Reaper's Stand

by Joanna Wylde

  I closed my eyes again, too tired to keep talking. The bed dipped and then Reese was lying next to me. It hurt to move, but I cuddled into his arms anyway. He made me feel safe and protected.

  “One more thing I should mention,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Looks like Jessica was raped. Repeatedly. She’ll need STD and pregnancy tests.”

  I closed my eyes, because I couldn’t handle thinking about that just yet.

  “She’ll need a lot more than that.”

  He didn’t say anything, which I appreciated. Instead he rubbed my back softly, soothing me. Why, I have no idea. I didn’t deserve his kindness—not after what I’d done.

  I drifted off, waking up again when someone opened the door and asked Reese something.

  “No,” he answered quietly, although I hadn’t caught the question. You need to pull yourself together, figure out what happens next.

  “Anything else I should know about?” I managed to whisper, the drug fog muffling me. He gave a humorlous laugh.

  “Well, apparently someone hit five drug warehouses and eight safe houses belonging to the cartel last night. No idea yet about a body count, but the cops are sayin’ almost all the leadership was taken out nearly simultaneously. They’re tryin’ to figure out who might be behind it.”

  “Did all of our guys make it out okay?”

  “We lost three,” he said, his voice lowering. “One Reaper and two Devil’s Jacks. Nobody you knew. And here’s bad luck for you—the cops picked up Puck and Painter last night for speeding. Found some guns in the car, so now they’re lookin’ at a trafficking charge.”

  “Shit. By ‘lost,’ do you mean … ?”

  “Dead.”

  “Who were they?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

  “My brothers,” Reese said, his voice rough. “Even the Jacks—they earned it with their blood. Now isn’t the time for crying, though. Gotta get everyone home safe first. Then we’ll remember them.”

  “What about Puck and Painter?”

  “Lawyer’s on his way right now,” he replied. “But probably not lookin’ so good for either of them. Both have priors. You owe Puck, by the way. He’s the one who figured out where you were. Hadn’t been for him, we might not’ve found you in time.”

  I frowned.

  “Surprised he bothered. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

  “Doesn’t matter how he feels about you,” Reese told me. “Protectin’ club property. That’s his job.”

  I had no idea how to react to that statement, so I decided to pretend I hadn’t heard it.

  “Overall it was a big win for us—it’ll take years for them to recover,” he continued. “The boss down in Mexico’s already been in touch, askin’ for a truce. They’ve agreed to stay south of San Francisco, at least for now, and leave the local clubs alone. In exchange, we gave ’em a little token of our appreciation.”

  “What was that?”

  “Evans.”

  I stilled.

  “I thought you said if Jess made it through you were going to let him go.”

  “No, we told him if she survived, he’d survive, and he was definitely alive when we handed him over to the Santiagos. But only an idiot thinks he can double-cross the cartel and keep breathing long term. He was dead already, just didn’t know it yet.”

  Scary as hell, but I had to agree. Nate had made his own bed, and I didn’t feel particularly sorry for him at all. I yawned. Between the drugs and the drama, I was exhausted.

  Reese probably was, too … But I had one more question for him. An important one.

  “What about me?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

  “Not sure I follow.”

  “Has the club decided what they’re going to do about me?” I repeated, the words slurring. “Now that it’s all over. I’m really sorry. I know I keep saying that and it doesn’t change anything, but it’s true. What I did was wrong—you always tried to help me, and even after I stabbed you in the back, you still saved Jessica. I know you don’t trust me and you probably don’t believe me, but I’d do anything for you, Reese. For the club, too. I can’t ever thank you enough for rescuing my baby girl …”

  “Babe, I think it’s safe to say you’re fine with the club,” he replied, and I heard a touch of humor in his voice. “You saved Em’s life, lied to the cops to protect us, and then killed Gerardo Medina—all in twenty-four hours. That’s impressive, honey. You know how many people have tried to take his ass out? Not only that, we all sorta got off on you kneecapping Deputy Dickhead. Don’t sweat it, okay? Fuck, Heather tried to kill me at least three times over the years. We’ll get through this.”

