Reapers MC: Devil's Game Part 17

I gave him the directions and hung up. I looked up to find Sophie watching me. She looked a little shocky, I decided, and the gun trembled in her hand. I'd take over guarding Skid in a minute, but I had one more thing to do first.

"They'll be here in about twenty minutes," I told her. "They sounded pretty happy to hear from us."

"Was Hunter with them?" she asked.

I swallowed.

"No. The meet was already over. I guess we missed him by maybe five minutes. He's got good luck."

Sophie raised a brow and I met her gaze head-on, challenging her to question my story. She didn't. I stepped off the porch and dropped the phone on the ground, stomping on it with my spiky heel. The gla.s.s shattered and crunched.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Sophie demanded. "Why'd you do that?"

"GPS," I said, which wasn't true. I just didn't want my dad to see that I'd called Hunter. "I don't want the Devil's Jacks tracing us with it, and we can't leave it here."

"What if we need it again?"

"We won't. Dad and Ruger will find us. Don't worry. By this time tomorrow it'll be like this never happened. In fact, I don't want to talk about it and I don't want to think about it. Got me?" I added pointedly.

"Got you," she said, narrowing her eyes. I waited for her to say something else, but she didn't. My opinion of her went up another notch. Whatever else she might not get about MC life, Sophie seemed to understand sisterhood.

Sometimes sisters need to shut their mouths and drop it.

This was definitely one of those times.

By the time Dad and the other brothers arrived, I was exhausted.

The adrenaline had faded and my entire body was sore and stiff. The little wrestling match with Skid hadn't helped. Now I stood on the porch watching my father roll Skid's body over with his foot. I was trying to play it cool, but all I really wanted was to crawl into his arms and sleep for a year. But I wasn't a little girl anymore ...

"He's been bleeding, but not too bad," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Don't know if he's pa.s.sed out from a head injury or from shock. Sophie kicked his nuts to h.e.l.l and back."

Dad grunted, then stepped up onto the porch, holding out his hand for the gun I still gripped. I gave it to him and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

Suddenly I felt safe again.

I looked down at the brothers filling the yard. Ruger. Horse. Duck ... Painter. I'd never seen them looking so serious. Bam Bam, a big man who was married to my friend Dancer, studied Skid thoughtfully. My former crush stood next to him, eyes haunted. He looked different somehow. Older. It was attractive, I realized in a distant way. Huh.

"How we gonna play this?" Bam asked. I knew what he was really saying, of course. He wanted to know if they were going to get Skid medical help or put him in the ground. I braced myself and took a deep breath, knowing my work wasn't done quite yet.

"Not in front of the girls," Dad muttered, and I knew the answer. So far as Dad was concerned, Skid was already dead. "Ruger, you and Painter take them, get them safe. Call the medic. He can meet you at the clubhouse. We'll clean up here."

I shook my head.

"Don't kill him. You do that, there's going to be even more fighting."

"This is about the club, Em," my dad said quietly. Translation-Go home and be a good girl. Let the men do the thinking for you.

Suddenly I was sick of it.

I'd gotten kidnapped because of their bulls.h.i.+t, and I wasn't even supposed to know why I'd nearly died. I'd gotten myself out of it, no thanks to them, and now I was expected to just nod and smile.

f.u.c.k that.

I popped up on my toes and whispered in Dad's ear.

"Hunter told me about the truce and the cartel. If you kill this guy, we're all going to suffer. I know you're p.i.s.sed, Dad, but we have to think of the club. Please. Think of me and Kit-I don't want to live in fear."

He stiffened.

I pulled away, looking up at him, begging with my eyes. Don't let your ego make this decision.

He shook his head, jaw rigid. f.u.c.k. I crossed my arms and stepped back, my plea turning to a glare. How f.u.c.king typical-the king's pride got hurt, so now we all have to go to war? If anyone gets to make the decision, it should be me and Sophie.

Dad held my eyes for long seconds, then sighed.

"Okay, we'll take him with us and dump him somewhere he'll be found," he said. "See if you can find something to bandage him up with, Bam."

Relief crashed through me. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight.

"You're doing the right thing, Daddy," I whispered.

"This was club business, baby girl. You shouldn't be worrying about things so much. That's my job."

His words cut through me and I stiffened. I wasn't a f.u.c.king baby to be handed a sucker and told to go play.

