Reaper's Legacy

CHAPTER FIVE

Ruger was wrong. It wasn’t okay.

Things got weird.

So weird that he took off on me for nearly five days, leaving Sunday afternoon and not showing up again until Thursday. I had no idea where he went and didn’t ask him about it when he came back. But it had to get less uncomfortable, right? Because you can only be all tense and strange around each other for so long …

At least Noah started school without any problems, which didn’t really surprise me. He’d always been good at making new friends and tended to roll with whatever changes came along. Before Ruger left on his club run (I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what “runs” were, but apparently this one involved being gone for five days), he’d handed me some money and suggested I wait until the next week to start job hunting. He wanted to explore work options with the club, and also thought I should focus on helping Noah adjust to his new situation.

I’d love to say I’m such a strong, independent woman that I told him to butt out, but it was actually a huge relief. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a week off, and I loved it. I unpacked everything, sucked up the sun and got reacquainted with the area.

I also spent an afternoon with my old friend Kimber.

She invited me over for lunch on Tuesday. We’d stayed in touch through the years, and last summer I’d stayed with her and her new husband when we came to visit. Kimber had gone a little wild for a while after graduation. Then she met Ryan and settled down. He was some kind of software engineer and apparently did pretty well for himself, because she had one of those big houses popping up like mushrooms out on the Rathdrum Prairie. It was part of a development, not custom like Ruger’s, but twice the size and pretty impressive.

She also had a pool.

“You want a margarita?” she asked, opening the door in a bikini, a brightly colored wrap, and sunglasses that would’ve made Paris Hilton jealous. I smirked, because some things never change.

“This early?”

“It’s always happy hour when you have kids,” she replied, shrugging. “Either that or it’s sad hour, and that’s not half as much fun.”

We grinned at each other like total dorks.

“So, you want one or not?” she asked, dragging me through her grand entryway and down the hall to her kitchen. “Because I’m definitely having one. Ava was up all night teething. She finally fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago. If I’m lucky, I have two hours before she’s up again. I need to make the most of it and pack in six weeks’ worth of social life before you go.”

“Okay,” I told her. “But just one. I have to drive and pick up Noah later. I take it you’re enjoying mommyhood?”

“Loving it,” she replied, pouring me a drink in a brightly colored martini glass with a flamingo-shaped stem. “I can’t believe how amazing Ava is. But it’s crazy, too. I had no idea how much work they could be—I still can’t believe you did this when you were seventeen. I couldn’t even find my keys half the time back then, let alone keep track of a baby.”

“Well, sometimes life brings us surprises,” I replied, thinking back to those early days. After Noah, I’d gone to the alternative high school and lived with Ruger’s mom. It hadn’t been easy. “I couldn’t give him up, so I figured it out. What doesn’t kill us, and all that shit.”

I waved my hand airily to illustrate the point.

Kimber burst out laughing, and it was just like high school again. God, I loved her. We made our way out to the backyard, sitting at a tile-topped table under a vine-draped pergola. Her backyard really was gorgeous. Totally different than Ruger’s wild acreage … Kimber had a perfectly manicured little Garden of Eden in the suburbs.

“So, you’re staying with Jesse Gray,” she said, arching a brow. I laughed.

“I haven’t heard him called Jesse since his mom died,” I replied. “He goes by Ruger.”

“Um, yeah,” she said, eyes drifting away from mine as she sipped her drink thoughtfully. “I don’t want to be negative, but is this a good thing? I thought you hated him. I mean, things got bad there before you left … It was an ugly time.”

“Um, ‘hate’ is probably too strong a word for Ruger,” I replied, taking a sip from my flamingo-themed glass. Ugh, way too much tequila. Yuck. She wasn’t kidding about packing in weeks of social life. I set it back down, eyeing the yard speculatively. When she went inside, I’d dump it on a shrub or something.

Did tequila kill shrubs?

