Reaper's Stand

CHAPTER SIXTEEN


By the time we hit Portland, I was exhausted but still absolutely determined to do whatever I could to help the club—not only were they my best hope for saving Jessica, they were also my best shot at some sort of revenge for what those cartel f*ckers had done to my life.

I needed sleep first, though. In a big way.

The short rides I’d taken with Reese hadn’t come close to preparing me for this. My ass had started to hurt, growing slowly worse until finally it went numb. Even if I hadn’t been sleep-deprived the trip would’ve killed me. Just to make things more pleasant, not one of the fifteen men riding with us would talk to me, or even look me in the eye.

Good times.

When we finally pulled down a narrow alley into a residential neighborhood, I didn’t quite register that the ride was over. We stopped in front of a great big old carriage house with huge wooden sliding doors on the back. They opened slowly and the men rolled their bikes in, leaving just enough room on one side for the battered gray cargo van that had trailed us from Coeur d’Alene. They had a prospect driving it, but I had no idea what was in the back.

No way I’d be asking, either.

I’d learned my lesson about questions.

The heavy doors slid shut behind us, blocking out the light and sound. Some seriously solid walls in this place. As my vision adjusted, I looked around in the gloom to find Hunter, Em’s boyfriend, watching the activities with a proprietary air.

His gaze caught on me standing next to Reese, and he strolled over to join us.

“What’s the story there, Pic?” he asked quietly, ignoring me. “Not a trip for women.”

Reese shook his head, face grim.

“We had an unpleasant incident yesterday,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about it later, but the quick and dirty is she tried to kill me. Cartel was behind it.”

Hunter’s face hardened.

“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “We were all hopin’ it would work out.”

“Shit happens,” Pic said. “F*ckers have her cousin—she did it to save the kid’s life.”

“Sounds like an interesting story,” Hunter said, his jaw tightening. “So she’s a prisoner?”

Reese nodded sharply.

“Haven’t decided what to do with her yet, but figure the Portland prospects can babysit her just as easy as the Coeur d’Alene ones. Didn’t want to leave her behind. We haven’t had time to make any decisions, you know how that goes.”

“I got a strong room we can put her in,” Hunter said.

“We’ll need that for someone else.”

That caught my attention, and I glanced back at the van. Had they hauled Nate across the state, too?

“How about the storage room upstairs?” Hunter asked. “It’s not as secure, but the window’s high enough she won’t be able to climb out and she’ll have to pass through the chapel to leave the building. Should be safe enough for the afternoon.”

“Sounds good,” Reese answered. He gave me a nudge and I followed Hunter upstairs through a big, open space with a broad wooden table and then down a hallway to the storage room.

“Don’t touch anything,” he told me, his voice grim. “You wouldn’t wanna learn what happens if you break something. And if you find something in here you can use as a weapon, don’t. This is my place, and I don’t give a damn how much Pic likes f*ckin’ you. You pull any shit, you’re dead.”

I nodded, studying the room after he closed the door behind me. Dusty boxes lined three of the four walls. The last wall had a garage sale couch pushed up against it, and above the couch was an old leaded-glass window. I climbed onto the cushions and looked out to find a fenced backyard hidden behind the carriage house. The house attached to the yard was two stories, with a high porch off the back. It looked to have been built about a hundred years ago—obviously one of those not-quite-Victorians littering the older neighborhoods in Portland.

Must be Hunter and Em’s place, I realized. They probably lived in the house while his club used the carriage house out back as a base of operations. Not a bad setup, all things considered.

I could see a barbecue pit in the center of the grass, with several canvas folding chairs circling it. There wasn’t much open space, though. The yard was essentially a jungle—just a mass of overgrown shrubs surrounded by a circle of mature trees providing complete privacy, despite the fact that I knew there had to be buildings on either side of us. Nobody would be able to see my window, that was for sure.

Good thing I wasn’t trying to catch any attention, or escape.

I wondered how long I’d be stuck here. Considering I hadn’t really slept in nearly twenty-four hours, being locked up long enough for a nap sounded pretty good. I flopped down on the couch and closed my eyes.


