CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“It’s not good enough,” the man whispered in my ear. “I told you to find me something or I’d cut off another piece of her. Did you think I was joking?”
No. I really, really didn’t think he was joking.
I don’t know which grip was tighter—my hand holding the phone or the one holding the steering wheel. Thankfully I’d been driving when he called, which was the only time I’d gotten any privacy since Saturday. Now it was Monday and Reese’s minion, Puck, was following me everywhere in the name of “extra security.” Fortunately, when I’d very politely told Reese that the minivan was off-limits, Puck quickly volunteered to ride his bike instead.
I could’ve cried with relief.
Puck scared the hell out of me. I knew he was young—probably only nineteen or twenty—but he had the eyes of a killer and that scar across his face wasn’t exactly reassuring. For once I was happy to have Painter around, because Puck was also weirdly sexy and I suspected Melanie would’ve fallen for him in a heartbeat if she weren’t already sighing heavily every time she saw Painter.
God, when had he become the lesser evil?
“There’s nothing else for me to find,” I said to the man on the phone, willing him to believe me. “I’ve looked everywhere I can. There’s always a prospect with me, or Reese. Even at work they follow me.”
“Why?” he asked. “Have you given yourself away? If that’s the case, you aren’t useful to me anymore and neither is this little teenage shit. Might as well kill her now.”
Oh God oh God oh God oh …
“No, please,” I whispered. “I’ll figure something out. There has to be a way.”
“One more day,” he said. “Then it’s over. Want to talk to her one more time? This’ll be the last if you don’t get me something I can use.”
“Please …”
“Stop whining. Nobody likes a whiny cunt.”
I heard a rustling sound, as if he’d put his hands over the mic. Then Jessica came on the line, her voice soft and weak.
“Loni?”
“Jess, how are you?”
“It hurts, Loni,” she said. “It hurts all the time. My hand hurts so bad and I have dreams and I want to come home …”
“I’ll get you home,” I promised, although I had absolutely no idea how I’d pull that one off. Maybe I should just shoot Bolt and raid his office. So what if they killed me? All I needed to do was get Jessica free—after that? Whatever.
“I need you to come get me,” she whispered. “I’m so scared, Loni. They hurt me. Last night they …”
She paused, and my mind raced, filling in the blanks.
“That’s enough,” the man said, his voice muffled in the background. The call stopped and I nearly drove into the ditch because I couldn’t stop the tears filling my eyes. Couldn’t see for shit.
I took a long detour heading home, wondering how I’d explain that to Puck, and then deciding I didn’t care what he thought. I’d just tell him I got distracted and didn’t notice I’d gone down the wrong road, or something like that.
He didn’t ask, though.
When we pulled up to Reese’s place, he just parked his bike and got off, following me into the house. Reese sat at the dining room table, flipping through a motorcycle magazine and drinking a beer.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, looking up at me. “Come here, sit on my lap for a while.”
“You need me for anything else tonight?” Puck asked, his voice bored but his gaze focused, taking in everything. That’s what unnerved me about him the most—the fact that if I made even the slightest mistake, he’d catch it.
“You’re free for the night,” Reese said as I came to a stop next to him. He caught me by the waist, lifting me easily to straddle him across the chair. His hands lifted and framed my face, those brilliant blue eyes of his seeming to stare right into my soul.
What did he see there?
“You can talk to me,” Reese said, and my heart stuttered. He knew. He had to know. Why else would he say that? “Whatever it is, if some-thing’s wrong talk to me, babe. It’s the only way I can help you.”
I felt like my face was cracking, but I managed to smile at him.
“What brings this on?”
“One of the girls down at The Line,” he said. “She got herself in some trouble a couple days ago, and instead of talking to us, she decided to sell us out.”
I closed my eyes, trying to force my pulse to slow down. Could he feel it racing under his fingers?
“What’ll happen to her?”
His eyes darkened, and he didn’t answer. I felt his hand slide around and into my hair, fingers combing through it lightly, and then he caught it up, twisting it around his wrist until it just almost hurt. He tugged my head back, exposing my throat. Then he wrapped his other hand around my neck lightly, caressing me.
“You don’t want to know,” he whispered. His hand tightened in my hair painfully and he tilted my head, taking my mouth in a hard kiss. It shouldn’t have turned me on. I was scared of him, scared of the men in San Diego.
Scared of everything.
