Reaper's Legacy

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RUGER

“I wish I had more to tell you,” Kimber said. She looked like a raccoon, her eyes completely surrounded by tear-streaked, black makeup. She sat at a table in the Armory, obviously exhausted from her long night. Ruger still couldn’t quite believe he’d actually fucked this woman. On purpose.

Sure, she had a great body, but compared to Sophie she was nothing. Not even on his dick’s radar.

“You did the best you could,” Horse said. It’d taken them a while to find Kimber because she’d gone on a rampage looking for Sophie and Em. When they’d finally caught up to her, she’d been holding four men hostage in the corner of Mick’s bar with a canister of pepper spray in one hand and her phone in the other. She’d been filming them, demanding that they tell her everything they knew “for the record.”

Thank fuck she didn’t have a gun with her.

“I tried,” she said. “I never should’ve let her go in by herself. The whole thing was a terrible idea. You’ll never know how sorry I am. I hope you can believe that.”

Picnic grunted, obviously unimpressed, but he managed to keep his mouth shut.

“It’s good you weren’t with her,” Bam Bam said, his voice soothing. “If you were, we’d have three hostages instead of two. Not only that, you’re not one of us, so they might consider you dead weight. This is better.”

“You gonna be okay watching Noah until we get this fixed?” Ruger asked abruptly.

“Yes,” she said, looking up and meeting his gaze. “I’ll take care of him like he’s my own. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Okay,” he told her. “I’ll come over and see him if I can. I’m not going to let myself get distracted from finding Sophie, though. You need a gun?”

“Oh, I’ve got a gun,” she replied, her voice dark.

“I’ll walk you out,” Painter said, his expression cold. Something in him had changed, Ruger realized. He’d always been a good man, but he wore a new sense of purpose this morning. Maybe this would motivate him to pull his shit together. He’d always assumed Painter and Em would end up together. Clearly she’d gotten tired of waiting. Fucking Internet dating … might as well paint a bright red target on her head.

Ruger was seeing things pretty clearly this morning himself. He needed Sophie back, safe and sound. Needed her more than his own life. He didn’t give a flying fuck about any other woman. If he’d pulled his head out of his ass earlier, this wouldn’t have happened, because she’d have been safe at home with him, in his bed.

Once he got her back, he’d never let her go again.

Never.

She wanted commitment? He’d tattoo her fucking name on his forehead if he had to. Whatever it took to keep her safe.

“Any news from the boys in Portland?” Duck asked.

“Not so far,” Picnic replied. “They think Toke might have the Jack—goes by Clutch—out to the coast. They’re looking for him, but don’t exactly have a lot of leads.”

“How’s the one he shot?”

“Critical but stable, whatever the fuck that means,” Pic said. “Guess that’s something to be thankful for. Okay, let’s get going on this. We got two hours before our meet with Hunter. Thoughts?”

“Let me handle this one,” Duck said, crossing his arms. “You’re too involved, and that means your brain won’t be working. You and Ruger should stay here.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Picnic said, shaking his head. “I’m the president. This is my job.”

“You’re a father and you’re running on fumes,” Duck replied. “You do this and fuck it up, your girl dies. You really believe you can look this fuckwad in the eye and play nice? ’Cause I don’t think you can. Be smart and let me handle it. You don’t want me, have Horse do it, or Bam Bam. We’re your brothers for a reason. We’ve got your back.”

Picnic shook his head again, face tense. He’d started methodically loading spare magazines for his new gun, which he’d been test-firing earlier. Ruger knew he planned to kill Hunter with that same gun, because they’d spent close to an hour together, carefully choosing just the right weapon to do it.

Something untraceable, with a small enough caliber to do slow, steady damage for a long, long time without ending the bastard’s life too quickly.

“Ruger, you need to stay back, too,” Horse said. Ruger glanced up at him and shook his head.

“Nope,” he said. “I’m going. Nonnegotiable. I don’t need to be lead, but I’ll be there.”

Horse and Duck exchanged looks.