“I’d say our relationship is a little tense, though,” I added. “He was kind of a jackass about me coming back to town, but I have to admit, it’s a good move for us. Things weren’t so great in Seattle.”

Kimber made a soothing noise and waved her hand at me.

“You’ll be glad you came back,” she replied. “If nothing else, now you’ll have me around to babysit for you. I promise—no drinking when I’m watching your kid. Scout’s honor.”

“They kicked you out of Scouts.”

“Only the Girl Scouts,” she mused. “Those boys always found room for me in their tents. Seriously, though, Noah’s a great kid, and it’s not like I get to go out and do anything these days anyway. Not that I mind—I’ve had my fun.”

I snickered at that. She didn’t even blush. I wasn’t entirely sure she was joking about the scouts and their tents.

“Speaking of fun …” she said slowly, swirling her drink. “I need to tell you something.”

I glanced over at her, and for the first time since I’d known her, Kimber looked embarrassed.

“What?” I asked, a little nervous.

Nothing embarrassed Kimber.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to spit it out,” she replied, swallowing. “I slept with Ruger three years ago. It was a one-night thing, nothing special. I figured you should know, since I might want to come and hang out at your new place sometime. Full disclosure.”

I gaped at her.

“Why did you sleep with Ruger?”

She cocked a brow at me, eyes knowing.

“Seriously?” she asked, and I flushed. Of course I knew why. “It was before Ryan, so it’s not like I did something wrong. You were still living in Olympia and could hardly stand him long enough to let him see Noah. I thought I was in the clear.”

I looked away from her, trying to process. The thought of her and Ruger felt wrong. In fact, it made me kind of angry. And that was ridiculous, because it wasn’t like I had any business being upset. Not only that, it’d been three years ago. A full year after things fell to shit here, and not even Kimber knew all the details on that one …

Strong or not, I took a big gulp of my margarita, which blazed a nasty, fiery trail down my throat. My lungs spasmed in protest.

“You aren’t planning to do it again, are you?” I asked once I stopped coughing. She burst out laughing and shook her head.

“Of course not!” Kimber sputtered. “For one, I’m married. Remember? You were in the wedding, dumbass … But even if I wasn’t, he’s not a return-trip kind of guy. I mean, I’d have done him again, because he’s that good—trust me—but he’s definitely not the type to stick around. He’s fucked half of Idaho. It was fun, but I don’t get off on being one of many.”

“Do we have to talk about this?” I asked, squirming.

“No, not really,” she said. “But I wanted you to know, just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Well, just in case I come over. It seems weird not to tell you, now that I know you have a thing for him. I didn’t know that when I fucked him, though. I swear. I thought you hated him as much as you hate Zach.”

“I don’t have a thing for him,” I said quickly.

“Don’t bother denying it,” she replied lightly, giving a theatrical shudder. “I can see it in your face when you talk about him, and I get it. He’s one of those guys you just want to shove down and lick all over. Which I did, actually. He’s nasty in bed, too, never tried some of that shit before. Pierced dick. I shit you not.”

My eyes widened and I took another gulp of my drink.

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “Does that mean—wait, no. No. I don’t want to know.”

She burst out laughing.

“The answer to your unasked question is yes,” she said, leering comically. “But you need to stay away from him, babe. No kidding on that one.”

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to be annoyed with Kimber, but you just couldn’t. She was too sweet and crazy to get pissed at.

“I live with him,” I said dryly. “I can’t stay away.”

Her smile faded.

“I guess that’s my point,” she said thoughtfully. “But you can keep your distance in other ways. You need to build your own life and cut out any fantasies of messing around with him, because it won’t end well. If you guys fall into bed one night, you better be ready to wake up and clear out before the next chick shows up. And the next one and the next one and the one after that. That’s just how he is.”

“I know. Pisser, hmmm?”

“Well, it’s not like you have to give up on sex,” Kimber said. “Like I said, I’m stuck at home all the time anyway. Might as well watch Noah so you can go out and get some. You’re hot—guys’ll be crawling all over you. In fact, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“I don’t do setups,” I told her.