But his dick was hardening between my legs and I wanted him so bad it hurt. When he let my mouth go and cupped my butt in his hands—lifting me and carrying me back into the bedroom—it never occurred to me to protest.
I wanted him way too much.
All of him.
His smell, his strength, the way he’d thrown himself over me when my house blew up. The love in his eyes when he saw his daughter, and the fact that I’d found two stunning diamond pendants in blue Tiffany boxes next to the letter his wife had written him, right in the top drawer of his dresser.
None of that would ever be mine … But for tonight, I’d take what I could get and pretend my world hadn’t ended.
“What did you find for me today?”
That voice. It haunted my dreams. I think it would’ve been easier if he yelled at me, or even if I sensed that he enjoyed hurting Jessica. But we could’ve been talking about the weather or what I’d eaten for lunch. The guy was like an exterminator, and I could tell he’d shoot Jessica and then go home and put up his feet, maybe watch a TV show.
We weren’t even human to him.
I drove on slowly, Puck following me on his bike, wondering if I should just turn out along the highway and head for the high bridge. Then I’d drive off the side. End of story. Suddenly I heard the bloop of a police siren, then caught the flash of blue lights in my rearview mirror. At first I couldn’t tell if they were after me or Puck.
Then he pulled over and the cop stopped behind him. Thank God for that—no way I could deal with the police and this phone call at the same time. Puck might’ve just saved Jessica’s life by distracting the cop for me, I realized. Was her existence really hanging by a thread that thin? Yes, it probably was. Sweat broke out on my forehead.
“London? I’m waiting.”
Catching the phone between my head and shoulders, I reached up to swipe at the moisture with the back of my hand.
“I don’t have anything,” I admitted. “Reese didn’t want me cleaning today, so I didn’t even make it inside. He said they were shutting things down. Security situation. Same excuse he gave for having someone follow me around. I think he knows what’s going on—”
“Who’s following you?” the man asked, his voice casually curious.
“A prospect named Puck,” I said. “He’s with the Silver Bastards. He’s not following me right now, though. The cops just pulled him over and I’m still driving.”
“Interesting. Why not a Reapers prospect?”
“How should I know? Maybe they’re watching the other girlfriends and old ladies. Things are really tense right now. I talked to Marie this morning and she said that even Maggs had someone with her, and she’s not part of the club anymore.”
“So why would you think they know about you?” he asked. “All the women are under guard. Things are tense, and you don’t even know why. Unless Hayes has been talking to you?”
I shook my head, then realized he wouldn’t be able to see it.
“No, he doesn’t talk about anything important. Not about the club or business or anything. He said a girl at The Line sold them out, but I don’t know the details.”
It was his turn to be silent.
“He give the girl’s name?”
“No,” I whispered.
“So, you’re on your own right now?”
“Yes.”
“Good, I’ve got a new job for you. Do you have a gun?”
“Why on earth would I have a gun?”
“This afternoon you’re going to get one,” he said slowly. “And tonight you’re going to kill Reese Hayes. If you do that for me, I’ll let Jessica go.”
The van swerved. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to the side of the road, wondering if he’d actually said what I thought he said.
No.
Not possible.
“I can’t kill him. I can’t kill anyone,” I babbled. “I don’t even know where I could get a gun—I don’t know how to use one.”
“You have all afternoon,” the man told me, his voice calm and patient. “I’m going to give you an address. You’ll go to your bank and pull out six hundred dollars. Then set your GPS for that address and follow it out there. Someone will meet you, and you’ll buy the gun he offers. You won’t discuss me with him and he won’t say anything to you. If you try to say something, he’ll leave without giving you the gun and Jessica will die. Are we clear?”
My tongue wouldn’t work. I couldn’t kill Reese—I didn’t kill people. Real people didn’t have things like this happen to them.
This couldn’t be happening.
“London, are you paying attention?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough. Maybe you need some encouragement.”
The phone pinged, and suddenly a video request came through. I stared at it for a second, then closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and hit accept.
Screams filled the air.
Jessica faced me on the screen. A large, muscular hand held her by the hair, which gave me a nasty sense of déjà vu because Reese had held my hair almost exactly the same way last night. Jess wasn’t sitting in anyone’s lap, though.