Bliss.

I don’t know how long I’d been out when the sound of a car back-firing woke me. I took a minute to orient myself, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and wiping off what felt suspiciously like a trail of drool.

Sexy.

The light had changed—now it streamed through the window much more brightly. I rose to my knees and looked down through the leaded glass to find Em sunning herself on a white blanket in the center of the lawn. She wore a bright red bikini that showed off a very small, very cute baby bump, and one arm had been thrown over her eyes.

The girl was obviously sound asleep. Early pregnancy. I hadn’t had children myself, but I’d seen enough of my friends go through it to learn that sometimes naps weren’t optional. Such a pretty girl.

God, I hoped I got my own pretty girl back, safe and sound.

Reese was a lucky man, because while I hadn’t met his other daughter yet, Em was a treasure for sure. He’d done a great job with her despite losing his wife so tragically. As I watched, Em shifted restlessly and rolled to the side, dropping her arm down to clutch her stomach. Her face twisted, but she didn’t seem to wake up.

Oh, f*ck.

Something was very, very wrong here …

Bright red blood covered the blanket where she’d been lying—blood that seemed to be coming from between her legs. She must not be asleep, but unconscious. Blood smeared the backs of her thighs. Adrenaline hit, and I ran for the door, jerking at the knob desperately. Nothing. I pounded on it, yelling for someone to come and get me.

Nobody responded.

The walls were old and thick, built by hand to last.

ShitShitShitShitShit! Em might be dying out there, and obviously nobody could see it but me. I had to do something.

Running back to the window, I climbed up onto the couch and peered through the glass, trying to figure out how to get down to her. Nothing really jumped out at me, but maybe I’d be able to figure something out if I broke out the glass. I found an old, broken stool propped against a pile of boxes and grabbed it, shoving the legs through the glass. It shattered easily enough, and after three more blows I managed to knock the leading out, too.

Pulling off my leather jacket, I laid it down across the windowsill to protect my hands from glass shards, then leaned out to take a good look around. In the movie version of my life, this was where I’d find a convenient tree branch, or maybe an old trellis to serve as a ladder.

Nada.

I did see a great big shrub right below the window, though. Maybe if I climbed out I could lower myself to shorten the fall, then jump into the bushes to cushion myself? A quick glance at Em showed the pool of blood spreading slowly but steadily.

Shrubbery it was, then.

I climbed out and caught the sill with my hands. That’s when the first thing went wrong, because instead of lowering myself down carefully, I fell off the ledge with a thump. The second thing to go wrong was the shrub itself, which had seemed rather lush and cushiony from the window.

Not so much.

I’d fallen into a forest of pointy branches, cutting through me like a thousand tiny, sharpened stakes. My right arm screamed in agony, and I looked down to see a quarter inch stick passing right through the fleshy part of my forearm. My vision blackened, and I took a couple of deep breaths, willing myself to hold it together.

Em needed me.

Painfully, I pulled my arm off the stick, ignoring the gush of blood as I shoved my way out of the bushes. My entire body was covered in smaller scratches and cuts, and I felt something warm and wet trickling down my face. At least nothing seemed to be broken.

I ran across the yard toward Reese’s bleeding daughter, dropping to my knees to check her pulse. There, but very weak. F*ck. I saw a phone lying in the grass next to a bottle of water. A real phone, the kind that’s connected to a landline. Thank God for that, because I didn’t have an address to give them.

I grabbed it and dialed 911 frantically, praying it wasn’t too late.

REESE

“Burke will meet us in Cali,” Hunter said. “They went down to scope out targets already. Shade and his boys will be flying in this evening, and the Silver Bastards are headed south, too. Between them and our local allies, we should have close to three hundred men.”

“What’s scary is not even that many guys are enough to stand up to the cartel head-on,” Horse grunted.

“Their soldiers are disposable,” I said. “Ours aren’t. We know what we’re doin’ and we can trust each other. Combine that with the fact that we aren’t giving ’em the chance to meet us head-on, I think it’ll be enough.”