“You will,” she replied knowingly. “Trust me, when you see his picture you’ll be all over him. His name is Josh, he works with Ryan, and he’s loaded.”

She turned on her phone, flipped around until she found what she wanted, then handed it over.

Damn. This guy really was hot, in a pretty, clean-cut lawyer kind of way.

“Okay,” I told her.

She burst out laughing and I chugged the rest of the margarita. Ava squawked over the baby monitor and Kimber groaned.

“Fuck my life …”

As Kimber went inside to check on her, I pulled off my sarong and slid down into the pool, considering Kimber’s cute friend. Unfortunately, when I tried to imagine him kissing me, I thought about sucking on Ruger’s lip ring instead. Then I thought about sucking on other things, which wasn’t productive at all.

What exactly did a pierced dick look like, anyway? And how would it feel inside?

I shivered.

Kimber finally got Ava settled and came back outside, jumping into the water with me.

“So, have you started job hunting yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I replied. “Ruger wants to see if there’s something I can do with the club. I’m on the fence about that. Not sure I want to get involved.”

“Well, if your goal is to make good money, the best place to work is The Line.”

“The strip club?” I asked, widening my eyes. Everyone knew about The Line, of course, but I’d never been there.

“Yup. Totally paid for my degree that way,” she replied, leaning back into the water to wet her hair. I gaped as she came back up.

“You worked at a strip club? Stripping? Seriously?”

Kimber laughed.

“No, I worked there valet parking,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I stripped. Made really good money, too. I only had to work two nights a week. It kicked ass.”

“But wasn’t that kind of … icky?” I asked, intrigued. She shrugged.

“Define ‘icky,’” she replied. “I mean, sometimes it was really fun. I liked dancing on the stage and all the flirting. The lap dances weren’t quite as much fun, especially if the guys were old or something. But they aren’t allowed to touch you. At least, not unless you go back into the VIP rooms. All kinds of things happen back there—but only stuff you decide to let happen. Nobody forces you to do anything.”

I turned this information over in my brain, stunned.

“So did you?” I asked, knowing it was rude but completely incapable of not asking.

“What?”

“Go back in the VIP rooms?” I asked, unable to help myself. She giggled.

“Yeah, I did,” she replied. “You don’t have to, but that’s where you earn the most money. Security keeps a pretty close eye on things. It’s not dangerous or anything.”

I stared at her. She stared back, smirking.

“Wow,” I said finally. “I didn’t know that.”

“What? Are you going to get all judgy on me?” she asked. “Fuck that. I’m not ashamed. Ryan knows all about it, too. That’s where I met him.”

“And it didn’t bother him?” I asked, even more startled.

“It would be pretty damned hypocritical if it did,” she said, laughing. “First time he came in, he paid for me all night, and I gotta tell you, we had a damned fine time in that little room all by ourselves … I swear, I fell for him on the spot. He didn’t like the idea of sharing me with any other guys, so I quit the next day. I didn’t want to fuck things up between us, you know?”

“Wow,” I said. “I know I keep saying that, but I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. I hate to be too nosy, but how much were you making?”

She leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“Holy shit!”

“No kidding, right?” she asked. “Now, I worked hard at it, took it seriously. And I didn’t get into drugs. A lot of the girls blow their money on drugs and stupid shit. But the smart ones? They save their cash and retire early. I covered our wedding, our honeymoon, and the down payment on this house. Ava’s got a college fund started, too.”

“Damn,” I murmured. “That’s amazing.”

Kimber laughed.

“Well, it’s not a long-term career,” she said. “But think about it. A regular job keeps you away from Noah forty hours a week, at least. Maybe more. You start stripping, you’re only away from him two nights a week. What’s better? A mom with a lily-white reputation, or one who’s actually around to take care of her kid?”

“Hell of a good point,” I answered, bemused.

