Chapter Sixteen
FIVE DAYS LATER
EM
On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I walked into the upstairs bathroom to find black beard hairs all over the sink. Ugh. Boy cooties.
“I really need to get an apartment,” I muttered.
“No shit.”
I jumped as Skid spoke behind me. I swung around to face him, glaring. God, the man was like a f*cking cat—always sneaking up and freaking me out. I think he got off on it.
I’d been staying with Hunter since he’d liberated me from Cookie’s house, which started out fun. I’d gone back a few times, of course, and still kept most of my stuff there. I couldn’t live at her place long term, though, not if I wanted to have Hunter sleeping with me. Cookie didn’t want me bringing guys home, and the last thing we needed was another confrontation between Deke and my boyfriend. Somewhere Hunter could stay over had become a very high priority.
God, this house was a cesspit.
I’d made excuses for the guys at first. It’s hard to keep up with housework, especially if you’re not used to it. Clutch still couldn’t get around very easily, and they had so much to worry about with all the drama.
Yeah, after five nights here I could officially call bullshit on the excuses. Sure, they had to worry about the cartel. That consisted of keeping their eyes open for anything suspicious (nothing) and bitching (endlessly). I knew Hunter and Skid ran errands for Burke, and I knew that Grass held down a job of some sort … But so far as I could tell, their other primary activity was watching porn.
Oh, did I mention the extensive porn collection?
And I do mean extensive.
Kelsey and I got drunk together Sunday night and she filled me in. She was sleeping with Skid, something I couldn’t quite understand a woman doing voluntarily, but she assured me she was just using him for sex. According to her, the place was a clubhouse in every way but name, seeing as Portland wasn’t an official charter. Unofficially, Hunter was acting as president, with Skid as his VP/sergeant at arms. Grass and Clutch were muscle.
All of them were pigs.
I turned to look at Skid, who stood in the doorway behind me.
“Got any suggestions?” I asked. “I need somewhere cheap that doesn’t smell like feet.”
He sniffed, then gave me a puzzled look.
“It doesn’t smell like feet in here.”
“No, in here it smells like mildew.”
He shook his head, frowning.
“Did Kelsey talk to you?”
“About what?” I asked.
“Her place,” he said. “She’s got a spare room and she’s having trouble making rent. I had to buy her groceries this month. She was going to see if you wanted to move in.”
“She didn’t say anything.”
“I wonder if Hunter told her not to,” he said slowly. “He’s worried she’ll be a bad influence on you. He might’ve mentioned something to her about backing off and leaving you alone. If you ask about the room, I bet she’ll say yes.”
“What the hell is up with you two, anyway?”
“Me and Hunter?”
“No, you and Kelsey.”
“F*ck if I know. When she’s horny, she comes to see me. Sometimes. Pretty sure she has at least one other guy on the side.”
“And you’re cool with that?”
He shrugged.
“I can get laid other ways, too,” he said. “No shortage of p-ssy. But I don’t like seeing her struggle—sharing a place would be a good solution for both of you. You should talk.”
“I will, thanks.”
Huh … That was almost … nice?
Skid nodded and took off down the hallway. Weird guy. I wasn’t nearly as scared of him these days, but I wouldn’t mind seeing less of him. I closed the toilet seat, setting my stuff on it while I grabbed a chunk of toilet paper to wipe down the counter. That’s when my phone started ringing. I glanced at the Caller ID.
Dad.
I swallowed, trying to decide if I should answer. Things were a little awkward between us, although he kept tabs on me through Kit. To say our initial conversation about Hunter hadn’t gone well was an understatement. A big understatement.
Fortunately, nothing new had happened in the whole Reapers/Devil’s Jacks/cartel triangle since the original shootings, but people weren’t exactly breathing easy these days. I think we all assumed it was just a matter of time.
I sighed and grabbed the phone. I didn’t want him worrying about me, and I knew he would if he couldn’t track me down.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, Emmy,” he said. Thankfully, I could tell from the tone of his voice that there wasn’t an emergency. Lately my default assumption was disaster. “I’m just calling to find out if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving. There’s supposed to be a snowstorm tonight, figured I’d check in. You’ll want to drive during daylight tomorrow, if you plan to be here …”
I smiled despite myself. No matter how weird life got, some things about Dad never changed.
