Reaper's Stand
Page 21
Huh. I’d said it to make her feel better, but it was the truth, too. It really was just a house. The sadness and shock I’d been fighting faded, replaced with relief. Not that I was happy about losing my home, but I was mostly just thankful that Mellie hadn’t been hurt. That I hadn’t been hurt.
“I can buy a new house. Or build one … I don’t know. Nothing that really matters is gone.”
The door opened, and a woman stepped in. She looked way too young to be a doctor, but she had all the right props—white coat, stethoscope, hair pulled back in a bun.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Logan,” she said. “I’ve got your test results, Melanie. Would you like to talk with me privately?”
“No, they can stay,” Mellie said, her hands tightening on mine.
“Well, I think you’re going to be just fine,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “You’ve got a concussion, so we’ll keep you overnight to keep an eye on things, but I don’t think you need to worry. There’s no sign of bleeding, no serious trauma to the head or spine. You got lucky.”
Relief filled her face. Then she glanced at me.
“Do I have to stay at the hospital?” she asked quietly.
“I think it’s a good idea. You can go home first thing tomorrow, if there aren’t any complications.”
“I’ll come and get you,” I told her, feeling suddenly exhausted. “But the doctor’s right—better to be safe. You were unconscious for several minutes.”
“All right,” Melanie agreed, and I smiled, leaning over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Such a sweet girl. Whatever else Jessica had gotten wrong, she’d definitely hit the jackpot the day she dragged Mellie home with her.
An hour later we had Mel all tucked into a room upstairs, and she was starting to drift off into sleep. Reese walked me downstairs, where I was startled to see several of his club brothers waiting for him, including Gage and both of the prospects I’d met that night I’d driven out to the Armory.
There were also the two men I’d seen with Jessica that same evening. Painter and Banks? Hard to remember their names, although I’d never forget the sight of them in that little room with her. Hateful night.
I smiled at them weakly but opted not to say anything. I didn’t have the energy.
“I’m takin’ London home,” Reese announced. “Painter, you’re with me.”
“I’ll come out, too,” Gage said. “We should talk.”
“Everything okay?” I asked, wondering what could possibly be more important than sleep at this point. A giant of a man with shoulder-length dark hair gave me a quick, charming smile. The patch on his leather vest said “Horse.” Funny name.
“All good, babe,” he said. “No worries. We’ll talk to the boss and then get out of your hair.”
I shrugged, because I was past curiosity. We all walked out to the parking lot, where Reese carefully helped me onto his bike. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head against his back, utterly spent.
The sun kissed the mountains through the darkness as we pulled out of the parking lot, sending pink streaking through the sky for my second ride with Reese. Same colors as last night—this time it was sunrise, the start of a new day.
My whole world was changing faster than I could keep up with, and it scared me a little. I hugged him tighter, thankful that in the midst of all this mess I had someone solid to anchor me.
Wishful thinking?
Probably. I didn’t care—all I wanted were his arms around me while I slept. Warm. Strong.
Safe.
REESE
I sat at the head of my dining room table, wondering how many times over the years we’d had meetings in here just like this one.
Too many to count.
Back in the day, Heather always kept the fridge fully stocked with beer and snacks for when the guys came over. My girl Em had done the same as she grew up, although not as efficiently.
Now I took a deep, cold drink of the beer London had gotten at the grocery. Hadn’t asked her to do it, she just noticed what I liked and then bought more of it when I got low. Felt good to have a woman in the house, even if she only took care of me because I hired her to do it.
I wasn’t paying her to fuck me, though.
Thinking about her in my bedroom right now, wrapped tight in my sheets, waiting for me? That gave me a satisfaction and sense of rightness that I hadn’t even realized I was missing.
Dangerous.
“So, what’s the report?” I asked Gage. Ruger, Horse, Bolt, and Painter sat back, waiting patiently. I had a feeling they’d had this discussion at least once already, probably in the hospital parking lot.
“They’ll be checking it out, and whatever goes in the final report gets run by us first,” Gage said slowly. “Off the record? Fire investigator told me it might not be an accident. Houses explode sometimes, of course. Faulty valves let the gas build up and then when something touches it off, boom. But he doesn’t think it fits the pattern of an accidental explosion.”
“Interesting …” I murmured. “Bud said he thought it was an accident. Said that’s what the firefighters were sayin’. He full of shit?”
Gage shrugged.
“Could be. He’s gettin’ a lot of pressure from the Evans family. They’re out for blood, and this shit with London dumping the crown prince for you puts us in their sights. But I think what’s really happening is they’re cuttin’ Bud out of the loop. Everyone knows he’s on borrowed time, so they’re pickin’ sides. Fire department is with us, always has been. They’ll report to us first, then tell him what he needs to hear.”