A second hand flashed through the air, hitting her so hard that she ripped free of her captor and slammed to the ground with a sickening thunk, her head literally bouncing from the impact against the concrete floor. Someone started laughing. The man who’d been holding her opened his fingers, chunks of her hair drifting down across her body. I clutched my side, my vision going dark, and for long seconds I wondered if I’d lose consciousness.
“Jess?” I finally managed to whisper. She didn’t respond. A man kicked her in the stomach, and then I heard some muffled Spanish in the background. Her body jerked, quivering for about ten seconds before falling still again.
Seizure. She used to get them as a child, but I hadn’t seen one in years.
“You need to take her to a hospital. That kind of head trauma can damage the shunt. She’ll die. You can’t let her die!”
The video died, transitioning back to audio only. I raised the phone slowly to my ear, hand shaking so bad I almost dropped it.
“After you kill Hayes, we’ll dump her in front of a hospital,” the man said. “I’ll need proof. Homicide report will do nicely. Call nine one one yourself if you want things to move faster, I have people monitoring the police scanners up there. They’ll tell me when it happens.”
I swallowed. I couldn’t imagine killing anyone, let alone Reese.
But Jessica was dying—hitting the floor that hard would be bad for anyone. But with the shunt her risk was so much higher. One slip, one tear, one tiny blockage … The fluid would start building in her skull and it wouldn’t stop until it squeezed the life out of her brain completely.
It might be happening already—I’d seen the seizure.
I’d do it. I’d shoot Reese, then I’d call the police. Maybe I’d wait for them to get there, or maybe I’d try to get away first. Jessica would need someone to take care of her if they did another surgery …
Pulling up the edge of my shirt, I wiped my face hard to get rid of the tears rolling down my cheeks. Then I grabbed the mirror, tipping it down so I could see how I looked. Red eyes. Nothing I could do about that, and it wasn’t like crying was illegal. I put the van into reverse, then did a three-point turn across the road. I had close to four thousand dollars in the bank. I’d need all of it in cash, if by some miracle I survived the evening, because one thing was for sure.
If the Reapers caught me, I was a dead woman.
When I passed by Puck and the cops, they had him lying face-down on the side of the road, hands behind his back. A second cruiser was just pulling up. Perfect—hopefully it would give me enough time to do what I had to do.
Two hours later I owned a gun.
The man who’d sold it to me wasn’t a gun dealer—he was just a guy in a car with a gun. I met him alone in a field halfway to Bay-view, which I found using the GPS on the smart phone they’d so helpfully provided me. I paid him the money and he’d handed me the weapon, a box of ammunition, and what appeared to be an extra bullet holder. I stared down at them blankly, wondering how the hell I’d even load a gun, let alone shoot it.
My confusion had to be obvious, because he reached for the weapon again and when I handed it over, he demonstrated how to pop another bullet holder out of the gun’s handle like magic. He also showed me how the bullets could be taken out, then had me put them back in again.
The he showed me how to shoot it.
It was surprisingly easy. All I had to do was unhook the little safety switch, pull the trigger, and BOOM. The shell casing popped out and then it was ready to go again. My hand hurt a little after the third shot, but the gun didn’t really have much of a kick or anything. After that, the man got in his car and left without saying goodbye … or anything else. I’d bought a gun and learned how to use it all without either of us talking. Surreal. F*cked up. I could almost pretend it’d been a dream if it wasn’t for the extra weight in my purse.
So. Now I had a gun. I just had to stop off and get some groceries before killing Reese. Oh, and maybe some gas.
You can do this, I told myself. Just take it one step at a time.
I made it halfway back to town before reality hit me. Had I lost my f*cking mind?
Killing Reese wasn’t an option.
Letting Jessica die wasn’t an option, either. There had to be a solution. That’s when it hit me—Nate. I’d call Nate. If the kidnappers wanted a police report, Nate could make that happen. I supposed I’d probably end up in jail, but that was the least of my concerns at this point. Jail was nothing to me. Hell, it’d be a vacation compared to this.
I grabbed my phone and found his number.
“Get tired of f*cking the biker?”
Did he have to be nasty about everything? How had I ever been attracted to this a*shole?
“Nate, I really need to talk to you,” I was working hard to keep my voice even. “It’s an emergency.”
Silence, and then when I’d almost started to wonder if he’d hung up on me, he spoke again.
“What is it?”
“I need to talk to you in person. It’s … complicated.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m just coming up on Hayden,” I told him.
