Painter, okay? Hunter and I will probably sleep out at the house tonight, so maybe I’ll meet her in the morning. We weren’t sure we were coming until the last minute. Things are sort of up in the air, but we usually stay with him …”
I caught a hint of question in her voice, and I realized she must be wondering if my presence would change things out at her dad’s place. I took a deep swig of my beer, because the longer this conversation continued, the more awkward it got. Where the hell was Reese?
“I’m sure he’ll want you to do whatever you normally would,” I told Em. “Please don’t let us get in your way. You’ll like Melanie—she’s a sweet kid. And she deserves better than what she’s got going on back home. I really appreciate your dad’s kindness.”
A funny look came over her face, and she shook her head.
“ ‘Kind’ is not a word women use for my dad.”
I shrugged, because he’d been kind to me.
He’d also been overbearing, scary, and pushy … But once a man throws his body over yours to protect you from an explosion, I guess you tend to overlook the little things.
My plan to slowly sip one drink over the course of the evening fell apart pretty quickly. For one, I was nervous as hell and the booze soothed me every time I started feeling panicky. Ideally he would’ve met me at the gate, introduced me to people, et cetera. But I also understood he was a host, and it made me feel kind of proud that he trusted me enough to simply throw me into his social circle on my own.
My “slow sipping” plan also fell apart because the Reaper women knew how to drink and they weren’t shy about encouraging me to join them. Before I knew what was happening, Dancer had lined up a row of tequila shots in front of us, issuing everyone salt and limes before declaring, “Drink up, bitches! If God wanted us sober, he wouldn’t have made shot glasses so cute!”
We all licked our hands, poured our salt, and sucked the shots down like a line of good little soldiers.
All but Em, that is.
“What’s up with that?” Dancer demanded, shouting to be heard over the music and growing noise of the party. She nodded toward the younger woman’s water bottle. “You love shots. You used to sneak them in my bathroom with your sister. Don’t tell me you’ve given up alcohol?”
Em shrugged.
“Not in the mood, I guess. Is there a law that says I have to drink?”
The women stilled and Dancer leaned in, studying the younger woman with owlish eyes. She held up a finger, waving it back and forth in the air like a divining rod, biting her tongue in concentration. Then the finger moved down, pointing toward Em’s stomach.
“You got somethin’ in there we should know about?”
My eyes went wide, darting toward Em’s tummy, which was covered by a loose T-shirt. She blushed and looked away. Dancer and Marie burst out in screams, jumping up and down, and suddenly we were surrounded by big men wearing leather and concerned facial expressions.
I was glad to see them, too, because so far as I could tell, the women had lost their minds.
“What the fuck, babe?” Horse demanded, catching Marie and pulling her into his side protectively. A young, tall, muscular man wearing black leather with red accents came up behind Em and tugged her back into his arms. He let his hands rest over her stomach and he grinned.
“Told you they’d figure it out,” he said, not looking particularly upset. I glanced at his patches and decided this must be Hunter. With his hands over her stomach. Holy shit—Em must be pregnant! Wow. I wondered how Reese would feel about that?
Grandpa Hayes.
“Fuck me,” muttered another man. He was tall and built and had a pierced eyebrow and lip. His vest said his name was Ruger, which I recognized, although I’d never met him in person. This must be Sophie’s old man—I’d met her earlier with the other girls, although she’d wandered off toward the kitchen to grab more cups a few moments ago.
“Pic know about this?” someone asked. Em shook her head.
“When’s the due date?”
“Early next year,” Hunter said. “She’s a little more than three months along, but we wanted to keep things quiet for a while.”
Someone snorted, and I realized it was Darcy.
“Good luck keeping things quiet around here,” she declared.
“Congrats,” a familiar voice said, and I looked up to find Painter staring at Em, his face utterly blank. Everyone stilled.
Interesting.
“Thanks,” she said, but she didn’t look at him. Instead she turned her head toward Hunter, who took the opportunity to press a deep, intimate kiss on her. I blushed, because if she hadn’t been pregnant before that kiss, she would’ve been after. Nobody else seemed to notice or care, though. Nobody but Painter. He turned and stalked off.