Painter grunted in agreement, his young face grim. Once upon a time, I thought he might end up my son-in-law. Still couldn’t decide how I felt about that. He didn’t love Em, not the way I wanted her loved by her old man—that meant he wasn’t the right one for her. But now she was living with Hunter Blake, a nomad with the Devil’s Jacks. Hated that fucker. I’d come to respect him, but that’s where it ended. Too much bad blood between us.
“I talked to Jeff Bradley,” Painter said. “Went to high school together, he’s one of the firefighters who was there tonight. He’s pretty new, but one of the older guys told him it looked wrong for an accident. I think we need to at least consider that this was a planned hit.”
“But why London?” I asked. “Wasn’t ’til today that I finally nailed her. Not like she’s an old lady.”
“No, but she belongs to the club,” Ruger said thoughtfully. “Works for us, been comin’ out to your place. From the outside, probably looks like you’ve been bangin’ her for a few weeks now.”
He raised a good point.
“So we assume it’s a strike at the club until we learn otherwise. Thoughts?”
“Wait and watch,” Horse said. “Smells like the cartel to me—they love blowin’ shit up. See if they tip their hand moving forward. Let the cops play with it for now, see how it goes.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep London out here with me until we know for sure,” I said. “Want her safe.”
“So it’s like that?” Ruger asked.
I shrugged. “Dunno what it is. But I know that I don’t want her caught in the crossfire, assuming this is about the club. I got a bad feelin’ about this shit tonight. Way too coincidental, doesn’t add up. Whatever happens between me and her, don’t want her hurt because she caught my eye.”
“Since when do you care?” Painter asked, his eyes sharp. “You in the market for an old lady?”
Tension filled the air, because the older brothers knew better than to suggest I’d ever replace Heather. I’d laid good men out for less. Somehow the question didn’t piss me off like it normally would. Probably because this time it made sense. I’d never moved a woman into my place before—he had a good reason for asking. I realized they had all stilled, waiting for an answer. Might as well clear it up.
“I’ll never have another old lady,” I said carefully. “I like London. She’s a good fuck, handy around the house. Cute. But that doesn’t mean I’m keepin’ her long term.”
“Just don’t fuck up so bad she drops the cleaning accounts,” Gage said, his voice serious. “I got high hopes for her at The Line.”
“No shit,” Bolt chimed in. “Best thing that ever happened to the pawn shop.”
“Since when we do let business come before pleasure?” I asked, cocking a brow.
“Since the night I had to scrub the fuckin’ toilets because the old cleaners were stealing shit and I had to fire them,” Gage said bluntly. “Not a fan, Pic. Anyone can suck your dick, but a woman who stays on top of the toilets is a goddamn treasure. I’d protect her from whoever blew up her place on that basis alone.”
I snorted, shaking my head because he was right. Gettin’ my dick sucked on a regular basis wasn’t exactly a challenge, but London was a fuckuva lot more than that.
And not just because she cleaned.
I liked having her under my roof. Sooner or later she’d talk to her insurance agent, maybe look into getting an apartment. To my surprise, I didn’t care for that idea much at all.
“Okay, so we’ll keep an eye out,” I said. “And I’ll keep her out here for the duration. She’s got a couple kids in tow, too—the girl who was at the house tonight and her little cousin. Guess they’ll be sleepin’ upstairs until we get this worked out.”
“Admit it. You hate living in a house that isn’t full of girls screechin’ and fighting over the bathroom, you fuckin’ masochist,” Horse said, evil glee in his eyes. “Em and Kit are gone, so you’re auditioning replacement daughters. Seek professional help, bro. Or at least go for a son this time. Somethin’ wrong with a man so eager to get pussy whipped.”
I rolled my eyes and flipped him off, standing up.
“Okay, we’re good here,” I said, glancing pointedly toward the door. London was waiting for me, which meant fightin’ with Horse wasn’t exactly a priority.
“Painter stays out here tonight,” Gage said. “Don’t want to step on your toes, prez, but you need backup. If that really was the cartel, we can’t leave you uncovered.”
I sighed, because I knew he was right. As sergeant at arms, it was Gage’s job to worry.
“Okay, kid,” I said to Painter. “You take the guest room. Tomorrow you head home, grab some shit. Might be stuck here for a while. If Jessica comes back from California, the hands stay off. Don’t care how convenient it would be. Got me?”