“I’m not too far away. Meet me at the cafe across from the flooring place, down on Government Way.”
“Thank you, Nate.”
“Don’t thank me yet. God knows if I’ll help you. Right now I’m tempted to tell you to f*ck off.”
I swallowed my pride.
“Thanks for hearing me out. You’re the only person I know who has the power to change the situation I’m in.”
God, I hated sucking up.
“I’ll listen,” he said after a pause. “No promises.”
“Just having you hear me out means the world to me.”
I ended the call, leaned out my window, and threw up. Remember, you need him, my brain reminded me. Play nice.
The restaurant wasn’t too busy, thank God. Nate was already waiting for me, sitting in a booth in the back corner. I smiled at him weakly as I walked over. My purse felt too heavy, the strange, hateful weight of the gun throwing my whole world off balance.
So wrong.
“You look like shit,” he said as I slid into the seat. “Your eyes are all red and puffy, like you’ve been crying. Lover boy not as wonderful as you thought?”
I shook my head—now wasn’t the time to fight or defend myself. If Nate found a way to help me, he could say whatever the hell he wanted.
“I have a big problem,” I replied slowly, wondering just how exactly I was supposed to explain all this to him.
“Coffee?” a waitress asked, smiling down at Nate. He flashed her a flirty grin, reminding me so much of the night I’d met him that it might’ve hurt, if I still had the capacity to experience more pain. Lucky me—I’d already topped up on suffering for the day.
“Decaf,” he said. “London?”
“Just water, please.”
She nodded, although I could see a look in her eyes that said she didn’t appreciate me taking up table space if I wasn’t going to order anything.
Shitty to be her.
“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out,” I told him. “There are some bad guys down in California who have Jessica, and they’re going to kill her unless I commit a murder for them.”
I expected to startle him, maybe have him question whether I’d lost my mind. Instead he just smiled.
“Yeah, I know.”
It felt like someone had hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat. Guess I could still feel more pain after all.
“What?” I whispered.
“I know all about it,” he said casually. The waitress came back and handed him his coffee.
“You want anything with that?” she asked.
“Slice of pecan pie would be great,” he said, winking at her. “With a scoop of ice cream?”
“You got it,” she said, glancing over at me again. “Hey, are you sick? You don’t look so good.”
I managed to shake my head.
“No,” I said, my voice hoarse and weak. “I’m fine. I just … need to talk with the deputy, okay? Can you leave us?”
She sniffed, then strutted off, smacking her little order pad down on the counter as she passed into the back.
“Now you pissed her off,” Nate said casually. “If she spits in my pie, I’m making you pay for it. In fact, I think I’ll let you pay for everything anyway. So was that all?”
“Was what all?”
“Was that all you wanted to talk about? If that’s it, you should probably get going. Sounds like you got your work cut out for you. Good luck with that.”
“You’re a police officer,” I said, still stunned. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he replied, taking another sip of his coffee. “Well, I guess I’m a little bored right now, but I love pie. I should eat up, sounds like it’ll be a long night. Crime scene to process and all that.”
“I can’t believe you—what’s wrong here? Is this some kind of joke to you?”
Nate smiled, so much hatred in his eyes that it scared me. Had I ever known him at all?
“No, Loni, this isn’t a joke. You’ve got a job to do, and if you want that little cunt Jessica to survive, sounds like you better stop dickin’ around and get it done. Oh, now don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I want her dead—kid’s f*ckin’ great in the sack. Wouldn’t mind another run at her.”
I reeled. My brain seemed to shut down, incapable of accepting any new data.
“You were sleeping with Jessica?”
He rolled his eyes.
“God, you’re stupid,” he muttered. “Someone had to give her enough money to get down to Cali when you had your little fight. This whole thing was a lot of work to set up, but I have to admit that screwing her tight little ass was the fun part. Christ, you didn’t actually think I was into you, did you? You’re too old, used up … And now it’s time for you to go and take care of your business. Don’t bother trying to call the cops before it’s done, either. Nobody’s going to help you.”
Somewhere in the middle of his little speech, I shut down. I could still see everything, hear everything … but it all felt distant and unreal.
“You’re an evil person,” I whispered.
“I’m a man with a goal,” Nate replied, his voice serious and his eyes hard—nothing like the person I thought I’d known. He leaned forward, his words precise and clipped. “I know what I want, and I’m willing to do anything to get it. I f*cked your girl and convinced her to go to San Diego, Loni. I rigged your house to blow so Hayes would take you in. Now you’re right where I want you, and you’ll f*cking dance because I told you to. No more questions.”