“So we’re wheels up just after ten tonight,” Hunter said. “It’s a cargo plane, and things are all smoothed out with the shipping company. The pilot’s a friend of mine and he’s solid. When we land, we’ll have brothers there to meet us and we’ll bring our own hardware. Sound good to everyone?”

The room filled with grunts and nods of approval.

“Thanks for settin’ all of this up,” I told him.

“No prob,” Hunter replied, glancing toward the man sitting next to him, who rolled his eyes. “I made Skid do most of the work, anyway. I suppose now it’s time to talk about your woman?”

“It’s complicated,” I admitted. “Not sure what to do. Long story short, she got manipulated by the cartel. Nate Evans may or may not have planned to set her up, but when the opportunity showed itself, he took it. Guess he was f*ckin’ her cousin—the one who lived with her—and probably filling her head with all kinds of bullshit. Then he gave her money to run off down south, where the kid’s mom happens to be shacked up with Gerardo Medina.”

Hunter gave a low whistle.

“Damn, bitch aims high.”

“No shit,” I agreed. “Now he’s livin’ the high life while his wife stays tucked away in Mexico. Anyway, when Jess went down, Medina took her and used her to control London. Guess they cut off the girl’s finger while she watched, and London lost it. We knew somethin’ was up, so we put a man on her, and some cameras out at my place. Then shit escalated and Puck found a loaded gun in her purse. He took her ammo and gave me a heads-up. We waited until she made her move before we took her down. Wanted to see how far she’d go.”

Silence filled the room.

“Any particular reason she’s still alive?” Hunter finally asked.

“She didn’t want to do it,” Gage said, his voice thoughtful. “She hates that f*cker Evans more than we do, which is sayin’ somethin’. Went after him with a two-by-four. Says she wants to help us take down the cartel, and she’s definitely got the motivation. We’re the only shot she has to save the kid at this point.”

Hunter smirked at me, and I saw the mocking laughter in his eyes. He knew I’d fallen for her, I knew I’d fallen for her, and now I had to kill her or look weak in the eyes of the Devil’s Jacks.

Goddammit.

The wail of sirens filled the air, and I cocked my head. The walls in here were solid as f*ck—hearing them so loud meant they had to be close. Cops? Shit. We had two goddamned prisoners in this barn, and about a hundred guns of one kind or another.

Not good.

Puck burst into the room, and for once he wasn’t calm and collected.

“You guys gotta get down here, fast,” he said. “Pic, your daughter’s in the backyard and I think she’s bleedin’ out. London’s with her, guess she called the ambulance. We got EMTs and firefighters all over the place.”


Hunter almost knocked me over, he was out of the room so fast. I was on his heels, tearing down the stairs and out into the backyard.

Oh, shit, Heather murmured in my head. That’s our baby …

What I saw nearly killed me.

It’s probably no surprise to hear I’ve ended more than one person’s life—I had a pretty good idea what it looked like when someone lost too much blood to live. That much blood and more coated Em’s lower body, and the blanket she’d been lying on was soaked with it, too.

Hunter stood over her—frozen—as two EMTs worked frantically.

London stood to the side, her eyes full of despair. A distant part of me noted that she was covered in blood, too. It ran down her head and into her face. It even dripped off her arms—looked like her clothes had been … shredded?

F*cked-up shit, and my baby girl was in the middle of it.

For an instant I was almost thankful Heather was dead, because if she was still here, she’d tear the skin right off my body for letting this happen. Whatever the hell this was. Looked like the blood was comin’ from between Em’s legs, and that was a bad f*ckin’ sign for my grandbaby.

I’m so goddamned sorry, Heather.

Hunter turned on London, grabbing her arms and shaking her violently.

“What the f*ck did you do to her? I’ll f*cking kill you for this, bitch!”

Skid, Gage, and Horse leapt into action, pulling him off and dragging him halfway across the lawn before the cop had time to do much more than blink.

“What’s going on?” I asked one of the EMTs, my stomach sinking. I’d never dreamed London could be a threat to Em—was she behind this? F*ck. What the hell had I done, bringing her here?

“Looks like a miscarriage,” the man said, catching my eyes. “You a family member?”