“No shit,” she replied. “And consider this—you start making good money, you’ll have your own place in no time. I don’t care how nice Ruger’s house is. So long as he’s living there, you’re up shit creek.”

Hard to argue with that.

PORTLAND, OREGON

RUGER

“I’ve never seen a town with so many damned strip clubs,” Picnic muttered, sipping his beer. Ruger glanced over at his club president and shrugged. It was Wednesday afternoon, but they’d only been awake for a couple hours.

Last night Ruger had found a hot little blonde who’d done her best to make him forget all about his new roommate. Unfortunately, he’d fucked himself over by pretending she was Sophie the entire time he’d pounded her slick pussy.

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but he might’ve called Soph’s name when he came.

Shit, he needed to get a handle on this … But there was just something about the thought of her in his house, all available and at his mercy. It was too much power.

Ruger had never been one of the good guys.

He took a long, deep breath. This was a business trip, so time to pull his head out of his ass. He glanced over to the stage, where a nearly naked woman gyrated lifelessly around the pole. She could’ve been cleaning toilets for all the enthusiasm she showed.

“Too bad they’re more interested in quantity than quality,” Ruger said, nodding toward the stage. “Fire her ass, she worked at The Line.”

Deke gave a snort of laughter. Ruger glanced at him, noting the humor didn’t reach the Portland president’s eyes. Man was dead inside, so far as he could tell. He’d heard that Deke was national’s first choice for enforcement, and he had no trouble believing it. The former marine could probably pull off a hit in his sleep.

Good guy to have at your back in a fight.

“You bastards have it easy up there in Idaho,” Deke said. “Fuckin’ monopoly, so all the talent has to compete to work for you. We got more strip clubs here than anywhere else in the damned country, or so I hear. Market’s saturated, and that means owners gotta take what they can get. Some of these places barely break even. Crazy-ass shit.”

Ruger glanced around the room with new interest. Aside from their table, there couldn’t have been more than six customers total. No, make that seven. Some lucky bastard was getting a hand job back in the far corner.

“So it’s always this empty?” he asked. “That’s fucked up. No wonder she isn’t trying. Why bother?”

“Can’t dance for shit, but at least she gives a hell of a blow job,” Deke responded. “Try her out later if you like. Any of the girls, for that matter.”

Deke glanced over at their waitress, jerking his chin toward their drinks. She carried over a tray of refills, smiling nervously. Ruger eyed her, considering Deke’s offer. The girl wore a black leather bustier, a short, tight skirt, and black fishnets. Long, reddish-brown hair, sort of like Sophie’s. And there his cock went again, getting all hard.

Yeah, this good-guy bullshit wasn’t his gig at all.

Damn, but he’d wanted Soph in his bed a long time. Every inch of her hot little body was burned in his brain, starting that first night he’d seen her screwing Zach in his apartment, which officially classified him as one sick fuck. She’d been sixteen years old and scared shitless, and what’d his response been?

He’d jacked off in the damned shower while she hunted for her panties in his living room. Panties she’d never found, by the way, which he fucking well knew because he still had them. Pink and lacy, innocent as hell, and enough to get his ass thrown into jail back in those days.

Then he’d gone and really fucked things up four years ago, fucked them up so bad her entire life exploded. Not entirely his fault, but he still regretted how he’d handled Zach. Should’ve killed the cocksucker when he had the chance. Even with all his guilt and regret, though, one thing hadn’t changed.

He still jacked off to those panties sometimes.

“Where the fuck is Hunter?” he asked irritably.

Deke narrowed his eyes.

“Like I give a shit?” he answered. “I’m not on board with this. We don’t talk to Jacks. We hurt them. That’s how it’s done—there’s a system.”