“Here’s that pie,” the waitress said, walking toward us.
“Thanks, hon,” Nate replied with a smile. She leaned in to him just a little, her body language making it clear she had more than pie to offer.
They ignored me when I pushed up and out of my seat, trying not to stumble as I walked out of the restaurant and back to my van. I sat in the driver’s seat for several minutes, trying to process what the hell had just happened. But some things don’t make sense no matter how you look at them, so I turned my key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, because I still needed to hit the grocery store. I had a list of things to buy and I was running out of time to get dinner on the table.
Why was I fixing dinner? I don’t know.
What I do know is that by the time I paid for the food, my side hurt where my purse kept thwacking me as I walked—the gun threw it off balance, I guess. I ignored the small pain as I drove home to cook dinner for Reese. Not like killing a man is less awful if you’ve fed him first, but what else was I supposed to do for the rest of the afternoon?
God damn Nate Evans to hell, and God damn me for falling for his shit. God damn the men holding Jessica, too. If there was any justice in the universe, Amber was burning in a fiery pit surrounded by demons right at this minute. I hated all of them.
Mostly, though, I hated me.
REESE
“Why bother playing it through? She’s got a gun in there and she’s gonna shoot you with it. Not many ways to spin that and get a happy ending,” Puck said, holding my gaze steadily. “I spent almost two hours gettin’ harassed on the side of the f*cking road while she plotted your death. How much more proof do you need?”
The kid had balls, talking to me like that. Still, he’d been thrown into deep shit, headfirst, and he’d rolled with it and done his job. Nobody wants to be the one telling an MC president that his woman’s fixin’ to kill him. The Silver Bastards prospect had showed me respect without f*cking around.
I still hated him for what he’d discovered.
“Hate to say it ’cause I like London, but I’m with Puck on this one,” Gage said. He sat back in an old office chair I’d hauled down to my shop a few years ago. Right now it was positioned in front of a long, low table with two monitors set on top of it. They each split into four screens, playing a live feed of different rooms in my house. Ruger had a gift for electronics, no question.
I’d have to make sure he didn’t forget to take any of those little f*ckers out after this was all over, too. Last I needed were eyes on what went on in there on a regular basis. Been damned f*ckin’ hard to act normal this week, knowing the brothers were watching everything I did.
Make that almost everything. I didn’t let them put anything in the bedroom, because f*ck that shit.
We’d spent a good part of the afternoon down here—Gage, me, Ruger, Horse, Painter, Bam Bam, and Duck. Bolt was off at Maggs’s place. Not sure what drama was goin’ down with those two. Hopefully I’d never find out. Couldn’t even manage my own woman, didn’t need to worry about his.
“Christ,” I said, watching London bustling around the kitchen on the monitor and sighing. I’d fallen for her, I realized. Not just f*cking her, but her. Comin’ home to her felt good, and havin’ her with me at the party? Hadn’t felt like that since Heather was alive.
I’d never hated the cartel more than I did in that instant.
We might not have the full story here, but didn’t take a genius to see they were using Jessica to manipulate her. Was that an excuse? No. London should’ve come to me, let the club handle things.
“She’s got no f*ckin’ clue what she got herself into here,” I muttered. Bam grunted.
“That’s how they work. Nobody sets out to get controlled and used by a f*ckin’ cartel. They’re like parasites, workin’ their way in and then taking over until you can’t pull them out without killing the host. Lost cause at this point, Pic. She’s made her choice and it wasn’t you. Those weren’t blanks I pulled out of her purse—so far as she knows, that gun is still loaded and she’s obviously plannin’ to use it.”
I sighed, torn between wishing he wasn’t so damn blunt and thankful my brothers weren’t afraid to give it to me straight.
“So why are we still waiting?” Gage asked. “We go in and find out what’s going on—she won’t be able to hold out on us long. We can make a decision about what to do with her after that.”
“Because he’s hoping she’ll change her mind,” Duck muttered. He sat on a shop stool, eyeing all of us cynically. “F*ckin’ p-ssy thinks that maybe true love will conquer all, and then she’ll climb onto his bike and they’ll ride away into the sky on a rainbow while we all throw rose petals at them.”
