Reaper's Fire
Page 35

I never claimed to be a decent, healthy kind of guy.
That’s when I should’ve let her go, but instead I shoved my hips deeper into Tinker’s, breath hissing as her softness cradled my swollen cock. Oh fuck. My balls burned, they were so full and ready for her. Jerking her hands up and over her head, I caught both of them in one of mine, freeing the other to dig into her hair.
Tinker stilled, eyes wide.
“You bikers are a bunch of fucking bullies,” she whispered, licking her lips nervously. I leaned forward, ready to take what I wanted when the words caught me.
You bikers.
Bikers.
Plural.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
My hand tightened in her hair and she squawked, turning pale. Shit. I loosened my fingers slightly, enough to hold her without hurting her, then studied her face.
“I’m gonna ask you a question and you will answer honestly,” I said. “Got it?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Did something happen to make you run off to Seattle?”
“Yeah, I have a business,” she snapped. “Sorry, Cooper, but the whole fucking world doesn’t revolve around you and your motorcycle club.”
“You talkin’ about the Nighthawk Raiders?” I asked carefully, my anger growing. This was about more than a kiss. Had Talia threatened her? Or sent one of Marsh’s bullyboys to terrorize my girl?
I’d fucking strangle them with my bare hands.
“Well, we don’t have a bunch of Shriners running around town on mopeds scaring the hell out of people, so yeah, I’m talking about the Nighthawks,” she said. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Cooper. Not. One. Thing. Now, let me go and get the hell out of my house.”
They’d done something to her, it was obvious.
Killing rage filled me. Jesus fucking Christ, I’d put those fuckers in the ground. My hands must have tightened again, because Tinker gave a small, pained whimper. I let her go abruptly, stepping back before I did something truly stupid. She lowered her hands, rubbing her wrists. Great. I’d hurt her.
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
Tinker glared.
“Here’s a little story for you,” she said after a long pause. “I was stupid enough to take someone at face value and hire him to work for me. Then I was even stupider, because when he casually invited me over for dinner I said yes, even though I knew he had a vicious skank of a girlfriend. Then he threatened me with the IRS because he’s a giant, raging asshole. End of story. Now I’m driving to Seattle to use my cooking equipment. I’ve made a lot of mistakes this past month, but at least I’m smart enough not to make the same mistakes twice in a row. Get the fuck out of my house.”
“You heard her. Time to go.”
I spun around to find Tom Garrett standing in the dining room, pointing a shotgun at us. Fucking hell—if he pulled the trigger right now, he’d catch me and Tinker. I raised my hands, hoping he hadn’t completely lost touch with reality.
“Dad, will you please put down the gun?” Tinker asked, her voice shaking.
“This boy needs to treat you with respect,” he said. “It’s a good thing your mother isn’t home. She wouldn’t let him get off this easy. Time for you to walk away, boy. You leave her alone at school, too—if I hear you’ve been bothering her, I’ll come and find you. Got it?”
Well, shit. Guess I had my answer about his state of mind. I glanced at Tinker, whose face had gone white.
“I understand and agree,” I told him, backing away from her, because if the old man actually decided to pull that trigger, no reason for both of us to die. “I’m gonna walk to the door, okay?”
“At least he can follow directions,” Tom said, shaking his head as I moved across the room, still facing him.
“Daddy, I’m going to come stand next to you, all right?” Tinker asked, her voice shaking. “Then I want you to give me the gun.”
She started toward him, smart enough to follow the wall, well out of his line of fire. I kept backing toward the door, holding his gaze the entire time, trying to figure out my next move. I couldn’t just walk out of there and leave Tinker alone with him.
Knowing our luck, he’d forget who she was and shoot her.
“Mr. Garrett, I promise I won’t bother your daughter anymore,” I said carefully, trying to look harmless. Not so easy when you’re six-three and weigh more than two hundred pounds, but I gave it my best. “Here’s the thing . . . I’m not comfortable with Tinker in the same room as the gun. She looks kinda scared to me. Seeing as I’m already at the door, you think you could break that shotgun open so she can relax?”
Tom glanced at Tinker, who’d almost reached him.
“You worried, honey?”
“Daddy, you know how much Mama hates it when you have a loaded gun in the house, especially around me.”
He nodded slowly, lowering the weapon.
Thank you, Jesus. Owe you one for that.
“I appreciate it, Dad,” she said, glancing toward me. Whatever anger she’d been feeling before, it was gone. Now there was only sadness. I waited as her father broke the gun open, folding the barrel down. Tinker reached for it, slinging it over her arm in a way that told me this wasn’t the first time she’d handled a weapon.
Woman was full of surprises.
“You can go now,” she said, looking exhausted. I nodded.
Fucking weird day.
 
 
CHAPTER NINE
 

TINKER I carried the shotgun upstairs with the breech still open, my pulse racing. I’d never seen my father point a weapon at another person before, not in my entire life. How much crazier could this day get? I wanted to sit on the couch and cry or maybe smash something. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to fall apart.
First thing, I needed to make sure every gun in the house was locked up.
Then I needed to track down Cooper before he told anyone what’d happened. I wasn’t sure how to handle my father, but I didn’t want anyone else stepping in and forcing decisions on us, either. This was family business and I’d be damned if I’d feed the town gossips any more ammunition.
What if Cooper files charges against him?
Maybe I could claim self-defense or something. I mean, there’d been a reason Dad had gone for the shotgun—Cooper had probably assaulted me, at least technically. But by the time Dad pulled the gun on him, there hadn’t been any danger. He’d already let me go, and who knew what a judge would do, especially if he heard my father testify.