Painter gave a sharp nod, and then the meeting was over. Shitty night, but at least I’d be bedding down with London soon. Not sayin’ I was happy her house had blown up, but I guess there’s always good with the bad. Probably best not to share my theory with her under the circumstances, though.
Women get all touchy and shit sometimes.
LONDON
I woke up in a man’s arms for the second time in twenty-four hours. Reese. His body surrounded mine, and I wore a T-shirt that was far too big for me. Not mine. Why was I here?
Then it came back to me.
My house was gone.
My clothing, my pictures, my books … All of it. Gone. For no good reason. I lay still in the early-morning light, wondering what the next move should be. What I really wanted to do was cry and feel sorry for myself, but I’ve always been practical. With my life, I’ve had to be—no point in wasting time whining when there’s work to be done.
First up, I needed to call Jessica.
I rolled over to grab my phone and felt Reese’s arm tighten on me. He pulled me back into his hips, the press of his morning erection sending tingles radiating up between my legs to my nipples.
“I need to make some phone calls,” I told him softly. He nuzzled the back of my neck and I squirmed, because I couldn’t just lie down and pretend last night hadn’t happened.
He sighed and loosened his grip.
“I’m here, babe,” he said softly, kissing my shoulder. Three little words, but they felt so good. He was here, with me. For once I wasn’t on my own, and while I wasn’t fool enough to think his presence changed anything in my big picture, just waking up in his arms meant more than I could have imagined.
“Thanks,” I whispered. Then I took my phone and pressed my finger to Jessica’s number. Surprisingly, she answered on the first ring, her voice alert, almost strained. Had Melanie called her already?
“Hey, Jess,” I said softly. “I have some bad news for you.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I don’t know how to say this …”
“Just spit it out,” she snapped. I heard a cracking noise and then she coughed suddenly, gasping.
“You all right?” I asked quickly.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice more subdued. “Sorry, just dropped something. What’s going on?”
“The house blew up.”
Silence.
“Excuse me?”
“The house blew up,” I repeated, the words sounding unreal even to me. “I don’t know how or why. Probably a gas leak. I’ll talk to the police later today, but it all burned down. There’s nothing left.”
“Is Melanie all right?” she asked, her voice full of dread. I paused, wondering how she knew about Mellie.
“She got out. They took her to the hospital because she hit her head. I’ll go get her in a bit, but I stayed with her long enough to know she’s going to be just fine. Nothing serious. You should know that her mother—”
“I can buy a new house. Or build one … I don’t know. Nothing that really matters is gone.”
The door opened, and a woman stepped in. She looked way too young to be a doctor, but she had all the right props—white coat, stethoscope, hair pulled back in a bun.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Logan,” she said. “I’ve got your test results, Melanie. Would you like to talk with me privately?”
“No, they can stay,” Mellie said, her hands tightening on mine.
“Well, I think you’re going to be just fine,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile. “You’ve got a concussion, so we’ll keep you overnight to keep an eye on things, but I don’t think you need to worry. There’s no sign of bleeding, no serious trauma to the head or spine. You got lucky.”
Relief filled her face. Then she glanced at me.
“Do I have to stay at the hospital?” she asked quietly.
“I think it’s a good idea. You can go home first thing tomorrow, if there aren’t any complications.”
“I’ll come and get you,” I told her, feeling suddenly exhausted. “But the doctor’s right—better to be safe. You were unconscious for several minutes.”
“All right,” Melanie agreed, and I smiled, leaning over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Such a sweet girl. Whatever else Jessica had gotten wrong, she’d definitely hit the jackpot the day she dragged Mellie home with her.
An hour later we had Mel all tucked into a room upstairs, and she was starting to drift off into sleep. Reese walked me downstairs, where I was startled to see several of his club brothers waiting for him, including Gage and both of the prospects I’d met that night I’d driven out to the Armory.
There were also the two men I’d seen with Jessica that same evening. Painter and Banks? Hard to remember their names, although I’d never forget the sight of them in that little room with her. Hateful night.
I smiled at them weakly but opted not to say anything. I didn’t have the energy.
“I’m takin’ London home,” Reese announced. “Painter, you’re with me.”
“I’ll come out, too,” Gage said. “We should talk.”
“Everything okay?” I asked, wondering what could possibly be more important than sleep at this point. A giant of a man with shoulder-length dark hair gave me a quick, charming smile. The patch on his leather vest said “Horse.” Funny name.
“All good, babe,” he said. “No worries. We’ll talk to the boss and then get out of your hair.”