Puck snorted, quickly turning it into a cough.
“Just ’cause you’re old doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that,” I told Duck, my voice like ice. He shrugged.
“Call it like I see it,” he said. “Whatever you do, let’s do it soon. If you want it to go all the way to the end, that’s fine with me. Just get moving because I’m hungry. Whether she tries to shoot you or not, that food she’s cookin’ will still taste good.”
“Jesus, Duck,” Painter muttered. Then he caught my eye. “If this is really goin’ down, I should grab Melanie. She’s upstairs, and I don’t know what London’s planning to do about her witnessing things. We don’t need her seein’ this shit. No more collateral damage than necessary, right boss?”
“Go get her,” I said. “Take her to dinner and a movie, or some such. Make it a date. That’ll be a good alibi for both of you if anything happens. I’ll keep you posted and if things go to hell you can dump her with one of the girls, sound good?”
“Yeah,” Painter said. “I’ll take her out and then tuck her in safe once you give the all clear. Good luck, Pic. Hope it works out okay.”
He leaned over and gave me a rough hug. I slapped his back, and the rest of us settled in to watch as he drove his bike around the back side of the hill, pulling into the driveway like he’d come directly from town.
“So, you find anything interesting in her purse besides that gun?” I asked Bam.
“Well, there’s the phone they’ve been usin’ to talk to her, but that’s nothing new.”
“Still f*ckin’ pissed about that,” Ruger muttered. “Shouldn’t be so hard to crack the bastard, but still haven’t been able to tap it. Ninjas or something.”
Despite everything, I had to smile. Ruger wasn’t used to being beaten by technology.
“Finally met your match,” Duck grunted, his voice satisfied. “I keep tellin’ you, we can’t just count on electronic shit to cover us. Nothing like human intel combined with real firepower. Beats one of your little bugs any time.”
“Without my bugs, we’d have no idea what we’re walking into,” Ruger said. Duck rolled his eyes.
“You still got no idea,” he muttered. “We know she’s got a gun somewhere and we’re pretty sure she’s planning to shoot Pic. Has somethin’ to do with that kid of hers. Hard to know more without hearin’ both sides of the conversation, but it doesn’t really matter. We haven’t learned one damn thing about the cartel that’s new or useful in all of this, and I’ll bet she can’t tell us shit, either. This is the sideshow—the main event’s gonna be in Cali, not here.”
“We know they want Pic dead,” Ruger said.
“Yeah, ’cause that’s a big f*ckin’ surprise,” Horse said. “And here I thought they loved him, up to this point. Who knew?”
“Dick.”
“A*shole.”
“Christ, you’re like two-year-olds,” I muttered, glaring at him and Ruger. “You need a f*ckin’ time-out?”
“Painter’s in,” Gage said quietly. We watched on the tiny screens as he went upstairs to talk to Melanie, who apparently needed some time to get ready. This wasn’t a huge surprise to me, seeing as I raised two daughters. Painter went down to the kitchen and chatted up London while Mel was primping, then guided her gently out of the house to his bike.
“I think Painter’s got a little crush,” Horse said. “Isn’t that sweet? We should all congratulate him on that, make real sure he knows we’re pullin’ for him. He’ll love that.”
Puck snorted again.
“Shut the f*ck up, prospect,” Duck said. “No respect.”
“I’ll take that as my cue,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Horse? You come with me, along with Puck and Bam. Ruger, I want you keepin’ an eye on things until we finish with her. Then get your ass down to the house and tear it all down. Tonight. No more f*ckin’ cameras in my shit. And I want everyone ready to leave for Portland by midnight, got me? No point in makin’ things easy for the bastards if they’re spying on us.”
“You got it,” Ruger said. “Sooner we get this done the better. Make our move before someone in the Devil’s Jacks decides they don’t want to play nice with the rest of us.”
“Unlikely. They’re f*cked,” I said. “So are we, come to think of it. This is it, brothers—we either smack these cartel cocksuckers back now or we get ready to start followin’ their orders. Not a whole lot of ground in between.”
For once, neither Horse nor Ruger had a joke.
“Ready for a beer?” London asked brightly as she opened the door for me. I studied her face for a hint of something—guilt, evasion … Hell, even hostility.
Nothing. She was like a pretty, blank blow-up doll going through the motions. Completely checked out.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” I said, reaching out and catching the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn’t respond, which wasn’t exactly a surprise under the circumstances.