“Okay, new plan,” Duck said. “I’ll be lead, you guys come along but keep back. We can’t let him fuck with you—he gets you worked up, you do something stupid, he wins. Got me?”

“Got it,” Pic said. “Just so long as you remember—in the end, he’s mine.”

“Ours,” Ruger corrected. “Him and his friend.”

“And Toke?” Bam Bam asked. “Thoughts on him?”

“Let him answer to the brothers,” Ruger said. “We voted, we made a decision for the club. He ignored that. Fucker needs to pay.”

SOPHIE

“He’s going to go meet with Dad,” Em said, finally speaking.

Earlier Hunter had come and taken her away, only returning her about ten minutes ago. She’d been gone with him for what felt like an eternity. Realistically, it probably hadn’t been more than an hour. When she’d first come back she’d kept pretty quiet. Now she lay with me on the bed again, me cuffed by my right wrist and Em cuffed by her left.

“Why?” I asked.

“I think he’s trying to save the situation,” she said, her voice sounding a little mournful. “I think he actually cares about me, Soph.”

I widened my eyes.

“You can’t be serious,” I said. “He wants to screw you—I get that, he’s a guy and you’re hot. But a man who cares about a woman doesn’t kidnap her.”

“Ask Marie about that,” she said, sounding uncomfortable. “Horse totally kidnapped her. Now they’re getting married.”

That shut me up for a minute.

“Do I want to know the whole story?” I asked finally.

“It’s not going to make you feel any better.”

Motorcycle pipes roared outside the house and we heard the sound of someone riding away.

“That’s Hunter leaving,” she said. “If I get away and Dad finds out I’m safe, he’ll kill him for sure.”

“Don’t,” I said, looking over at her. She seemed downcast, thoughtful. Shit, we couldn’t afford this. “Don’t you dare have second thoughts. This guy is dangerous and we’re going to get seriously hurt if we stay here. We’re going to escape. In fact, we’re going to escape soon.”

“I know,” she said. “I just wish—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

We gave it an hour, or at least we thought it was about an hour. We wanted to be sure Hunter was far away before we tried our escape. Em opened the knife and popped out a tiny, thin flat-head screwdriver. Five minutes later we were out of the cuffs and taking turns peeking out the window. Hunter hadn’t lied. We appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by scruffy shrubs, open ground, and the occasional pine tree.

Only the van sat outside, no more bikes, which hopefully meant we’d only be dealing with Skid. Even so, there wasn’t a lot of ground cover.

“If he chases us we don’t have a chance,” I said, my voice grim.

“He won’t chase us,” she replied. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’re going to sneak downstairs. We’ll figure out where he is, then you go out one side of the house and I’ll go out the other. I can see a back door from here.”

“And if he sees us?”

“Whoever he sees has to slow him down long enough for the other one to get away and find help,” she told me. “No matter what it takes. And I’m going to be the one going closest to him.”

“Why?” I asked, startled. “Not that I want any extra risk, but—”

“Because you have a kid,” she said. “All other issues aside, Noah needs you and nobody needs me.”

“Your family, the whole club, they all need you,” I protested.

“You know I’m right,” she said. “Don’t even try to be noble here or something. If only one of us gets out, it’s you. Let’s not fight about it, okay?”

I took a deep breath and then nodded because she was right. Noah was more important than the rest of us put together.

“Okay, but promise me something,” I said. “You need to seriously try to get away. Don’t let yourself get caught or something just because you want to keep Hunter safe.”

She looked back outside, and for a moment I thought she might argue. How much had Hunter fucked with her head, anyway?

“I’m serious. I’ll start screaming right now and let him know we’ve got that knife if you don’t promise me you’ll do your best to get away.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “If we get free, we could always give him time to get back before calling Dad, you know. It’s not like it’s all or nothing. I’m not stupid.”

I kept my mouth shut. If I got away and found a phone, Hunter was toast.

“I suppose there’s no time like the present, hmm?” I asked.

“Might as well go now,” she said. “I’ll keep the knife, unless you know how to use it?”