“It’s killing you that you’re not here to check the tire pressure on my winter tires, isn’t it?”
He stayed silent for a minute.
“Not gonna answer that,” he said finally. “But since we’re talking vehicles, when’s the last time you changed your oil? I think it’s just a matter of time before that car starts burning it. You should really be thinking about getting something newer.”
“My car is fine, Dad,” I said, feeling a little squishy inside. Sure, he drove me crazy. But I also loved the way he was always watching out for me. I missed him, I realized. I wanted to go home for the holiday.
“I need to talk to Hunter about Thanksgiving,” I said slowly. “We’d discussed cooking something here, with his brothers.”
Silence fell.
“You could bring him to Coeur d’Alene,” Dad said.
I almost dropped the phone.
“Can you repeat that? I think I heard you wrong. Did you just invite Hunter for Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Not to the Armory, of course. I know you’re convinced he’s all innocent and shit, but a lot of the guys don’t buy it. But I’ll let him into the house if you come home.”
I tried to process this.
“Where would he sleep?”
I heard a strangled noise on the other end of the line.
“He could stay in your room with you.”
“Dad?” I asked carefully. “Are you dying?”
“What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?”
“Like, do you have cancer or something? This isn’t you. You’re being … nice.”
“I want my daughter home for f*cking Thanksgiving,” he snapped. “If that means I have to put up with her douchebag boyfriend, I will.”
“He’s my old man, and he’s not a douchebag.”
“Talk to your sister,” he said suddenly, and then Kit was on the phone.
“I think Dad’s about to have a stroke,” she told me, her voice excited, the words tripping out almost too fast to follow. “Seriously. He’s clenching his fists and his face is all red.”
“He just told me Hunter could sleep in my room for Thanksgiving.”
Dead silence.
“That is so f*cking unfair,” she burst out. “You know how many guys I’ve tried to bring home? He never lets any of them stay with us.”
“That’s the problem,” I heard Dad say in the background. “Guys. Plural. I don’t agree with Em’s choice, but at least she made one. You’re just using them up like tissues.”
“Like you should talk?” she demanded. “You’re worse than a f*cking alley cat!”
Great. Once they started, they could go on like this for hours. I hung up, knowing Kit wouldn’t even notice. I’d talk to Hunter after my shower, I decided. I wasn’t quite sure what to think. I wanted to be with my family for the holiday, but I didn’t entirely trust Dad not to shoot Hunter. He’d nearly killed at least two of my boyfriends in the past, and they hadn’t even done anything to piss him off.
I shut the door and locked it, then stripped down and stepped into the shower with a shudder. I’d bleached the hell out of it the first morning I’d stayed there, but whatever lived in there was vigorous and fighting back. Nasty black crap was already creeping in along the seams.
Kelsey, I thought. Talk to Kelsey, see if she has room. No matter how much you love him, you can’t live in a house where the shower is hostile and sentient.
And to think, all this time I’d been afraid of the Devil’s Jacks and their guns—it’d never occurred to me that the real danger was their disgusting, moldy bathroom.
Chemical warfare.
Hopefully Hunter would go to Dad’s house with me. At least there, I knew the bathroom would be cleanish. I’d only been gone from Coeur d’Alene a month, nowhere near enough time for this kind of damage, even if Dad deliberately sprayed the mold with magic mold-food every day.
HUNTER
Em sat on my lap, her legs on either side of my hips, facing me. She was a smart girl—it’s pretty damned hard for a man to say no to a woman when her p-ssy’s snuggling up to his cock. Would’ve been perfect if it weren’t for her clothes. I really needed to steal those, maybe set them on fire …
“So you’ll come with me?” she asked. “I won’t leave without you, but I really want to go. You can even bring Kelsey.”
I snorted.
“Kelsey hates holidays. Says they make her think of kittens vomiting, too much nice family crap.”
Em frowned and cocked her head.
“That makes me sad,” she said softly. “You guys deserved so much better.”
“It’s better now, babe.” I leaned up and kissed her, sucking her lower lip into my mouth. She wiggled against my dick, with predictable results. Would I ever get tired of holding this woman? Couldn’t imagine it happening, that’s for damned sure.