“I’m her dad.”

“You need to follow us to the hospital,” he said. “This is serious—she’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t know what the hell’s going on around here, but time to cut the drama because your kid needs you. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Christ. I hated this helpless feeling. It took forever for them to load Em—looked like she was dying, and there wasn’t a f*ckin’ thing I could do to help. Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the firefighters checking out London. She didn’t look so good, either. I glanced up at the carriage house, finding the remains of the second-story window. She’d obviously smashed it out and then dropped down into the bushes. There were broken leaves and sticks everywhere.

F*ck.

“That woman saved your daughter’s life,” the cop said, coming to stand next to me. He obviously recognized my colors, but he didn’t seem intimidated. “She jumped out the window and called nine one one. You wanna explain to me why someone would have to break out of a second-story room to get help, instead of using the stairs?”

“No idea,” I said. They were loading Em into the ambulance. Shit. I needed to follow them.

“Take care of your kid,” the cop said. “Don’t worry about the other victim. I’ll make sure she gets to the hospital and stays safe.”

His words caught me, and I looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time. He saw right through us, I realized. He knew London was a prisoner, and he was going to get her out of here. Of course, I had thirty brothers with me, and they’d fight to hold her if I asked them to … but that was a losing battle. This guy might be the only cop, but there were at least six firefighters. We tried to pull any shit, whole f*ckin’ city would come down on us. The cop smiled, because he knew he had me. Ignoring him, I strode toward the carriage house, jerking my chin for Skid to join me.

“They’re takin’ London to the hospital,” I said in a low voice. “Cop knows it’s not right, he’s gonna talk to her. I need the brothers and the evidence out of here before that happens, got me? Just in case.”

“I hear you,” he said, eyes narrowing. “F*ck. You should’ve taken care of this before you left home—shut her mouth so she’d never talk.”

“If we’d done that, Em would be dead right now,” I said coldly. “Don’t forget who called nine one one. London said she wanted to help us and she’s got good reasons to keep her word. Those cops won’t be able to get her cousin out. We’re her only hope, so let’s just wait and see what happens.”

LONDON

“Reese asked me to find a box for him,” I told the cop, my words deliberate and careful. “He’s my boyfriend. We rode over from Coeur d’Alene last night to visit his daughter. I went up to the storage room and started looking around—then I accidentally bumped the door and it swung shut, locking me in. That’s when I saw Em outside in the backyard, and after nobody heard me shouting, I broke out the window and jumped down.”

“What was in the box?”

“Motorcycle parts. I never found it.”

“If he’s your boyfriend, why isn’t he here to make sure you’re okay?”

I sighed, because now he was just being stupid on purpose.

“Because his daughter was bleeding out the last time I saw her, and all I’ve got are a few scratches. I think she takes priority over me for now, don’t you?”

The cop stared at me without speaking. We’d been through this whole story three times now. Each time he made it clear he didn’t believe I was telling the truth. Each time I made it clear I didn’t care what he believed.

In some ways I had to appreciate what he was trying to do—all too many police officers turned a blind eye to abuse, which was obviously what he thought was happening here. He was trying to save my life, and if staying alive were my top priority I’d be all over that.

But rescuing Jessica was my top priority, followed closely by killing the men who’d hurt her. Survival was a distant third.

“You aren’t going to change your story, are you?” he asked, his voice tired.

“It’s not a story,” I replied softly. “It’s what happened.”

“Here’s my card,” he said. “I’m putting my personal cell number on the back. Call me if you decide to talk, or you need help. We both know something’s wrong here, and sooner or later it’ll come crashing down around you. Don’t be afraid to reach out, okay?”

“Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine.”

He shook his head and walked away, leaving me alone in the small private room they’d given us. There were lots of tissue boxes placed in strategic spots—I had a feeling this was one of those places they put families right before they told them someone had died. I hoped very much that Reese wasn’t sitting in another room just like this somewhere else in the hospital, mourning his daughter. I needed to find him, or at the very least find someone who could tell me what the hell was going on with Em.

