Reaper's Fire
Page 62
Gage shook his head.
“You don’t know my club,” he said softly. “But you will. They’re here in town because things got out of hand with the Nighthawks—we both know it’s true. I came here to see for myself and found them terrorizing everyone. Now we’re going to fix it. Then I’ll introduce you to my brothers and their families and you’ll see what we’re really about.”
“I have no interest in your friends, let alone their families,” I snarled the word, turning it ugly. “Especially if they’re all as fucked up as you.”
Gage shook his head slowly, eyes hardening. “Hate me all you want, but don’t judge people you’ve never even met. My Reaper brothers are real, just as real as you and Darren and Carrie. They have wives. Children. We’re people, Tinker, not stereotypes. We live life on our own terms, but you’re a fucking hypocrite if you fall for all the shit people say about us, especially people like your ex. That’s bullshit, the same kind of bullshit they’ve thrown at you because of that stupid fucking sex tape.”
“You can’t compare this to that—you got arrested for drugs!”
“No, Tinker, I didn’t,” Gage said. “Everyone who got arrested for drugs is still in jail. I don’t fucking use meth, and there wasn’t a trace of it on me, either. Guess your sources were wrong about that, hmmm? Wonder what else they got wrong? Maybe you should ask first instead of making assumptions.”
I took a deep breath, shuddering with relief. I hadn’t even realized how Carrie’s phone call had scared me.
“So you weren’t selling drugs out of my apartment building?”
Gage caught my eyes, holding my gaze.
“No, Tinker. I wasn’t selling drugs out of your building. I wasn’t selling drugs at all. I was mostly fixing your roof and unclogging your toilets and trying to figure out what to do about this incredible, sexy, irresistible woman who came into my life at exactly the wrong time, because I couldn’t get her out of my brain. Give me a chance, Tinker. I dare you. Meet my brothers. Meet their families. But keep your mind open. Otherwise you’re just as bad as Maisy and Heather. They’ve held that tape over you like you’re some kind of whore who deserves to be punished for being human. But you aren’t a whore and the truth is never that black and white. Get to know me, get to know my brothers. My family. Give them a chance.”
I considered his words, and something hit me. Before I’d been caught on that tape, I’d have felt perfectly justified in judging him. He’d lied to me, and there was no excuse for that. Except it sounded like maybe he did have a reason. I thought about Sadie and her bruising. About the fact that she’d refused to go to the police, and that if she had, Marsh might have punished her for it.
Cooper hadn’t lied about one thing—something had gone terribly wrong in Hallies Falls, and it needed fixing.
Try it. Try opening your mind. See what happens.
“So that means I’ll meet your sons?” I asked, stomach twisting. He was right—I didn’t know what’d happened, and I didn’t know this new version of Cooper. I tried to imagine him as a parent—had tried to imagine it all along—but I’d never been able to picture it. The thought of this scary man having children was almost beyond me.
Gage didn’t answer immediately. I studied him, growing nervous. There was more—I could sense it. See it in his face.
“I don’t have any children,” he admitted.
Raising a hand to my stomach, I thought about Tricia.
“You don’t have kids?” I asked, stunned. “You lied about being a father to me? Why would you lie about that, of all things? What does that have to do with a motorcycle club?”
He sighed. “I lied about everything, Tinker. I created the man I needed to be, for my club. But then I met you and that’s fucked everything up worse.”
I knew he was still talking, but my brain was shutting down. Jesus, and I’d thought the first lie hurt . . . but this. Treating the idea of having sons—living children—like it didn’t matter, I couldn’t wrap my head around that. I’d wanted my baby more than anything. I’d give my life to have her back, and this Gage person used imaginary kids as a prop in his little motorcycle spy game.
I couldn’t do this.
“Get out,” I said, clutching my stomach tighter, picturing her precious little face. It’d looked like she was sleeping. A man with sad eyes and a camera had come into my hospital room that afternoon. He’d taken a portrait of me holding her, and then she was gone forever.
Tricia hadn’t been a lie.
“We need to talk,” he insisted.
“Get out,” I hissed, something breaking deep inside my soul. I wanted him out, and I wanted him out now.
He shook his head. “We’re gonna work through this.”
“Get out of my house!” I shouted at him, slamming against his chest with both hands as hard as I could, really putting my body into it. In that instant I hated him. Hated him with all the black rage I held coiled inside and he wouldn’t get the fuck out of my way! Grabbing his shoulder, I tried to knee him like I’d learned in self-defense class. He blocked me at the last minute, catching me and wrapping me tight in his arms, holding me prisoner.
“Settle down,” he muttered. I bit his shoulder. Not playfully. I dug my teeth in deep and hard, and if it hadn’t been for his leather vest, I’d have drawn blood. “Jesus, fuck! Stop it!”
I bucked against him, and while his arms tightened around me I had the advantage, because I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t give a shit about hurting him and I didn’t give a shit about hurting myself.
I just wanted him to leave before I shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Stop,” he grunted. Loosening my teeth from his shoulder, I went for his neck instead. He wasn’t expecting that, and when I dug in he shouted in a way that let me know I’d hurt him, and hurt him good. Finally. Suddenly his arms dropped as he shoved me away, one hand clutching his neck, blood oozing between his fingers. It happened so fast that I fell back on my butt, slamming into the wooden floor. Pain washed through me, but the anger numbed it. Gage backed away, glaring at me. Ignoring him, I jumped to my feet and lunged for the sideboard where he’d coiled his belt.