Toke, one of the younger Portland guys, nodded in agreement, his face grim. He’d insisted on being part of this meet. Gracie was his old lady these days. Between him and Deke, they were sitting on a fucking powder keg …

“We’re talking to this one,” Picnic said, his voice soft but unyielding. At forty-two, he was the oldest man at the table. He and Deke might have equal rank, but Pic had been around a long time, and when he spoke, men listened. Ruger knew he’d been talked about for national president, but the man wasn’t interested. “Something’s going on. I want to hear what this asshole has to say about it.”

“Fuckin’ simple,” Deke replied. “Little bastards are movin’ in on our territory. You know it, I know it. This shit needs to end.”

Pic shook his head and leaned forward, pale blue eyes intense.

“Doesn’t make sense, brother,” he said. “Four guys living in a house in Portland … Two of them going to fucking school here, like they’re citizens or something. Nomads. You seen them pull a goddamn thing these past nine months?”

Deke sighed, and shook his head.

“Like I said, doesn’t add up,” Pic continued. “We know they’re our enemies. They know it, too. So why the fuck would they be here? Death wish?”

“Setting us up,” Ruger suggested. “Trying to get us to relax? Either that or a mind fuck.”

“Your situation in Seattle, they give you any shit about it?” Pic asked him, although Ruger knew he had the answer already.

“Nope,” he replied. “Fuckwad was theirs to punish, no problem with that. Made our lives easier. Damned civil about it, too.”

“Exactly, and you ever know a Devil’s Jack to be polite?” Picnic continued. “Fuck, didn’t think they knew how. These guys are young—different—and none of us has ever seen them before this year. Roseburg boys say there’ve been dustups in northern Cali. Something’s happening in that club, and for once I think it might not be about screwing us over.”

Deke slammed down a shot, then leaned back, arms crossed, face grim.

“They don’t change,” Toke muttered. “Doesn’t matter what games they’re playing, doesn’t matter who’s in charge, none of it. They’re Jacks and they belong in the ground. Period. Every day they’re livin’ in my town, it eats at me. I want to end it.”

“You got one-track minds, both of you,” Horse said, pulling up a chair to join them. “I swear, we’re goin’ in fuckin’ circles here. Slide just texted. Jacks are in the parking lot. Just the two of ’em, no sign of anyone else. Don’t do anything crazy until we finish talking, okay?”

Toke nodded, eyes narrowed.

Shit, Ruger thought. They shouldn’t have let him come along. Man hated the Devil’s Jacks, and with good reason, but he was like a damned grenade without a pin.

The door opened, bright sunlight framing two figures Ruger recognized. Hunter and Skid—the same bastards who’d come up to collect their former brother in Seattle the weekend before. Both were big, although Hunter was the taller of the two. He was young, probably no more than twenty-four or twenty-five. Nomad, so he didn’t have a home chapter. No official status, but the man carried himself with instinctive authority.

If the Jacks had a serious power-shift in progress, Ruger would bet a thousand bucks Hunter was at the center of it.

The music changed and a new girl strutted out onto the stage. Ms. Personality hopped on down, but she didn’t bother coming over to their table trying to sell lap dances. She might not be enthusiastic about her job, but apparently she wasn’t entirely stupid.

None of them stood as the Jacks approached. Ruger kicked a chair over to Hunter, who caught it with a smile that was anything but friendly. He flipped it backward, straddling it casually. Skid dropped down next to him.

“You ready to talk?” Hunter asked, looking between the men. “I’m Hunter, by the way. With the Devil’s Jacks. Motorcycle club, may have heard of us? This is Skid.”

Deke’s eyes narrowed, and Ruger had to bite back a grin. He wasn’t sure yet if Hunter was an idiot or not, but the kid had balls of fuckin’ brass.

“Picnic,” the Coeur d’Alene president said. “My brothers Deke, Horse, Toke, and Ruger. Deke’s the president here in Portland. Gotta say, he’s a little hurt you haven’t dropped by to introduce yourselves before now. You might not know this, but Portland belongs to the Reapers.”

Hunter held up his hands, palms forward.

“No problems there,” he said. “My rocker says Nomad, not trying to claim Oregon. Your town, your rules.”