Wait, where had that come from?

Dad wasn't saying anything he hadn't said a thousand times before, but for some reason this time it really p.i.s.sed me off. This is what it feels like to be Kit, I realized, suddenly understanding her need to rebel. Oh, I didn't like this feeling. I didn't like it one bit.

I glanced toward the brothers. n.o.body was paying attention to us. Perfect.

"Daddy, I love you, but this stopped being club business when I got kidnapped and cuffed to a bed," I said quietly, making sure my voice didn't carry. "That made it my business. I'm still trying to figure out what happened and what it all means, but I have a right to worry about things that might destroy my life."

He frowned at me.

"Let's talk about it later, baby."

Right. I knew that tone. "Later" meant "never."

I sighed, because I'd gotten as far as I would for now. That was okay-this wasn't the kind of conversation you have in front of an audience, anyway. I was determined, though. I wasn't going to just slide back into life as usual.

Everything had changed.

I'd been raised to let the men in my life tell me what to do, and look what that'd gotten me. It'd been so easy to follow Hunter away from my friends and into that alley. I'd been so f.u.c.king naive. Blind.

Never again.

From now on, I'd be making my own decisions and Dad would just have to deal with it.

Chapter Eight.

ONE WEEK LATER.

I was right.

"We'll talk later" meant "We won't talk about it."

To be fair, Dad wasn't around much in the days following my rescue. He didn't say where he was going, but I a.s.sumed he was off dealing with Toke and the Devil's Jacks. I just hoped he hadn't "dealt" with them permanently. Of course, I was expected to stay home and forget all about it.

That s.h.i.+t used to be okay. Not anymore.

Not that I would confront Dad directly or try to push my way into a club meeting to find out the real situation-nope, that wouldn't accomplish anything, anyway. But it did confirm what I'd started to realize the day Sophie and I took down Skid. It was time for one Emmy Lou Hayes to get the h.e.l.l out of Coeur d'Alene.

I needed to grow up and get a life.

Finding a place to go was the first challenge. I knew I could stay with Kit, but she only had a studio at school in Olympia. I didn't think it was fair to put that kind of pressure on her. Nope, I wanted to find my own path. At least I had money saved ... One advantage to living with my father was I didn't really have many expenses. I'd already applied to that aesthetician's program in Portland. It was a great school, but I wasn't sure I wanted to risk being in the same city as Hunter. On the other hand, it was a city-not a village. Wasn't like I'd see him around all the time. h.e.l.l, I'd probably never run into him at all.

I even knew where he lived, so I could be sure to avoid him.

(Okay, so I'd done a little online stalking of my own by now. I still had his wallet, which I suppose I should've felt guilty over. Instead I used his credit card to order some really cute lingerie. I didn't spend enough to bankrupt him, but it was enough to make him suffer a little. Oh, and I sprang for gift wrapping and overnight delivery, because why not? Just because I'd saved his life didn't mean I'd forgiven him for what he'd done.) Unfortunately, ordering presents for myself online was the closest I could get to real shopping, because Dad put me on lockdown. And if that weren't bad enough, Painter had appointed himself as my own personal guardian angel while Dad was gone. I couldn't believe I used to crush on that guy-now all I saw when he walked into a room was a vision of him s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g some s.k.a.n.k on a bathroom counter. Liam had been right. I definitely deserved better. Despite my hostility, Painter insisted on driving me to work every morning and meeting me for lunch. Then he'd drive me home and hang out at the house, spending the night on the couch or in Kit's old bedroom.

To call this awkward was one h.e.l.l of an understatement.

Thus I took to spending a lot of time in my room. That's where I was on Friday night, exactly one week from the day I'd met Hunter for the first time. I had my TV on and I was playing around online when a private message popped up.

LIAM: Hey Em I blinked. I'd blocked his a.s.s. How the h.e.l.l did he get through?

LIAM: Are you there?

I considered the little flas.h.i.+ng message alert. Should I answer? What would I say? Direct confrontation, I decided. Call him on his s.h.i.+t, because seeing his message didn't send a little thrill through me at all. No thrills allowed.

ME: How did you contact me? I blocked you.

LIAM: Probably best not to give up all my secrets. How are you?

ME: I'm great. n.o.body took naked pictures of me without my consent today.

LIAM: Guess I had that coming. You wearing any of those panties you bought with my card?