“You mean to fight?” I asked, startled. She nodded. “Um, no. I didn’t take knife-fighting class in school. You can keep it.”

“Okay, let’s do this thing,” Em said, using a very fine Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. Unfortunately, it was going to take more than a silly voice to make me feel badass. We bumped fists, opened the bedroom door, and started creeping across the floor. I was terrified we’d make it squeak, but fortunately it seemed solid enough. She eased the bedroom door open, and from downstairs I heard the sound of a game playing on the TV.

“I’ll go down the stairs first,” Em whispered. “Then I’ll wave you on. Be ready to go whatever direction I point you, based on where I see him. If I point back at the bedroom, go up and get yourself back into your handcuff, okay? If I wave you on, that’s it. We’ll only get one shot, so don’t fuck it up. I’m counting on you to send help for me if I have to distract him.”

“I can do it,” I told her, hoping it was the truth. “Let’s both get out, though, okay?”

“Oh, one more thing, and this is important,” she said.

“What?”

“If you find a phone, call my dad or Ruger,” she said. “Don’t call the cops.”

I stared at her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” she said, her voice serious. “I’m not kidding at all. This is club business—if we get the cops involved, things will get much worse, and it’ll happen fast, too.”

“No,” I said flatly. “If I get out of here I’m calling nine one one as fast as I can.”

“Then we’re not going,” she replied. My eyes widened.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” she replied. “You call the cops, Dad or Ruger might wind up in jail before this ends.”

“How do you figure?”

“You think I was joking when I said Dad would kill Hunter?” she asked slowly. “This isn’t a game. I’ll try to convince him not to. I’ll hope to hell it doesn’t happen. But Hunter going to jail for this won’t protect him, and if Dad takes him out, I don’t want to lose him, too.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, shocked. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you won’t call the cops,” she replied. “If you’re in the position to make a call, you’ll already be safe. I have the right to make the decision for myself, though.”

I thought about it for a second.

“Okay,” I whispered. I didn’t like it, but I’d do it.

She nodded, then started down the stairs very slowly. This would be the hardest part, because we needed to pass through the living room to go anywhere else in the house. He was probably in there, because that’s where the TV was. I pictured the layout in my head—he’d be facing away, and I didn’t remember seeing any mirrors on the walls.

Just a little luck and we’d pull it off.

Em looked up at me, lifted a finger to her mouth and then waved me down. I crept from step to step, trying to stay completely silent, while still moving fast enough so that we wouldn’t lose our opportunity. Skid came into view as I reached the bottom of the stairwell. He sat on the couch, back to us, playing some sort of game that involved shooting at things.

Luckily, it also seemed to involve a lot of loud noises and blowing things up.

Em touched my hand and I looked at her. She pointed at her chest, then toward the front door. Then she pointed at me and toward the back of the house. She held up three fingers, then counted down with them, two, one—go.

I slipped past her, walking quickly but silently toward the back of the house. Within seconds I passed out of the living room, through a dining room, and into a kitchen. I found the back door. It was locked, of course, but all I had to do was open the deadbolt. No special security or anything.

They really hadn’t been planning to kidnap us, I realized. Even I knew that when you plan a kidnapping, you prep a place for your prisoners.

So far so good.

I eased the back door open, and then Skid shouted behind me. I heard Em shriek at him and then a loud, crashing noise. I took off out the door, running as fast as I could in a wide circle around the house.

There was a long gravel driveway, and since we’d already been discovered, I followed it, listening for vehicles or gunfire. I didn’t hear anything other than that first loud outburst. My heart pounded and my brain shut down—would Skid really kill Em? I ran hard, adrenaline powering my legs.

Then I heard a gunshot.

Fuck.

RUGER

Hunter had set up the meet in Spirit Lake, but Ruger got a text halfway there sending them to Rathdrum instead. The Devil’s Jack waited for them in a bar that clearly stated “No Colors” outside the door, forcing them to take off their cuts before going inside.

Dick. Balls of brass, though.