“You’re breathing our air,” Deke said, his voice cold. “Generally we charge for that. I think we discussed this with one of your boys last winter. Stayed with us for nearly a week, if I remember right.”

Skid’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth shut. Hunter shrugged.

“These things happen. We get shit’s not good between the Jacks and the Reapers,” he said, his tone mild. “But we’re here today because you helped us out. Been wantin’ to meet up for a while now. This opened the door. We wanted to offer our thanks and talk to you about a truce. Asshole you handed over up in Seattle—he was a problem for us. Serious problem, more than you realize. Now the problem’s gone. We appreciate the gesture, that’s all.”

“Really?” Deke asked. “Because we’ve got some problems, too. You truly appreciate the favor, we could use some help resolving those. You get me?”

Hunter’s eyes darkened.

“Yeah, I get you,” he replied. “That was a bad business—”

“No, that was my niece,” Deke said, slamming his hand down on the table. “Cute kid. Never gonna have kids of her own, though, what with the way your boys ripped her up from the inside out. Spent a year on a fuckin’ psych ward. Still scared to leave her house.”

Toke grunted, pulling out his knife and laying it on the table. Hunter leaned forward, his face every bit as intense as Deke’s. He ignored the knife.

“That problem’s been solved,” he said. “We offered proof.”

“Proof wasn’t good enough,” Deke replied. “Dead is easy. They needed to suffer, and I needed to be the one making them suffer. You stole that from me.”

Hunter glanced at his friend, then nodded to the waitress, gesturing for her to come over. She approached their group cautiously, clearly reading the tension.

“Another round for the table,” Hunter told her. She scuttled off, and silence fell. The girl returned with the drinks, and Hunter picked up his beer, sipping it thoughtfully. Ruger joined him, wondering how this would play out. He’d stand by Deke and Toke—still his brothers, right or wrong—but attacking some kid who’d had nothing to do with the incident wouldn’t accomplish much. Finally, Skid spoke.

“Things are changing with the Jacks,” he said. “Lot of things in play. What happened to your niece? There’s no excuse for that and no way we’re trying to say it was okay. None of us were down with it, and we took care of the men involved. Only two were our brothers. The rest were hangarounds, and all of them are gone now.”

“We should’ve brought them to you,” Hunter added. “We get that now. At the time, we just took care of business, because your girl was the last straw in a much bigger, much uglier situation, so wrap your head around that. Figured we’d minimize your risk and haul out our own garbage. I can’t travel back and fix what happened to her. Can’t give you a shot at them, either. It’s done. What I can do is try to move forward, make sure it never happens again. We’re tired of this.”

“Tired of what?” Picnic asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Tired of putting time and energy into fighting Reapers when we should be focused on more important things.”

“Funny, you weren’t feeling all peaceful last December,” Horse put in. “My woman was in danger. I don’t appreciate assholes like yourselves threatening my property.”

Hunter sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Times change,” he said finally. “We all know that. Some of our guys, they’re a little slow, clinging to the past. That was their play, and it was a fuckin’ stupid one. But most of my brothers and me, we’re looking to the future. Fighting you is a waste of time and energy. Used to be we were in the minority on that one. Now we’re not, so I’m opening the door. This wasn’t an easy meeting to arrange, but we all put down our guns and came here today. That’s a start.”

“I didn’t put down my gun,” Deke rumbled.

Hunter smiled, shaking his head.

“Jesus, you’re a hardass,” he told Deke. “Respect. But seein’ as I’m still alive right now, I think my point stands. We’re talking, not shooting. Gotta be a record.”

“That’s your play?” Picnic asked, openly skeptical. “You had some kind of revolution back home, so now you’re here tryin’ to make peace? Lemme guess, you think we should all just hug and make up, maybe swap some recipes, organize a potluck?”

Hunter laughed, his body language so relaxed it was almost insulting. Didn’t he realize they could take him in a heartbeat?