  “I don’t think I understand bikers.”

  “That’s okay, babe. You’ll figure it out.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jess cuddled up next to me like a baby the entire flight home, tucked into my side with a blanket around us both. I hadn’t quite believed Reese when he told me she was fine. She was, though. At least physically. Sure, she’d lost a finger, and I knew recovering from that wasn’t going to be fun. But her shunt really hadn’t budged, there were no signs of infection, and even the concussion she’d gotten from hitting the floor was healing up like it should.

  We also had no idea why she’d had the seizure. Of course, we’d never really understood why she had them as a child, either—or why she’d stopped having them. One thing I’ve learned over the years spent with her in hospitals and doctors’ offices is that medicine is an art, not just a science.

  They don’t know nearly as much as they want you to think.

  Mentally, things were going to be a lot harder for her. She didn’t want to talk about the rape or what had happened to her mother, but she flinched every time a man came near her. That was answer enough for me. Maybe she’d be ready to open up as time went on—not like a cargo plane full of bruised and bloodied bikers was the best spot for a heart-to-heart anyway.

  Wasn’t my place to push her.

  We finally reached Em and Hunter’s house in Portland early in the morning, less than forty-eight hours after we’d left it. Crazy, right? Reese pointed us toward a guest bedroom before taking off, saying he needed to visit Em. They’d talked by phone, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her for himself, make sure she really was going to be okay.

  I felt the same way about Jessica. I tucked her in like a child and then lay down next to her, counting her breaths like I had when she was in the NICU. I should probably go downstairs, make sure everyone else was okay … But I was so tired. Instead I drifted off, wondering what our next step should be.

  The pinging sound of a text woke me. This seemed odd, considering I hadn’t seen my phone (or purse) since before I tried to shoot Reese. I rolled over, blinking quickly, trying to figure out what was going on.

  “Turn it off,” Jess mumbled, flopping over onto her side. “Too tired for school …”

  Guess some things didn’t change.

  I looked across the room to see the purse in question sitting on top of a plain wooden dresser, next to two neat stacks of folded clothing. Who could be texting me?

  Pushing myself to my feet was painful at best. Every single part of my body hurt, including my fingernails and hair. I was sore, scratched, cut, and shot. Astoundingly, none of these things had been fatal, or even particularly serious. I stumbled across the room and unzipped my leather bag, digging around for my phone. The battery was low, but it showed a missed call and a message from my neighbor.

  DANICA: How are you doing? Still can’t believe what happened. Wanted to let you know that Hugh’s dad read about your house in the paper. They’ve got that cabin out on Kidd Island Bay road and not using it this year—was rented but the tenant fell thru. You can have if you want. Nothing special but decent. 2 bedrooms 1 bath, friends & family rate. Sitting empty and want to help.

  I stared down at the text, considering the opportunity. I’d been out there a couple of summers ago with Danic
a and her sister for a girls’ weekend. She was right—it wasn’t anything special. But it would give me, Jess, and Melanie some space. Things were still up in the air with Reese, although I was starting to believe him when he said I was safe. The guys had been friendly enough on the plane, too. Well, as friendly as a bunch of exhausted men who’d just lost three of their brothers in a battle against a drug cartel could be.

  That didn’t change the fact that Jess flinched whenever one of those big, scary men looked at her, or that I had no idea what kind of relationship Reese and I would have moving forward.

  Sure, he’d offered us rooms at his house until I figured something out … before I tried to shoot him. Not only that, no matter how happy the two of us might be together, if he scared Jessie, his house wasn’t a good place for her.

  Okay, then. Cabin it was.

  ME: I’m interested. Call you later tonight?

  DANICA: Sounds good. I’ll tell him. He says you can move in any time, he knows your good for the money. I have the keys and its furnished.