“I’ve got chili cooking, and some corn bread,” she told me when I let her go. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the dining room? Food’ll be ready soon, I’ll bring it out to you.”
As she walked me toward the table, I decided there’d never been a more incompetent assassin in history. I hadn’t really believed she was deliberately working with the cartel from the start, but now I had proof. Nobody who knew what they were doing would be this stupid about it.
She’d set a magazine out for me in front of the chair at the head of the table. Facing away from the kitchen—wasn’t that convenient? That way she could just walk up to me and shoot me in the head.
“I’ll just check on the corn bread,” she said without meeting my eyes. I watched as she drifted away. F*ck. Guess it’d been too good to be true.
Sorry, baby, Heather whispered.
Yeah, whatever.
I grabbed my magazine and walked around to the far side of the table. Knowing my luck, she’d ditch the gun and go after me with a rolling pin. Never turn your back on a woman with a weapon—I’d learned that from Heather. Come to think of it, she’d tried to kill me at least three times over the course of our marriage … ’Course, only one of those was serious.
Ten minutes later London came back into the dining room, something heavy pulling down one side of her sweater. Christ, but she was clueless. It would’ve been funny, but pretty f*ckin’ hard to laugh when the woman you love tries to kill you.
Love?
Now that was probably takin’ it a bit far, I mused. But whatever I felt for her, it was a step up from lust. Pisser, because that was a gun in her pocket, and from the determined look on her face she was definitely planning to use it against me. I decided to throw a Hail Mary anyway.
“Something you want to talk about?” I asked her. Her mouth twisted as she bit her lip, clearly startled to find me in a different place than where she’d left me. Yeah, ’cause I always made it as easy as possible for people to kill me. I’m a giver that way.
Last chance, London.
“No,” she said quietly, sticking her hand down into the pocket with the gun. She caught me watching, and her face actually turned white.
“Babe, you look like you could use a day off,” I told her, wondering if there was a way to get through to her. Couldn’t decide how I felt about that … Duck had been right. I wanted things to end happy, for her to fall into my arms and let me take over and fix everything. But I was also f*ckin’ pissed, because I could no longer deny that this woman truly meant to kill me. Hard not to take that personally. “Have you considered hitting the spa? Maybe get a massage?”
“That costs too much,” she said automatically. I frowned at her, wondering how such a smart person could be so stupid. Talk to me before it’s too late.
“I wasn’t suggesting that you pay for it.”
“I don’t want your money—”
“Yeah, I know, you’re totally independent and you like it that way. Blah, blah. Just let me do something for you, for once.”
She looked like she might throw up, and then her eyes started turning red. Tears. London knew what she was about to do was wrong, and she knew she didn’t want to do it … yet it still didn’t occur to her to reach out for help. I got that she had to protect Jessica—I’d do the same for Em or Kit. I even got that she was confused and frightened. But what really sucked in this situation was that she didn’t trust me to save her.
Had it been anything but sex for her?
No. Time to face reality. I was just a booty call to her, proving once and for all that karma’s one hell of a bitch. And so was London.
F*ck.
“The food won’t be ready for another ten minutes. You look sort of tense. Want a neck rub?” She started to walk around the table toward me, clearly planning to blow out my brains. Now I felt a wave of fury hit. How dare this cunt use me for sex and then try to shoot me in my own home? I’d have done anything to help her, but she couldn’t even bother asking.
“I think you should stay back.” Otherwise I might strangle you.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’d hate to make it too easy for you, sweetheart.”
She smiled weakly. I wanted to slap the smile right off her lying face.
“I don’t understand.”
Yeah. You understand. And now you’ll understand what it means to be afraid.
“I’m assuming you’re planning to shoot me in the back of the head,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm. “That’s a bad idea. You shoot that close, you’ll be all covered in blood spatter. Means you’ll risk tracking more evidence out of the house or taking time to clean up. Either way, complicates things.”
That clear enough for you, bitch?
She pulled out the gun slowly, raising it carefully to aim at my head. Little idiot. A gun like that wasn’t exactly a sniper’s weapon. Even at this close range, she should be going for the biggest target—my chest.