I shrugged, because I was past curiosity. We all walked out to the parking lot, where Reese carefully helped me onto his bike. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head against his back, utterly spent.
The sun kissed the mountains through the darkness as we pulled out of the parking lot, sending pink streaking through the sky for my second ride with Reese. Same colors as last night—this time it was sunrise, the start of a new day.
My whole world was changing faster than I could keep up with, and it scared me a little. I hugged him tighter, thankful that in the midst of all this mess I had someone solid to anchor me.
Wishful thinking?
Probably. I didn’t care—all I wanted were his arms around me while I slept. Warm. Strong.
Safe.
REESE
I sat at the head of my dining room table, wondering how many times over the years we’d had meetings in here just like this one.
Too many to count.
Back in the day, Heather always kept the fridge fully stocked with beer and snacks for when the guys came over. My girl Em had done the same as she grew up, although not as efficiently.
Now I took a deep, cold drink of the beer London had gotten at the grocery. Hadn’t asked her to do it, she just noticed what I liked and then bought more of it when I got low. Felt good to have a woman in the house, even if she only took care of me because I hired her to do it.
I wasn’t paying her to fuck me, though.
Thinking about her in my bedroom right now, wrapped tight in my sheets, waiting for me? That gave me a satisfaction and sense of rightness that I hadn’t even realized I was missing.
Dangerous.
“So, what’s the report?” I asked Gage. Ruger, Horse, Bolt, and Painter sat back, waiting patiently. I had a feeling they’d had this discussion at least once already, probably in the hospital parking lot.
“They’ll be checking it out, and whatever goes in the final report gets run by us first,” Gage said slowly. “Off the record? Fire investigator told me it might not be an accident. Houses explode sometimes, of course. Faulty valves let the gas build up and then when something touches it off, boom. But he doesn’t think it fits the pattern of an accidental explosion.”
“Interesting …” I murmured. “Bud said he thought it was an accident. Said that’s what the firefighters were sayin’. He full of shit?”
Gage shrugged.
“Could be. He’s gettin’ a lot of pressure from the Evans family. They’re out for blood, and this shit with London dumping the crown prince for you puts us in their sights. But I think what’s really happening is they’re cuttin’ Bud out of the loop. Everyone knows he’s on borrowed time, so they’re pickin’ sides. Fire department is with us, always has been. They’ll report to us first, then tell him what he needs to hear.”
Painter grunted in agreement, his young face grim. Once upon a time, I thought he might end up my son-in-law. Still couldn’t decide how I felt about that. He didn’t love Em, not the way I wanted her loved by her old man—that meant he wasn’t the right one for her. But now she was living with Hunter Blake, a nomad with the Devil’s Jacks. Hated that fucker. I’d come to respect him, but that’s where it ended. Too much bad blood between us.
“I talked to Jeff Bradley,” Painter said. “Went to high school together, he’s one of the firefighters who was there tonight. He’s pretty new, but one of the older guys told him it looked wrong for an accident. I think we need to at least consider that this was a planned hit.”
“But why London?” I asked. “Wasn’t ’til today that I finally nailed her. Not like she’s an old lady.”
“No, but she belongs to the club,” Ruger said thoughtfully. “Works for us, been comin’ out to your place. From the outside, probably looks like you’ve been bangin’ her for a few weeks now.”
He raised a good point.
“So we assume it’s a strike at the club until we learn otherwise. Thoughts?”
“Wait and watch,” Horse said. “Smells like the cartel to me—they love blowin’ shit up. See if they tip their hand moving forward. Let the cops play with it for now, see how it goes.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep London out here with me until we know for sure,” I said. “Want her safe.”
“So it’s like that?” Ruger asked.
I shrugged. “Dunno what it is. But I know that I don’t want her caught in the crossfire, assuming this is about the club. I got a bad feelin’ about this shit tonight. Way too coincidental, doesn’t add up. Whatever happens between me and her, don’t want her hurt because she caught my eye.”
“Since when do you care?” Painter asked, his eyes sharp. “You in the market for an old lady?”
Tension filled the air, because the older brothers knew better than to suggest I’d ever replace Heather. I’d laid good men out for less. Somehow the question didn’t piss me off like it normally would. Probably because this time it made sense. I’d never moved a woman into my place before—he had a good reason for asking. I realized they had all stilled, waiting for an answer. Might as well clear it up.
“I’ll never have another old lady,” I said carefully. “I like London. She’s a good fuck, handy around the house. Cute. But that doesn’t mean I’m keepin’ her long term.”
“Just don’t fuck up so bad she drops the cleaning accounts,” Gage said, his voice serious. “I got high hopes for her at The Line.”