Obviously there was a story here. Not that I’d pry … but it was only human to feel curious, right?
Then something in the air changed, and I felt that sense of tension and anticipation that only came when Reese was nearby. I looked around for him, spotting him coming out of the Armory’s back door. His eyes found mine and he smiled. I melted, any lingering annoyance about being left on my own disappearing because just seeing him made me feel special and wonderful.
Ruh-roh.
I really shouldn’t be falling for him this quickly.
He came striding up to our group, throwing an arm around my neck casually, tugging me into his big body with an air of primitive possession that sent a thrill racing through me.
“Emmy Lou,” he said in greeting, and I felt the love in his voice. “Hunter.”
Not so much love for him. Lots of stories I hadn’t heard, here …
“Pic,” Hunter said, nodding. His grip on Em tightened, and that’s when Reese spotted Hunter’s hands folded protectively across Em’s stomach. I felt his entire body tense.
“What’s going on here?” he said, his voice deceptively casual. “I heard screaming, which usually means we’re under attack. Of course, it could also mean that Marie and Dancer found a new nail polish color they like.”
Em smiled at him hesitantly, and swallowed.
“Daddy, you’re going to be a grandpa.”
He stared at her blankly.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Reese muttered, and I couldn’t quite read his tone. Neither could anyone else, apparently, because we all froze. Finally he spoke again. “Congratulations, baby. Hope you’re ready for it. Kinda like the idea of some little muppet givin’ you hell for a change.”
“Means you’re stuck with me, Pic,” Hunter said, his voice full of satisfaction. Em tugged free and smacked his arm. Then she came toward Reese, who let me go so he could give her a deep hug. I stepped back, not wanting to interfere with their moment.
People scattered, giving them space, and I tried to figure out what to do with myself. Looking around, I noticed that the tables were littered with empty plastic shot glasses and beer cups. Reese and Em were still talking quietly to each other, so I figured I might as well clear up a bit while they shared her big news. Not every day a man learned he had a grandchild on the way.
It was on my third trip to the garbage, arms full of empties, that I spotted Painter out by the big old tree in the back corner of the enclosure. He’d been a jerk to me, but there was something about his body language that caught my attention. For once he didn’t look cocky.
I walked toward him, then put a hand on his shoulder.
“You okay?” I asked, my voice soft. “I don’t know all the history, but to an outsider, it seemed like that was a rough thing for you to hear. Anything I can do?”
He looked at me, and if I didn’t know better I’d say his eyes looked suspiciously watery. Then he shook his head, throwing that casual arm around me once again, pulling me in for
a quick hug. Not mocking this time—genuine.
“I’ll leave her alone,” he said quietly. I glanced up at him, confused.
“Melanie,” he clarified. “I won’t bother her, so don’t worry about it.”
I nodded, wondering if he was telling the truth. Reese’s words came back to me—these guys had so many women falling all over them that one more wouldn’t matter, right?
“Thanks,” I whispered. “She’s had a really hard time.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“Okay, then,” I said, patting his back awkwardly. “You want a drink?” He shook his head and let me go.
“Naw, think I’ll go for a ride,” he said. “Clear my head a little. You go find Pic, help him celebrate. He should enjoy tonight. Things’ll fall to shit soon enough around here. They always do.”
Alrighty, then … I glanced back toward the party, then spotted a cluster of empty cups that had been left on the play structure. They offended my sense of order and cleanliness, and that’s when I realized something wonderful.
I had something to offer these people.
I’d been feeling out of place ever since I’d gotten here, and while the women were definitely friendly and the drinking was fun, I hadn’t quite known what to do with myself. But this—making sure things got picked up, or keeping an eye out for stragglers like Painter? I could do this and help Reese in the process, because despite the fact that it was a social event, you’d have to be an idiot not to see he was under a lot of pressure here.
Better yet? I could do it and still drink.
I felt my stress drop away and I nearly laughed out loud, because I had a job to do, helping the man who’d gone out of his way to help me.
Life was good.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I was still high off my little revelation when arms came around me from behind, catching the cups I’d been holding and setting them on the table. Then Reese turned me toward him, looking down at me in satisfaction.