They walked in to find him sitting in the back, nursing a beer. Picnic started forward, but Bam Bam caught his arm, pulling him back.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low. Picnic nodded tightly as Duck took lead instead.

“Your girls are doing just fine,” Hunter said as the men sat down, and Ruger realized he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he pretended. His eyes were like ice, and he looked almost feral. That wildness made Ruger damned uncomfortable. Man like that might do anything—no predicting his actions. “I’m planning to keep it that way, so long as you do your part. Where are we on that? You got news for me on your boy?”

“No, we got shit,” Duck said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Here’s what you need to know. Toke—”

“Toke slashed Em with a knife,” Hunter said. “I saw the damage. He’s out of control, and not just with us. Am I right?”

“How did you see that?” Picnic demanded. “Why the fuck was her shirt off?”

“Shut up,” Hunter said. Picnic lurched to his feet, but Horse caught him, pushing him back down.

“Not now, Pic,” Horse murmured. “Hold it back.”

“Why was her shirt off?” Picnic repeated. Ruger felt his own temper rise, but he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open.

“I think a better question is, why she did she get cut in the first place?” Hunter asked, his voice full of carefully leashed anger. “Or maybe, why was she meeting a strange man in a bar without any kind of backup? You fucked up, old man, and I’ve got her now. Looks like she needs someone new to protect her anyway.”

Fuck me, Ruger thought. He’s got a thing for Em.

“Let’s get back on track,” Duck said, his tone smooth and dangerous, which wasn’t like Duck at all. Usually he had a big mouth and a short temper, but the crisis seemed to have brought out something more calculating in him. He’d told them stories about Vietnam, about patrols in the backcountry and sneaking behind enemy lines, but Ruger had always thought he was full of shit.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“We can’t give you what you want,” Duck told Hunter. “Believe me, we want to. We’ve been looking for him all week. And this shit—this goes against our whole club. We voted on the truce and the decision was made. He’ll answer for that to the national officers. But don’t go hurting two innocent girls trying to force us to do something impossible. I promise you, either of them gets a scratch and your life will end. Got me?”

Hunter sat back in his chair, studying each man in turn.

“You seriously expect me to believe you can’t track down your own man?” he asked, cocking his head. “Sounds like the Reapers got some problems of their own.”

“That may be,” Horse said. “But it’s a fact—we can’t tell you where he is. I can’t make you believe that, but no matter what you do to Em and Sophie, it doesn’t change reality. We’ve had guys looking for him all week.”

“Let me guess, his brothers in Portland? Deke?” Hunter asked sarcastically. “Because they’ll cover his ass.”

“Not just Deke,” Horse replied. “And trust me, they want his ass as much as you do. This isn’t just about you—he broke faith with all of us. We voted. We made a truce.”

“Seriously, Hunter. We know jack shit about Toke,” Ruger said, somehow staying calm and matter-of-fact, despite the fact he wanted to jump over the table and cut the prick’s heart out. “I think you get we’re lookin’ at a war starting, right here, right now. Toke’s out of control and we all know it. Whatever happens to him, he brought on himself. But you takin’ our girls? That’s different. When we come after you, we’ll bring the whole damned club with us.”

“Em and Sophie are safe,” Hunter said. “And I promise they’ll stay that way, at least for now. But you aren’t getting them back.”

“How ’bout giving us one?” Duck asked. “Sophie’s got a kid. Send her back.”

Picnic stiffened, but he kept his mouth shut. This wasn’t part of the plan. Ruger saw where Duck was going with it, though. One was better than none, and if Hunter had a thing for Em, he’d be motivated to protect her. Not only that, Em would definitely want Sophie back with Noah. Ruger glanced over at Pic and saw understanding written on his face.

Fuck … He couldn’t even imagine what Picnic was going through right now. It was bad enough they had Sophie. If somebody tried to take away Noah, he’d lose his shit all over the place. Rain goddamn hellfire on them.

“What’ll you give me if I let her go?” Hunter asked. “I want something to take back to my club.”