Then she pulled away and I groaned.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, smiling at me eagerly. “Will you come for Thanksgiving?”
“You’re not being particularly subtle,” I told her, raising a brow.
“I’m all about direct communication. What’s the verdict?”
“I need to talk to Burke about it,” I said, considering. “I know it’s about seeing your family, but there could be larger implications. But if Burke’s okay with it, I can’t imagine anything more fun than spending a holiday in the home of the man who wants me dead. Like our own f*ckin’ Hallmark movie, but with live ammo.”
Em squealed, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing tight. This crushed her boobs against my chest, which I approved of completely. Did Hallmark movies have sex scenes?
“You’re the best,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to show you everything. And I promise, I’ll protect you from Dad.”
I burst out laughing.
“I don’t need protection.”
She pulled away and gave me a look.
“Yeah, right,” she muttered. “You’re a big bad biker and everyone is afraid of you. Unfortunately, so are the Reapers, and there’s a whole lot of them all concentrated in one place. We’re going to play it safe the whole time, I promise. This means so much to me, Liam—when will you talk to Burke?”
“He’s supposed to call sometime this evening,” I said, running my hands down her back to cup her ass. “I’ll ask him then.”
“Sounds good,” she murmured as I pulled her up tight into my hips. Then I rolled until she lay flat under me, all soft and open and gorgeous.
“I love seeing you like this,” I said. “Love it when your hair is all over my pillow. I want a picture.”
“What do you mean?”
I reached for my phone, unlocking it and opening the camera app. Then I sat up, straddling her, and held it over her head.
“I want a picture of you like this. Smile for me.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Way to put me on the spot,” she muttered, but she smiled. Then right as I took the shot, she stuck out her tongue.
“You’re a very naughty girl,” I said, frowning at her. “Now smile for real this time or I’m giving you a spanking.”
I snapped another shot as the disposable cell on my bedside table started ringing.
“That’ll be Burke,” I said. I dropped my phone on the covers and reached for the burner. “I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.”
She laughed and nodded. I took the cell and stepped out of the room, answering it in the hallway.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”
“The sky and hard dicks,” Burke said. “What the hell do you think?”
I snorted.
“God, you’re a ray of sunshine in my life.”
“I do my best. We’ve got news,” he said. “Not good news. I guess there’s a guy up in Coeur d’Alene pretending to be a Devil’s Jack. Got a call from a bar owner, says he’s been in a couple times, talking shit about the Reapers, making threats.”
“You’re f*cking kidding me.”
“Nope.”
“Any chance he’s one of ours?” I asked. Shit. I really, really didn’t want to put another brother in the ground.
“He’s not ours,” Burke said. “But he’s sneaky as hell. I guess the Reapers know about him, but they haven’t caught up to him yet. He must’ve been sent by the cartel, kind of like waving a red flag in front of a bull. They’re desperate for us to turn on each other. I think there’s something deeper going on down south than just a territorial expansion. This isn’t their usual M.O.”
“You want me to look into it?” I asked, leaning back against the wall. “I’ve got the perfect excuse. You’ll never guess who called today and invited me to his place for Thanksgiving.”
“Hayes?”
“Got it in one,” I answered. “You think it’s related?”
“Possible,” Burke said. “I can think of several reasons he might do it. He wants his kid back, probably sees inviting you as the best way to get her there. Not only that, you walk right into his house, easy as hell to ambush you. Or I suppose—and this is a hell of a long shot—that it’s possible he’s just being a decent human being, opening his home to his daughter’s old man. If we can open communications, that’d be a real win-win here.”
“So basically I’m bait?” I asked.
“I prefer the word ‘chum.’ ”
“You have no idea how inspiring it is for a man to get a personal pep talk like this from his president. I’m assuming finding this faker is a high priority while I’m there?”
“You got it.”
“And if I find him?”
“I’ll want to talk to him,” Burke said. “If he’s connected to the cartel, we’ll share him with the Reapers. Maybe that’ll convince them we’re for real. After that, accidents happen. Now go tell your girl you’re going home with her for the holiday. Maybe get a special ‘thank you’ blow job. I think you should enjoy your dick while you still can—Reese Hayes is probably planning to cut it off when you get there.”