Yeah, Ruger decided. He knew it.

He just didn’t care, and a man who’d stopped caring was dangerous as fuck.

“Cut the shit,” Ruger said suddenly. “What do you want?”

Hunter leaned forward and met his eyes, voice serious.

“I’m here because we’ve been losing territory and influence for years, and it’s getting worse. We got boys coming up from the south, out of L.A., and they’re looking to expand. We need to be fighting them, but we’re fighting you instead. So far as I can tell, we’re doing it out of habit like a bunch of damned monkeys who can’t figure out something better to do,” he added.

“Swattin’ flies isn’t habit, it’s housekeeping,” Deke rumbled. “Same with killin’ Jacks.”

Hunter shook his head.

“Tell me this,” he said. “Your niece, that was some bad shit. But before her, Reapers killed three of our guys in Redding. Two of those guys had kids. You remember that?”

“Assuming it happened—which for the record, I don’t acknowledge—it’s probably because they attacked our guys the night before,” Picnic said. “Preemptive self-defense.”

“Your guys were down there to steal one of our shipments,” Hunter said flatly. “And they burned down our clubhouse while they were at it. Why’d they do that?”

Picnic shrugged.

“Dunno. I wasn’t in on that decision,” Picnic admitted. “That was all Roseburg.”

“Yet we’re prepared to fight and kill each other over it,” Hunter said. “And each time we strike back, it gets worse. Sooner or later we’re gonna kill each other off completely, which is exactly what the gangs down south want. Our clubs, we got history between us, and it’s not good. But we’re the same kind—we know what it means to be brothers. Men like us, we live to ride, and ride to live. Fuck the world.”

Ruger nodded, acknowledging the point.

“Now we’re seeing boys movin’ north, boys who aren’t part of a brotherhood … and I mean boys—they got kids workin’ the streets can’t be more than ten years old,” Hunter continued. “These children are takin’ orders from generals who don’t get their hands dirty, let alone throw down for them. They don’t get to vote, they don’t get to think, and they don’t even know why they’re fighting. They’re a threat to our way of life, yours and mine. I’m tired of putting time and energy into worrying about Reapers when every time I turn around some high school dropout’s takin’ potshots at me. I just want to ride my fuckin’ bike and get laid.”

Ruger glanced at Picnic. His face was thoughtful, although his expression didn’t give away a thing. Horse grunted, polishing off his drink.

“I’m not the only one who feels that way,” Hunter said. “Lot of my brothers, we’re tired of this war. Those same brothers are moving up in their chapters, thinking maybe it’s time for us to be on the same side in this little game. It’s about values and what we stand for. We’re brothers and we ride, all the rest is details. These fuckers, though … Deep down inside, there’s nothing there. We gotta stop them before it’s too late. I can’t do that if I’m fighting a war on two fronts.”

“Enough,” Deke growled. “You’re a little fuckwad and you don’t know jack. What’s gone down between us, that shit doesn’t go away just because you and your boyfriends decide you’re scared of someone new moving in on your territory. You wanted a war with the Reapers and now you’ve got it. We’re going to kill you. All of you. Might take a while. I’m patient.”

“Deke—” Picnic said, his voice low and full of unmistakable command. “What they did to Gracie can’t be fixed, brother. But the bastards paid and now they’re gone. The more we fight, the more likely some other girl’s gonna get hurt. I got two daughters. Peace between clubs isn’t always a bad thing. Especially when the cartel’s movin’ in. I hear stories …”

“We know you got two daughters,” Hunter told Picnic, eyes narrowing. “In fact, we know a hell of a lot more than you’d like. We know because there’s guys in my club who think we should strike, think we can use the cartel to throw you off balance. They called the shots last December, but they aren’t in control right now and I’d like to keep it that way. You got two choices here … First one is nut up and work with me to control this new threat. We pull that off, everyone goes home happily ever after, shittin’ rainbows and dancin’ with unicorns. Second choice is keep fighting with each other until they take us all out. You want that? Fine. I’m not scared to bring it. But consider this … You got daughters you care about. One’s up in Bellingham, other’s in Coeur d’Alene. Pretty girls, which I know ’cause I’ve seen ’em for myself. Recently.”