“No shit,” Bolt chimed in. “Best thing that ever happened to the pawn shop.”
“Since when we do let business come before pleasure?” I asked, cocking a brow.
“Since the night I had to scrub the fuckin’ toilets because the old cleaners were stealing shit and I had to fire them,” Gage said bluntly. “Not a fan, Pic. Anyone can suck your dick, but a woman who stays on top of the toilets is a goddamn treasure. I’d protect her from whoever blew up her place on that basis alone.”
I snorted, shaking my head because he was right. Gettin’ my dick sucked on a regular basis wasn’t exactly a challenge, but London was a fuckuva lot more than that.
And not just because she cleaned.
I liked having her under my roof. Sooner or later she’d talk to her insurance agent, maybe look into getting an apartment. To my surprise, I didn’t care for that idea much at all.
“Okay, so we’ll keep an eye out,” I said. “And I’ll keep her out here for the duration. She’s got a couple kids in tow, too—the girl who was at the house tonight and her little cousin. Guess they’ll be sleepin’ upstairs until we get this worked out.”
“Admit it. You hate living in a house that isn’t full of girls screechin’ and fighting over the bathroom, you fuckin’ masochist,” Horse said, evil glee in his eyes. “Em and Kit are gone, so you’re auditioning replacement daughters. Seek professional help, bro. Or at least go for a son this time. Somethin’ wrong with a man so eager to get pussy whipped.”
I rolled my eyes and flipped him off, standing up.
“Okay, we’re good here,” I said, glancing pointedly toward the door. London was waiting for me, which meant fightin’ with Horse wasn’t exactly a priority.
“Painter stays out here tonight,” Gage said. “Don’t want to step on your toes, prez, but you need backup. If that really was the cartel, we can’t leave you uncovered.”
I sighed, because I knew he was right. As sergeant at arms, it was Gage’s job to worry.
“Okay, kid,” I said to Painter. “You take the guest room. Tomorrow you head home, grab some shit. Might be stuck here for a while. If Jessica comes back from California, the hands stay off. Don’t care how convenient it would be. Got me?”
Painter gave a sharp nod, and then the meeting was over. Shitty night, but at least I’d be bedding down with London soon. Not sayin’ I was happy her house had blown up, but I guess there’s always good with the bad. Probably best not to share my theory with her under the circumstances, though.
Women get all touchy and shit sometimes.
LONDON
I woke up in a man’s arms for the second time in twenty-four hours. Reese. His body surrounded mine, and I wore a T-shirt that was far too big for me. Not mine. Why was I here?
Then it came back to me.
My house was gone.
My clothing, my pictures, my books … All of it. Gone. For no good reason. I lay still in the early-morning light, wondering what the next move should be. What I really wanted to do was cry and feel sorry for myself, but I’ve always been practical. With my life, I’ve had to be—no point in wasting time whining when there’s work to be done.
First up, I needed to call Jessica.
I rolled over to grab my phone and felt Reese’s arm tighten on me. He pulled me back into his hips, the press of his morning erection sending tingles radiating up between my legs to my nipples.
“I need to make some phone calls,” I told him softly. He nuzzled the back of my neck and I squirmed, because I couldn’t just lie down and pretend last night hadn’t happened.
He sighed and loosened his grip.
“I’m here, babe,” he said softly, kissing my shoulder. Three little words, but they felt so good. He was here, with me. For once I wasn’t on my own, and while I wasn’t fool enough to think his presence changed anything in my big picture, just waking up in his arms meant more than I could have imagined.
“Thanks,” I whispered. Then I took my phone and pressed my finger to Jessica’s number. Surprisingly, she answered on the first ring, her voice alert, almost strained. Had Melanie called her already?
“Hey, Jess,” I said softly. “I have some bad news for you.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I don’t know how to say this …”
“Just spit it out,” she snapped. I heard a cracking noise and then she coughed suddenly, gasping.
“You all right?” I asked quickly.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice more subdued. “Sorry, just dropped something. What’s going on?”
“The house blew up.”
Silence.
“Excuse me?”
“The house blew up,” I repeated, the words sounding unreal even to me. “I don’t know how or why. Probably a gas leak. I’ll talk to the police later today, but it all burned down. There’s nothing left.”
“Is Melanie all right?” she asked, her voice full of dread. I paused, wondering how she knew about Mellie.
“She got out. They took her to the hospital because she hit her head. I’ll go get her in a bit, but I stayed with her long enough to know she’s going to be just fine. Nothing serious. You should know that her mother—”