Coiled his belt and set down his gun.
“You don’t know my club,” he said softly. “But you will. They’re here in town because things got out of hand with the Nighthawks—we both know it’s true. I came here to see for myself and found them terrorizing everyone. Now we’re going to fix it. Then I’ll introduce you to my brothers and their families and you’ll see what we’re really about.”
“I have no interest in your friends, let alone their families,” I snarled the word, turning it ugly. “Especially if they’re all as fucked up as you.”
Gage shook his head slowly, eyes hardening. “Hate me all you want, but don’t judge people you’ve never even met. My Reaper brothers are real, just as real as you and Darren and Carrie. They have wives. Children. We’re people, Tinker, not stereotypes. We live life on our own terms, but you’re a fucking hypocrite if you fall for all the shit people say about us, especially people like your ex. That’s bullshit, the same kind of bullshit they’ve thrown at you because of that stupid fucking sex tape.”
“You can’t compare this to that—you got arrested for drugs!”
“No, Tinker, I didn’t,” Gage said. “Everyone who got arrested for drugs is still in jail. I don’t fucking use meth, and there wasn’t a trace of it on me, either. Guess your sources were wrong about that, hmmm? Wonder what else they got wrong? Maybe you should ask first instead of making assumptions.”
I took a deep breath, shuddering with relief. I hadn’t even realized how Carrie’s phone call had scared me.
“So you weren’t selling drugs out of my apartment building?”
Gage caught my eyes, holding my gaze.
“No, Tinker. I wasn’t selling drugs out of your building. I wasn’t selling drugs at all. I was mostly fixing your roof and unclogging your toilets and trying to figure out what to do about this incredible, sexy, irresistible woman who came into my life at exactly the wrong time, because I couldn’t get her out of my brain. Give me a chance, Tinker. I dare you. Meet my brothers. Meet their families. But keep your mind open. Otherwise you’re just as bad as Maisy and Heather. They’ve held that tape over you like you’re some kind of whore who deserves to be punished for being human. But you aren’t a whore and the truth is never that black and white. Get to know me, get to know my brothers. My family. Give them a chance.”
I considered his words, and something hit me. Before I’d been caught on that tape, I’d have felt perfectly justified in judging him. He’d lied to me, and there was no excuse for that. Except it sounded like maybe he did have a reason. I thought about Sadie and her bruising. About the fact that she’d refused to go to the police, and that if she had, Marsh might have punished her for it.
Cooper hadn’t lied about one thing—something had gone terribly wrong in Hallies Falls, and it needed fixing.
Try it. Try opening your mind. See what happens.
“So that means I’ll meet your sons?” I asked, stomach twisting. He was right—I didn’t know what’d happened, and I didn’t know this new version of Cooper. I tried to imagine him as a parent—had tried to imagine it all along—but I’d never been able to picture it. The thought of this scary man having children was almost beyond me.
Gage didn’t answer immediately. I studied him, growing nervous. There was more—I could sense it. See it in his face.
“I don’t have any children,” he admitted.
Raising a hand to my stomach, I thought about Tricia.
“You don’t have kids?” I asked, stunned. “You lied about being a father to me? Why would you lie about that, of all things? What does that have to do with a motorcycle club?”
He sighed. “I lied about everything, Tinker. I created the man I needed to be, for my club. But then I met you and that’s fucked everything up worse.”
I knew he was still talking, but my brain was shutting down. Jesus, and I’d thought the first lie hurt . . . but this. Treating the idea of having sons—living children—like it didn’t matter, I couldn’t wrap my head around that. I’d wanted my baby more than anything. I’d give my life to have her back, and this Gage person used imaginary kids as a prop in his little motorcycle spy game.
I couldn’t do this.
“Get out,” I said, clutching my stomach tighter, picturing her precious little face. It’d looked like she was sleeping. A man with sad eyes and a camera had come into my hospital room that afternoon. He’d taken a portrait of me holding her, and then she was gone forever.
Tricia hadn’t been a lie.
“We need to talk,” he insisted.
“Get out,” I hissed, something breaking deep inside my soul. I wanted him out, and I wanted him out now.
He shook his head. “We’re gonna work through this.”
“Get out of my house!” I shouted at him, slamming against his chest with both hands as hard as I could, really putting my body into it. In that instant I hated him. Hated him with all the black rage I held coiled inside and he wouldn’t get the fuck out of my way! Grabbing his shoulder, I tried to knee him like I’d learned in self-defense class. He blocked me at the last minute, catching me and wrapping me tight in his arms, holding me prisoner.
“Settle down,” he muttered. I bit his shoulder. Not playfully. I dug my teeth in deep and hard, and if it hadn’t been for his leather vest, I’d have drawn blood. “Jesus, fuck! Stop it!”
I bucked against him, and while his arms tightened around me I had the advantage, because I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t give a shit about hurting him and I didn’t give a shit about hurting myself.
I just wanted him to leave before I shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Stop,” he grunted. Loosening my teeth from his shoulder, I went for his neck instead. He wasn’t expecting that, and when I dug in he shouted in a way that let me know I’d hurt him, and hurt him good. Finally. Suddenly his arms dropped as he shoved me away, one hand clutching his neck, blood oozing between his fingers. It happened so fast that I fell back on my butt, slamming into the wooden floor. Pain washed through me, but the anger numbed it. Gage backed away, glaring at me. Ignoring him, I jumped to my feet and lunged for the sideboard where he’d coiled his belt.
Coiled his belt and set down his gun.