  So. That was solved. We had a place to live.

  Someone had scrounged up some clean clothing for us, including jeans that were a little too long and tight for me and a Reapers MC T-shirt. A plain sports bra and elaborately decorative thong completed the ensemble—dead giveaway that they’d been digging through the back of a closet. Probably Em’s.

  Stepping quietly out of the room, I found the bathroom across the hall and got myself cleaned up, brushing my teeth with my finger and some toothpaste left on the counter. I looked like hell, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. Few women come through shootings looking fresh and energetic, and that wasn’t even taking my plunge through the shrubbery into consideration.

  When I finished, I decided to go downstairs and get an update on Em.

  I found Reese, Horse, Bam Bam, and Skid sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee. The clock over the oven said it was eight in the morning. They were all haggard, with bloodshot eyes and stubbled chins, and their faces weren’t particularly perky.

  “Hey,” I said softly. Reese looked up at me, and something flickered in his gaze. Then he pushed his chair out just a bit and patted his knee. I went and sat on it, leaning into his comforting bulk.

  “How’s Em?”

  “She’s good,” he said. “We’re gonna run back over to the hospital soon. Kicked me out earlier, guess they’re doing some tests or something. She wants to see you.”

  I hardly knew what to say.

  “You okay with me visiting her?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart. Seein’ as you saved her fuckin’ life, she’s probably safer with you than with me. None of us even noticed something was wrong. Although I should warn you, her sister’s there. Kit’s hell on wheels and she’s been asking questions about you.”

  Great. I’d get to meet his other daughter for the first time looking like something a cat puked out.

  “How’s Hunter?”

  “Good enough,” Skid said. “Tough on him, though, hearin’ about our losses.”

  “Em needed him,” Reese said, his voice firm. “Anyone has a problem with that, they can talk to me.”

  “Nobody has a problem with it, Pic,” Skid replied, and I could tell from his tone that this wasn’t the first time they’d discussed the issue. Alrighty, then.

  “You guys want breakfast?” I asked brightly. “Do we have time?”

  “Hunter said he’d call,” Reese told me. Obviously it bothered him to be waiting on “permission” to see his daughter.

  “Breakfast it is.”

  I tugged free and walked over to the fridge, inspecting the contents. Options were limited … But there were eggs and bread. I hit the pantry and found some syrup. Twenty minutes later I had hot French toast coming off an electric skillet, which the guys seemed to appreciate. Then everyone but Reese left the kitchen, which was either convenient or extremely inconvenient, depending on how one interpreted things.

  “So how’s Jessica?” he asked, as I started washing dishes. To my surprise he came over and picked up a towel to help dry. Didn’t fit the whole He-Man vibe of the past few days, but I guess even the manliest of men will pitch in if you feed him first.

  “Still sleeping,” I said. “I don’t know how long it’ll be before she opens up about what happened. You notice how jumpy she was?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Not a good scene.”

  That was the best opening I’d get, so I ran with it.

  “We haven’t talked about what happens next,” I said hesitantly. “Crazy, but you realize it’s only been a little over a week since we first slept together?”

  “Seems like longer,” he said, taking a plate from my hand. “Too much shit happenin’ too fast.”

  “Hard to process all of it …” I said slowly. I turned to him, cocking my head. “I need to know—are we past what I did to you? Because I don’t understand how you could just let go of something like this. I’ve told you how sorry I am, but I can’t change what happened. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me.”

  “Let it go, babe.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t like that you did it, but I understand why and I don’t think you’ll do it again. Let. It. Go.”

  I blinked rapidly, my eyes filling with tears.

  “Thank you.”

  He grunted, and we continued washing dishes for a few more minutes. I couldn’t relax, though, because there was another piece of unfinished business—and his reaction to it would tell me a lot.