I giggled, then managed to cut it off. Didn't need Painter bursting in to check on me. And why was I laughing, anyway? Still ... I wish I'd seen Hunter's face when he realized I was spending his money.

ME: Yes. I'm wearing a midnight blue pushup bra and matching thong, because I'm getting ready to go out on a date. I like my new man a lot because he doesn't kidnap people.

LIAM: A date? Pretty sure you're stuck at home tonight with Painter. Please tell me you aren't dating him? Hate me all you want, but you really can do better.

My breath caught. How did he know Painter was here?

ME: Are you stalking me again?

LIAM: Just tonight. I need to talk to you. Promise-last time-then I'll leave you alone. You saved my life. Let me share what I know so you can stop worrying. I know your dad hasn't filled you in, but you deserve answers.

I stared at the screen. How f.u.c.king stupid did he think I was? I should turn off the computer. But I was also curious ... After all, I'd betrayed my club for this a.s.shole. Now I wanted to hear what he had to say.

ME: So talk.

LIAM: Not online. Can you come outside?

I froze again. s.h.i.+t. He couldn't be serious, could he? I glanced at my window, relieved to see that the shade was tightly closed. Someone outside might be able to see that my light was on, but they wouldn't be able to see inside.

ME: Why would I be stupid enough to do that?

LIAM: Because you're curious. Bring a gun if it makes you feel better. But come outside and talk to me-I promise it's safe. Don't let Painter follow you, though. Last thing we need is another standoff.

Like h.e.l.l I'd talk to him. I closed my computer and set it on the bed, grabbing the TV remote. Of course I wasn't going outside. That would be incredibly stupid. I reached down and rubbed my leg lightly over the still-healing gash. Despite all the blood, Skid's bullet hadn't really caused any real damage-just a flesh wound. But even flesh wounds hurt like a b.i.t.c.h. I wondered if Hunter had ever been shot, and had the sudden urge to march out there and demonstrate to him just how painful a graze from a bullet could be.

I had excellent aim.

I flipped through the channels, trying to find a distraction. There was nothing on, of course. Just some creepy reality show about a woman who thought she was a squirrel. Life with Cara, or some such s.h.i.+t. My phone buzzed. Another message from Hunter ...

LIAM: Come outside and see me. It's safe. Remember-I only took you to save a brother's life. I may have scared you, but I wouldn't have actually hurt you. I know I destroyed what we were starting and I understand I can never fix it. Doesn't mean I don't miss you.

I dropped the phone and flopped back on my bed. The clock next to me said it was one in the morning. I should just turn off the light and go to sleep. That was what the old me would've done. But I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said. We had been starting something-something good. Because despite everything between our clubs, I'd spent hours talking on the phone to this man, sharing jokes and telling stories. We'd laughed together and that hadn't been fake.

Remembering all that p.i.s.sed me off, too. He'd killed us, whatever the h.e.l.l "us" had been growing into. He should pay for what he did. I got up and pulled on a pair of ratty sweatpants. A hoodie and my favorite pink Converse completed the outfit.

Yeah, I know. s.e.xy.

I had a flash of deja vu as I tiptoed down the stairs past Painter, who was sleeping on the couch, TV still flickering in the darkness. I stopped off in the dining room, grabbing a tiny pistol from behind a plate in the china cabinet. It was full of stuff my mother had collected-stuff we never used but wouldn't consider throwing away in a million years.

I gave it a quick check, making sure it was loaded (it was) and ready for action (d.a.m.ned straight). Then I tucked it in the pocket of my hoodie right next to my cell, and slipped out the back door. The moon was full, and as I walked away from the house, the night's beauty startled me. There were crickets singing all around, and while the stars were faint in the bright moonlight, they were everywhere.

Keeping my eyes sharp, I looked around carefully. No sign of anyone, but I knew just how sneaky Hunter and Skid could be. My hand tightened on the gun. Now what?

My phone buzzed again.

LIAM: I'm out behind the bunkhouse I glanced up, spotting the small building nestled back in the trees. Once upon a time it housed workers on the ranch that used to surround us. The land had been divided up and sold off years ago, but the old outbuildings still stood. Kit and I used it as a playhouse, and now it was full of random junk my dad had collected over the years. I fingered the gun again, the slight pain in my leg a constant reminder that this a.s.shole had gotten me shot. Time for payback?