“Go ahead, do it,” I said, smirking at her. I wanted to scare her. Hurt her. Make her pay for not trusting me … “Show me what you’re made of.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and those tears building in her eyes started spilling out, running down her cheeks. Behind her I saw Horse step up quietly, waiting. Puck and Bam Bam would be in the kitchen, and I knew they’d do whatever I needed, up to and including disposing of London’s body for me. “You’ll never know how much I wish this weren’t happening.”
“Then don’t do it,” I told her, catching and holding her gaze because I’m a f*cking fool. Even now I’d forgive her if she just opened her mouth and told me what was going on. Trusted me. “Whatever it is, we can work through it. I’ll help you.”
“You can’t …”
I sighed, because that was it. Over. Goddamn waste, tryin’ to connect with a woman. Heather had been one in a million—I’d already had my time.
F*ck it.
I gave Horse a tip of my chin, letting him know wordlessly that I’d had enough of this shit. London would have to pay for what she’d done, which was just too f*ckin’ bad. That’s what you get for tryin’ to kill the man you’re sleepin’ with.
“It’s over, babe,” Horse said. I saw shock all over her face, but I had to admit, the bitch had balls, because she pulled the damn trigger.
I sighed again as Horse reached around the woman I’d fallen for, grabbing her wrist and squeezing hard as he threw her down on the table face-first. London dropped the gun, crying openly. I stood and strolled over to her, dropping down on my haunches to study her. Her eyes caught mine, expression full of pain and despair.
Appropriate, because she was well and truly f*cked.
“You’d really benefit from one of the handgun classes down at the gun shop,” I told her quietly. “Learn all kinds of good stuff there. For instance, they’d teach you to check and make sure nobody’s tampered with your weapon when it’s out of your control. They’d also teach you to check and make sure it’s loaded.”
She closed her eyes and bit her lip.
I’m a sick bastard, because the sight of her laid out on that table, held down and crying? That should’ve bothered me. It turned me on, though. Even now I wanted to f*ck her.
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. Horse shot me a glance, and I considered the question.
“Haven’t decided yet,” I finally admitted. “First we’re going to get information from you. I’d suggest you cooperate, because otherwise we’ll have to convince you, and the fact that you’ve been in my bed isn’t going to help you out of this.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. The life had gone out of her completely … But just when I wondered if she’d roll over and die, she opened them again, forcing herself to reengage.
“You need to know something,” she said quietly.
“Yeah?” I asked, waiting for her to start going on about love or some other bullshit, trying to save her ass.
“They have Jessica.”
“Yeah, we kind of figured that out,” I told her, my voice dry. “Forgive me if I don’t give a shit. I don’t care why a person tries to kill me. I’m all about the end result.”
“Jessica is going to die if she doesn’t get help,” she said, ignoring my sarcasm. “Like, help in the next twenty-four hours. She’s got a shunt, Reese. Born with hydrocephalus.”
“The f*ck?” Horse asked, frowning at me.
“Water on her brain,” London said. “Her cerebrospinal fluid doesn’t drain right, which means she has a little tube running down from her skull through her neck to drain the fluid. If that tube gets blocked or infected, she’s dead. Head trauma is particularly dangerous for people with shunts—I watched them throw her down. Her head hit the concrete and then she had a seizure. I know I messed up, and it was wrong to try to shoot you, Reese. But please—if you have any mercy at all—please try to find a way to help her. It’s over for me and I’m fine with that, but you have children. You’d do anything to keep them alive, wouldn’t you? Please …”
With that she seemed to fold in on herself. I glanced at Horse.
“You know about this?” he asked.
“Knew the kid had medical issues, not the details,” I said slowly. “Bills came up on the background check. This shunt shit is news, though. F*ck, London—why the hell didn’t you tell me she had a tube in her head?”
“Jessica doesn’t like people to know,” she whispered, her voice miserable. “She says it makes her feel like a freak, so we don’t talk about it.”
“None of this matters,” Puck said, stepping into the room.
“How do you figure?”
“It’s over for your girlfriend. We all know it—sucks for the kid, but there’s nothing we can do for her. You can’t let her get to you.”
“You’re a cold f*cker, aren’t you?” Horse asked. Puck shrugged.
“Practical. It is what it is. You can’t let the woman who tried to kill the president of the Reapers MC get away with it.”
Horse and I exchanged quick looks. London stayed silent.
“Let’s get her out of here,” Horse said finally. “Figure out what to do with her back at the Armory—we don’t even know how useful she might be to us yet. Burn one bridge at a time, brother.”