“How about a hostage?” Painter said suddenly. “They’ve got one of your brothers—you take one of ours and let both girls go.”

Hunter gave a short laugh.

“Fuck that,” he said. “Your ugly asses aren’t worth shit to me. We want a Reaper, we’ll pick one up in Portland.”

He leaned forward, his eyes intense.

“I want peace,” Hunter continued. “Even with all this, I still want peace. Nothing in our situation has changed, and if you’re tellin’ me Toke is rogue, give me something to take to my club and maybe we can still save the truce.”

He pulled out his phone, glancing down at it.

“Back in five,” Hunter said. He stood and walked away, holding it to his ear.

“This is a waste of time,” Picnic said. “Deke was right—no point making peace with these fuckwads.”

Ruger nodded, and he heard his brothers murmur agreement. The entire club needed to reevaluate their decision, no question. Didn’t excuse Toke going rogue, but Ruger understood his motivations.

Hunter hung up his phone and turned back toward them. Almost immediately it rang again and he answered, studying their table the entire time. While his face stayed carefully blank, Ruger caught a hint of something wild in his eyes.

Then the Devil’s Jack hung up the phone once more and walked toward them.

“Good news and bad,” he said slowly. Ruger tensed.

“What’s that?” Duck asked.

“Clutch is alive,” he said. “At least for now. We don’t have much information on him yet. They took him to the hospital. That’s the good.”

“And the bad?” said Picnic.

“It was cops that found him and Toke,” Hunter replied. “Someone heard something and called it in. They caught Toke hiding in a hotel, our guy chained up in the bathroom. The girls who were in our house when he attacked are cooperating, so the cops have witnesses. They’ll put Toke in protective custody. Out of our reach, for now. The brothers won’t be happy about that.”

“You gonna give us back Sophie and Em?” Ruger asked.

The question hung heavy between them as Hunter leaned back and took another drink, face blank.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m doin’ it to prove we’re serious about the truce. Toke’s situation still isn’t resolved. But I’m willing to accept he wasn’t acting on behalf of the Reapers, pull that out of the equation.”

Ruger felt the band around his chest loosen for the first time since he’d gotten that panicked call from Sophie.

“When?” Picnic asked.

“Soon,” Hunter replied. “But I’m getting out of here alive first, I think. I’m sure you’ll see my concern?”

Duck snorted, almost a laugh.

“Yeah, I’d be concerned in your place, too,” he said. “We won’t forget this. Not sure that truce is gonna last after this little adventure.”

“Me neither,” Hunter admitted. “I’ll do my best. Hope you will, too. Skid’ll let the girls go once I give him the word. Won’t happen until I’m sure I’m safe, so you start trailing me, your girls stay locked up longer.”

“Understood,” Picnic said. “Make it fast.”

“One more thing,” Duck said. “The Toke situation—you got any pull with those witnesses? We’d like to handle this within the club as much as possible. Toke’ll keep his mouth shut, sure your boys will, too.”

Hunter shrugged.

“We’ll see what happens.”

“Right,” Duck said. “Keep Em and Sophie safe, got me? Otherwise I’ll personally skin you and use it to make lamp shades for the Armory.”

SOPHIE

Sometimes your brain tells you to do something and you know it’s wrong.

My brain told me to run faster when I heard Skid’s gun go off, to follow Em’s plan like a good little girl. I was supposed to get out and get help. No turning back. My son needed me … We agreed on it.

Not only that, saving Em was Picnic and Ruger’s job.

This wasn’t my fight.

But somehow I knew—in my gut and in my soul—that if I kept running, Skid would kill Em. Maybe he already had.

I couldn’t leave her behind.

So I stopped running and turned back toward the house, creeping up on it as quickly as I could, taking cover underneath a window on the living-room side. I listened for a second, hearing the muffled sound of Skid’s voice. Em answered him, her tone pleading. I figured that meant he was distracted, so I popped up for a quick peek.