  “So … I found a place for us to rent this morning. We can actually move in as soon as we get back—my neighbor Danica has the keys waiting for us already, and it’s even furnished. That’ll get me and the girls out of your hair.”

  Reese set down the plate very carefully and turned to face me, arms crossed. I kept washing, which was harder to do than you’d think with him standing there, his face like granite.

  “You tryin’ to dump my ass?” he asked, his voice low and cold. I dropped the sponge and met his gaze, wiping my wet hands nervously on my thighs.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know what our relationship is, either. I mean, we agreed to see each other exclusively, then I tried to shoot you, then you threatened to slit my throat, and we finished things up by going on a killing spree together. This is outside my realm of experience, Reese. Does ‘let it go’ mean we’re still a couple, or does it just mean I shouldn’t worry about you killing me and hiding my body in the woods? Right now I’m unclear.”

  His expression softened.

  “I was kind of hoping we could move on to somethin’ a little less fucked up. Maybe watch some movies, hang out and barbecue at my place? We’ve had a rough start, but we’ve covered a lot of ground fast, too. You know, Heather and I didn’t go on a killing spree together until we’d been married for a good five years. You think Jess was a complication? Imagine shootin’ up a cartel with two preschoolers taggin’ along.”

  Holy fuck.

  His mouth quirked and then he reached up and gently pushed my jaw shut.

  “London, I’m joking. This shit is not normal. None of it. But this part isn’t a joke—we both got a lot to answer for, but I’m hopin’ you’ll give me another shot and maybe I can do the same for you? No reason for you to move out, sweetheart. I like havin’ you around. Like it a lot.”

  I studied his face, trying not to fall into those gorgeous eyes of his. They always got to me—no man should be that beautiful. But it wasn’t just about me.

  “Jess needs a place to heal up,” I told him softly. “You’ve got the club in and out of your place all the time, and right now she’s scared of men. I need some space, too. Things happened too fast, and I want to be sure that we’re doing this for the right reasons. Sometimes you have to take a step back if you want to move forward.”

  “You sound like a refrigerator magnet,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m not gonna walk away from us, London. What we
were workin’ on was different. Real. I want that and you do, too.”

  “Renting my own place isn’t walking away from us,” I replied. “But we barely had time for there to be an us. We had sex on a Wednesday and by Saturday I was spying on you. Tuesday I got kill orders. All I want is my own space while we explore us, whatever that might end up being. We’ll take it from there.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Did Heather always do what you told her to do?”

  He stilled, and I wondered if bringing her up was a mistake. But he’d started it …

  “Heather almost never did what I told her,” he admitted. “In front of the club? Sure. But she also liked to keep a knife next to the bed. Always said I was free to fuck whoever I wanted, so long as I understood that the night I came home smellin’ like another woman would be the night she killed me in my sleep.”

  I bit back a smile, looking up at him through my lashes.

  “She sounds like she was a hell of a woman.”

  “She was. But she’s dead, and you’re a hell of a woman, too, London. Come back home with me.”

  “I’ll come to visit,” I said, holding his gaze. “Sleepovers, how does that sound? We can get to know each other, do this the right way. We already did everything wrong once, but if what we have is real, me having my own place won’t kill it. When we’re ready, we can talk about moving in together.”

  His arms stayed crossed, but he nodded.

  “I’ll give you the summer,” he said slowly. “After that all bets are off.”

  Smiling, I reached my arms up around his neck and tugged his head down to mine for a kiss. He let me, but he didn’t respond at first. I pulled back.

  “Really, Reese? Pouting?”

  He frowned.

  “When you say it like that, it sounds so juvenile.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, then wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in tight. His lips caught mine and I opened for him. Need and desire flared to life, and I wanted more than his tongue inside. Good thing we’d talked before we started making out, I realized. Otherwise I’d have done whatever he asked, because kissing Reese was that good. By the time Horse stepped into the kitchen and cleared his throat, Reese had me up against the wall, both legs wrapped tight around his waist.