Standing up hurt, although none of my bruises or cuts were serious. They’d given me a couple of stitches on my forehead, disinfected me, and called it good. I was supposed to keep a close eye on the puncture wound in particular, and see a doctor asap if there were any signs of infection, blah blah blah.

I grabbed the bag holding the remains of my clothing and clutched it to my chest. (Although I wasn’t sure why they’d bothered to give them back to me, because I’d never be able to wear them again. At least the scrubs they’d given me were comfortable.) I’d already been discharged from the ER, so I was able to just walk right out into the waiting room. No sign of Reese, but I spotted Painter. His expression was grim.


I walked over to him, scared of whatever news had put that look on his face.

“How is she?” I asked, not bothering to say hello.

“Not good,” he said, standing up and facing me. “I guess the baby wasn’t right. They called it an octorpic pregnancy, or some such shit.”

“Ectopic?”

“Yeah, that sounds right. The baby wasn’t in the right place. Instead of growing in her womb, it was in one of the tubes to her ovary, and then it busted the whole thing open. That’s what started all the bleeding. They’ve got her in surgery right now, but she’s lost a f*ckload of blood, London. They said she might die. The baby never had a shot.”

I swayed, and he caught me, still holding my eyes.

“Reese and Gage put me here to watch for you,” he said slowly. “Gage said you were talking to the cops.”

I shook my head, trying to catch my breath.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” I told him quietly. “I didn’t give them any information. I’m not trying to get away from the MC, Painter. I want to go to California and save Jessica, and the only way that can happen is if I stick with the club. But right now I need to find Reese. He must be terrified.”

Painter nodded his head.

“Pretty sure he is, though he’d never cop to it. I can take you up there … But I need to tell you something first.”

“What?”

“Just because you saved Em, and you didn’t talk to the cops? That doesn’t mean you’re safe with us, and Pic isn’t necessarily the one who’ll make that call. You need to understand what you’re doing here, London. If you go upstairs and find Pic, there’s still a chance the club won’t forgive you. Even if they do, that trip to Cali might be one way—this isn’t a game. Give me the word and I’ll go take a piss, let you walk right out that door. Got about two hundred bucks on me and it’s yours. That’s the best I can do.”

I reached my hands up and cupped his face, smiling at him sadly.

“That’s one of the most beautiful things anyone’s ever offered me,” I said softly. “But I need to go find Reese, and then I need to go to California to find my girl. Whatever happens, happens, and I’m okay with it. Now where do I need to go—can you show me?”

“I’ll point you in the right direction, but I shouldn’t go in with you,” he told me.

“Why not?”

“Hunter doesn’t need to be seein’ my face right now. We got history, me and Em. I’ve come to terms, but he and I aren’t exactly friends. Don’t wanna stress him out more than I have to.”

Pieces fell together in my head, and I patted his arm, startled at how different he seemed from the young man I’d met just weeks ago. Painter put up a hell of a front, apparently.

Then again, so did Reese.

He escorted me as far as the corridor outside the surgical waiting area. I walked in, spotting Reese and Hunter immediately. Waiting with them were Horse, Ruger, and Bam Bam. There was also a young man wearing Devil’s Jacks colors I didn’t recognize. He was covered in tattoos and looked vaguely hipsterish with his skinny jeans.

Wow, if Portlanders could do that to a biker, they could turn anyone into a hipster.

Between him and Hunter sat a young woman whose face was streaked with tears and heavy black mascara. She looked like something out of a horror movie, but at least she showed some emotion. Hunter’s face was completely blank. So was Reese’s. I started toward them, and then stopped—across the room sat the same police officer who’d just been talking to me. Damn, but he was persistent.

He watched Em’s little support group closely, eyes speculative.

Shit.

We didn’t need this right now. Maybe a little show would get him off our asses? I started walking toward Reese again, hoping like hell he’d pick up on what I was doing and not blow it. When I got close enough, I flicked my eyes toward the cop, then set myself down in his lap like I had every right to be there. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck and whispered in his ear.

“That cop over there is trying to save me. I told him you’re my boyfriend, and that I just got stuck in the storeroom looking for something you needed, so treat me like you don’t want to strangle me and maybe he’ll go away.”