“You leave my girls out of this,” Picnic said, reaching for his gun. Ruger’s hand flashed out, catching him.

“Hear him out,” he murmured.

Hunter grinned, the expression feral.

“You should worry, old man,” he continued. “Because I guarantee those cocksuckers down south won’t care how pretty those girls are when they give the order to shoot them down in the street like dogs. Now me? I don’t even own a fuckin’ goldfish. At the end of the day, who’s got more to lose here? You call me when you’re ready to talk.”

With that Hunter stood up, shoving away his chair. Deke flushed, but Picnic’s face could’ve been carved from stone. Hunter thew a handful of bills on the table and walked out the door.

“He’s fuckin’ with us,” Toke said. “Cartel’s got fuck all to do with us up here. He’s losing territory. That’s not our problem.”

“You really think they can hold out?” Ruger asked him. “Cartel’s got a thousand kids ready and waitin’ to die, every one of them so hungry for glory they’ll shoot their own mothers. Jacks are tough bastards, but they’ll be fucked if they can’t shut them down before they get a foothold. We would be, too, and you know it. Those gangs exist for one reason—to make money. We let them take over, we’ll lose our territory and our freedom. No fuckin’ point in breathing without that. Not to mention the cartel doesn’t care where they shit or who they kill. You want them here in Portland?”

“This is big,” Picnic said slowly. “Bigger than we can decide here. We’ll get the brothers together, make sure we’re all on board. Take it from there.”

“I’ll never make peace with the Jacks,” Toke muttered. “You want peace, you’ll go through me to get it.”

“That a threat?” Ruger asked. He respected the hell out of Toke, but it wasn’t his decision to make. “I hate the thought of taking on a brother, but don’t think I won’t. We’re in this together, Toke. That means we make the call as a group.”

“You think you could take me?” Toke asked, cocking a brow.

“Only one way to find out,” Ruger replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “But I tell you one thing. We start fightin’ with each other, the cartel wins. Keep your eyes on the prize, brother. We make peace with the Jacks, they’re our buffer. That lets us put our energy into makin’ money and gettin’ laid. We give it a shot and it falls apart, least we’ll pick up some good intel along the way. Make it easier to go after ’em, the time comes.”

Toke took a deep breath, then let it out, visibly forcing himself to calm down.

“I’ll never forgive them for what they did,” he said. “Jesus, she’s still so fucked up. You got no idea.”

“You damned well shouldn’t,” Horse told him, voice serious. “What happened can’t be undone, and the assholes who did it deserved to die. Good news is, they did. Think ahead. We turn the Jacks into allies, we’ll own half the west coast with the Jacks as a line of defense between us and the cartel. That’s somethin’ we should consider.”

“I’ll settle for protecting my girls,” Picnic muttered. “Fuckin’ asshole knows where they are, maybe’s even watching them. You know what that means?”

“Means nobody’s safe,” Horse said softly. “And he’s damned right about one thing—in our world, we don’t fuck with citizens, so long as they show respect. We keep our towns safe and control what gets in. I know the Jacks did your niece, Deke, but she got as much justice as they could give. The cartel, though … They’re shootin’ women and children, and they don’t give a fuck who they kill so long as they get their money. No values. I’ll take the Jacks over them anytime.”

“If they’re telling us the truth,” Ruger said. “Remember—they lie. We need information.”

“Time to call the brothers together,” Pic said. “No help for it. You want to host, Deke?”

“Do it in Coeur d’Alene,” the Portland president replied, shaking his head. “We got nothin’ like the Armory. Whatever else the Jacks might be, they aren’t magic. We meet at the Armory, we’ll have space to talk. I’ll start making calls.”