He hung up on me, and I snorted. Always a joy.
I turned off the phone and opened my bedroom door.
“Hey, babe …”
I froze, taking in the sight of Em kneeling in the center of my bed, staring at me with tearstained eyes. Her hand trembled as she held up my phone. F*ck. Something was very, very wrong.
“I wanted to surprise you,” she said softly. “Put that new picture with my contact info, so you’d see it whenever I call. I went to grab the one you just took.”
Oh, double f*ck. I knew exactly where this was going.
“Em—”
“Don’t you f*cking talk to me!” she screamed suddenly, throwing the phone across the room at me like a missile. I ducked and it hit the wall, faceplate shattering.
Okay. She’d found the pictures I was supposed to erase. Time for damage control.
“Let me explain.”
“I. Said. Don’t. Talk. To. Me.” she said, her voice like ice. That was when it hit me. I’d screwed up bad. Real bad. “You know, I wasn’t even trying to snoop. You took that picture less than five minutes ago, your goddamned phone was still turned on when you dropped it. It was in a f*cking album with my name on it. Christ, Hunter. Do you ever tell the truth? You promised me you’d delete those photos. You promised me. I shouldn’t be afraid to look at something that has my f*cking name written on it!”
Her voice had been rising steadily through the whole little speech, and I winced by the end because she’d gotten so shrill it actually hurt my ears. To my horror, Em climbed out of the bed and started grabbing things, stuffing them into her backpack.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask whether you shared them with the other guys?” she muttered. “Let me guess, did you give them to the whole club, or just the guys here at the house? I know how much you all enjoy your porn. I suppose I should feel honored you felt I could compete.”
“Nobody has ever seen those but me,” I told her, holding up my hands defensively. Shit. I’d had girls mad at me before, but I’d never really cared. Jesus—no wonder women hated me, if I made them feel this way. “I swear to you, Em. I kept them for myself …”
“Like that makes it better?”
She leaned over and grabbed my phone off the floor, stuffing it into her pocket. Then she swung her backpack over her shoulder and came to stand in front of me, arms crossed over her chest protectively.
Em wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Nope, she just stared at my chest coldly.
“Move out of my way,” she said. “I’m leaving. I can’t stand to be around your lying ass right now.”
“We need to talk—”
She held up a hand.
“You will move out of the way,” she said, every word slow and distinct.
“This isn’t over,” I said carefully. “You go and calm down. Then we’ll talk.”
“I can’t think about that right now,” she muttered, pushing through the door. She started toward the stairs, then turned back to look at me. “You’ve lied to me all along. Makes me wonder … What else have you been lying to me about?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing,” I said quietly. Em shrugged.
“I don’t believe you.”
EM
Deke’s bike was parked outside Cookie’s house when I pulled up in the darkness.
Just what I needed.
I punched in the code and crept inside, not wanting to wake her up. It wasn’t that late—only eleven—but she went to bed early because her shop opened at five every morning.
Knowing my luck, Deke would still be up.
I stepped inside, closing the door carefully. No sign of Deke in the living room. He must be sleeping in Silvie’s room. Lucky me. I started down the hallway, but halfway down, Silvie’s door opened, and Cookie stepped out. She froze with a guilty, deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.
“I had a fight with Hunter,” I said quickly. “I don’t want Deke or anyone else to know about it.”
Cookie nodded, then glanced back at Silvie’s door.
“Let’s just say tonight’s a don’t-ask, don’t-tell situation?”
“It’s all about plausible deniability,” I answered, desperate to get away and pretend I hadn’t seen anything. She nodded, then darted down the hall to her own room. I followed her lead, closing my door and locking it behind me. Deke? Ugh. I pulled off my clothes and climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind spinning. It felt like everything was going horribly wrong.
Hunter had lied to me, keeping my pictures.
Cookie and Deke were … doing things I didn’t want to think about.
At least Kit and Dad were still fighting. Not everyone in the world had lost their minds. It would be good to see them tomorrow. I’d leave Portland around ten, and enjoy the holidays Hunter-free. It would give me time to think and decide what I should do about the situation.
I was pretty sure I’d made a terrible mistake. I just wasn’t sure whether that mistake was falling for him in the first place or walking out on him after our fight.