His arms tightened around me hard, and I let myself pretend for a moment that I’d spoken the truth. That he actually was still mine, and that he would be relieved to find me safe.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “One less thing to worry about.”

“You don’t trust me,” I said softly. “I understand that. But I’m on your side, Reese. I screwed up and now I’m trying to fix it. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or that things will ever be like they were before, but I won’t betray you again.”

He nodded, then loosened his grasp. Apparently I wasn’t the only one aware of our audience, because none of the others showed the slightest hint of reaction to our little reunion  . Hunter rose to his feet when Reese let me go, and walked over to us.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained. “They tell me she’d be dead already if you hadn’t saved her. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that, London. Guess I just lost it.”

God, he looked so young and scared.

I put a hand on his arm, offering him a little squeeze. Easy to forget some of these bikers were essentially still kids, despite how tough they acted. This boy was scared shitless because he’d lost his baby, and he might be losing his girlfriend soon, too.

“Don’t worry about it. I understood what was happening and didn’t take it personally.”

The girl who’d been sitting next to him joined us.

“I’m Kelsey,” she said, looking me over. Her face was tight and strained, and her entire body radiated leashed tension. “I’m this a*shole’s sister, which makes Em my sister, too. Thanks for what you did. That took balls.”

I shrugged.

“Let’s just hope they can help her.”

As if summoned by my voice, a doctor stepped into the waiting room and we all looked up, trying to read his expression.

“You the family?”

“Yeah,” Reese said, standing to face him. “What’s goin’ on with my girl?”

“She’s through surgery and it went well, all things considered. You already know she lost a lot of blood. We transfused her in the ER and again on the table, and I think we turned it around. Unfortunately there’s no way the fetus can survive in an ectopic pregnancy like this one. Wouldn’t matter how early we caught it and there’s nothing she could’ve done to prevent it. Sometimes it just happens.”

“Did you see if it was a boy or a girl?” Hunter asked, his voice anguished.

“It was a girl,” he replied. “She was about fourteen weeks old. I’m very sorry for your loss. We’re very lucky to have saved the mother—it was close, maybe a matter of minutes that made the difference. The next few hours will be critical, but I’m hopeful she’ll make a full recovery.”

Horse threw his arm around me and squeezed me tight.

“Thanks for rescuing our Emmy girl,” he said softly. Ruger nodded at me, and I wasn’t sure what to do or say. Reese seemed lost in his own world and Hunter’s eyes had turned red.

“How soon until we can visit her?” Kelsey demanded.


“She’s in recovery right now,” he said. “It’ll be a while before she’s ready for company, and I’d like her to get as much rest as she can. Immediate family only, and the rest of you can visit tomorrow or the day after.”

“I’ll stay here tonight,” Hunter said. “Unless that’s a problem?”

The doctor smiled, although the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“The waiting room is all yours,” he replied. “We’ll keep you posted.”

He turned and walked out, his mind obviously already on the next patient.

“So now what?” Ruger asked slowly. “This is f*cked, but we got three hundred brothers travelin’ down to Cali for a major offensive. We gotta make a plan, because we can’t just leave them hanging.”

“I’m out,” Hunter said bluntly. He gave his friend a quick glance. “Skid can step up and take over for me. I already told Burke what’s happening.”

I looked at Reese, wondering if he’d say the same thing. Nobody could blame him if he decided not to go to California—but there was no way in hell I’d get a chance to save Jessica without him there. He looked at me and sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“I’ll go,” he said to Hunter. “You take care of my girl for me, and I’ll make sure we got your club’s back.”

Hunter seemed surprised, and I saw Ruger and Horse exchange a glance I couldn’t interpret.

“Appreciate that,” Hunter said, turning toward Skid. “You need anything more from me?”

“Naw, I got it.”

“I’ll head back to the house,” Reese said slowly, although I could see it was killing him to leave Em. “Call me when she wakes up? I’ll come back and see her before we take off.”

“Sounds good,” Hunter said. “And Pic?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

“Gonna hold you to that.”





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