Em lay on the floor, pressing against the outside of her left thigh with both hands. Bright red blood seeped between her fingers. Skid stood over her, gun pointed and ready, and the look on his face wasn’t friendly. This guy would be happy to kill her.

Fuck.

I looked around frantically, trying to think of a plan. I needed to stop him, and I needed to do it in a way that wouldn’t end with someone dead. I crawled quickly around the side of the house, where the open front porch held two wooden chairs and a small table. I tried peeking in the front window to see what was happening, but shades covered it.

Then I heard Em scream.

No more time.

I grabbed one of the chairs, pleased to find that it was solid wood and had a nice heft. Then I rang the doorbell and waited, holding my chair ready.

“Who’s out there?” Skid called.

I stayed quiet—I mean, what the hell was I supposed to say? Please come out so I can hit you? Using my elbow, I rang the bell again. My muscles started to burn from holding the chair. Hurry up, asshole.

“Fuck off!” Skid yelled. Em must’ve done something to mess with him because I heard a crashing noise. I rang the bell five or six times in a row with my elbow like an annoying kid.

Skid threw the door open.

I clocked him hard in the face with the chair. He staggered and the gun went off, thankfully missing me. I ignored the ringing in my ears and swung the chair around and hit him again. He shuddered, then lunged toward me, blood running down his face from his smashed nose. I screamed as he grabbed the chair by its legs, jerking it away and raising it high.

Then Em was on him from behind.

She attacked like a rabid ferret, arms tightening around his neck as she bit and scratched and kicked. He lurched forward and I joined in, grabbing the second chair and swinging it at his knees. He gave a high scream as he pitched forward off the porch, Em riding him down into the dirt. I jumped after them, landing between his legs and kicking him in the crotch over and over again. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any little Skidlets in his future to carry on the family legacy.

Skid screamed like a baby the whole time.

And Em? I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying.

Ten minutes later, we’d handcuffed Skid’s bruised, bleeding body to a porch pillar. He’d passed out from the pain, which was probably a good thing. I didn’t want to look into his evil eyes or listen to whatever bullshit he might spew.

Now I sat in one of the porch chairs, his confiscated gun carefully braced against my leg, cocked and ready to shoot. I didn’t want to kill him, but I’d do it if I had to. I didn’t doubt that for a second.

Em hobbled out of the house, her leg bandaged in strips of sheet from the bedroom. Thankfully, the bullet had just lightly grazed her thigh. Still, her face was white and drawn from the pain.

Despite it all, she managed a small smile, holding up a cell phone in triumph.

“Dumbass has Google maps installed,” she said. “I know exactly where we are. I’m calling Dad to come and get us.”

She dialed.

“Hey, Dad? It’s me. We’re okay. Could use a ride, though.”

Her eyes flickered toward Skid as Picnic’s muffled voice burst out of the phone.

“No, it’s all good,” she answered. “But you might want to bring the van. We may need some cargo space.”

She gave them directions and hung up.

“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” Em told me. “They sounded pretty happy to hear from us.”

“Was Hunter with them?” I asked. As soon as the question left my mouth, I regretted it. Did I really want the answer? Em swallowed and looked away.

“No,” she said. “The meet was already over. I guess we missed him by maybe five minutes. He’s got good luck.”

I raised a brow, but kept my mouth shut. Em dropped the phone to the ground, then stomped on it, and I heard the crunch of glass and plastic.

“What the hell?” I asked, startled. “Why’d you do that?”

“GPS,” she said shortly. “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,” she said. “Dad and Ruger will find us. Don’t worry. By 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?”

“Got you,” I said, narrowing my eyes. Em grabbed the second chair and dragged it over toward me, sitting down.

“Want me to take the gun for a while?”

“Thanks,” I said, handing it over. It was surprisingly heavy, and after the first few minutes my hand had started cramping. I stretched my fingers, looking out across the long gravel driveway into the trees.

“No offense,” I said slowly. “But that was the shittiest girls’ night out ever.”

Em gave a short, startled snort of laughter.

“Ya think?”