Reaper's Fire
Page 48

I glanced toward the dance floor, pretending I hadn’t been watching her from the moment she’d come in. “Sure looks like her.”
“You hit that yet?”
Shooting a glance at him, I tried to decide if it was a trick question. “No, I like ’em younger.”
“Like my sister.”
“Like your sister,” I agreed, a bad feeling growing in my gut. Marsh’s hand jerked, and for an instant I wondered if he was going for a gun. Then he slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to slosh the drinks, laughter bursting out.
“Gotcha, Coop,” he said gleefully. “Christ, that was easy. Talia’s big enough to make her own choices. She fucks who she wants and that’s got nothin’ to do with business. But I find out you’ve been lying to me about anything? Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ skin you myself.”
Jesus. This guy was a goddamned lunatic.
“Here’s your beer,” Talia said sweetly, handing each of us a bottle before settling down into my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and cuddled into me like a kitten.
“We’re goin’ down to the car show in Ellensburg tomorrow,” Marsh told her, eyes on the dance floor.
“Sounds like fun,” she said. “I’ll ride with Coop.”
Marsh shot me a glance, then shook his head.
“Nope, you follow in the truck with the other girls,” he said. “Behind the pack.”
She gave a pretty pout as my mind raced. He’d been talking about Hands like he was a traitor, but he’d also threatened me. Throw in the fact that I knew damned well Hands was dead, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of trap. Had he figured out who I was? Hell, even if he hadn’t, crazy fucker got more paranoid every day. This game was getting dangerous.
“Babe, I gotta step outside,” I said, pushing Talia off my lap gently as I held up my phone. “It’s my mom. She wants me to call back. Probably nothing, but you know how it is.”
Nodding at Marsh, I made for the door. The band was on another break between sets, and looking around I saw Carrie and her other friend, but no Tinker.
No sign of the guitar player, either.
Stepping out into the parking lot, I headed away from the building, stabbing the phone with my finger. Picnic answered on the second ring.
“Just a heads-up—Marsh Jackson figured out that our old friend, Hands, was an informant, but he’s got no clue he’s already dead and gone. Jackson’s strung out and unreliable. I can’t decide if he had real intel on the situation, or if it was just a lucky guess. Now he tells me we’re headin’ down to Ellensburg tomorrow. Wants to deliver some goods and hunt down Hands. Thinks he’s gonna be there.”
Picnic didn’t answer for a minute, then said, “You think he’s onto you? Because I got no clue why he’d think Hands would be there. Man’s gone. Like he never existed.”
I considered the question carefully.
“Fuck if I know, but I don’t think he’s pegged me yet,” I finally replied. “But the fucker’s paranoid as hell, more than when I first got to town. Every time I see him, he’s using more. For all I know he’s hallucinating giant pink bunnies hungry for blood.”
Picnic snorted.
“Christ, I can’t believe such a good club could fall so far,” he said. “You need anything from us?”
“No, but keep your phone handy. Is Painter still getting out of jail tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he said. “The old ladies are planning a big party for him. He’s head over heels for Melanie, London’s girl. She’s been in to visit him almost every day. I got a feeling we won’t be seeing much of him.”
“Never saw that one coming,” I said, biting back a laugh. “You think it’s the real thing this time?”
“Fuck if I know,” Picnic said. “But he better watch himself. London’s one hell of a mama bear, and I got the feeling she won’t be nice if he hurts her little cub. We’ll have church first thing in the morning, though. I’ll update everyone, make sure they stay sober enough for action until we get the all clear.”
“Appreciate that,” I said. “Okay, gotta head back in.”
“Hey, Gage?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t think we don’t see what you’re doing for the club,” my president said, his voice dead serious for once. “We won’t forget this.”
“Just don’t forget to stay sober, because I might need you soon,” I told him bluntly. “And make sure you’re ready to ride. I got a real bad feeling about this one. I know we need more intel and I’ll hold out as long as I can, but something’s changed. Marsh is on the edge. Nothing would surprise me at this point.”
• • •
Sitting back and watching as the guitar player eye-fucked Tinker on Friday night was just the beginning of one of the longest, shittiest weekends of my life.
Marsh dragged us all out of the bar around midnight, forcing me to leave Tinker with Joel. The thought of that guitar-playing bastard sinking into her hot, sweet pussy while I sat around with my thumb up my ass was almost more than I could stand.
I considered calling it off.
Considered telling Marsh to fuck himself, then walking across the bar and claiming my woman. I’d have done it, too, if the Reapers had been at full strength to back me up. We had a lot of information already, and if it wasn’t quite as much as we’d hoped for, such is life.
Then I forced myself to think about what would happen if I did.
My brothers would be in unfamiliar territory, and with Marsh’s hangarounds they’d be outnumbered. Ultimately, I knew the Coeur d’Alene Reapers were tougher than those little fuckweasels. We’d take them in the end, that I knew for a fact.
The real question was how many of us would find ourselves in the morgue along the way. Could I justify risking my brothers’ lives over a woman who didn’t even know my real name?
The Portland and Bellingham brothers were still down in Cali. If I made the call, the Coeur d’Alene brothers would come. Period. That’s just how it worked in our world. But with that kind of loyalty comes the understanding that a man doesn’t make the call unless he’s run out of options.
Deal with it, asshole. It is what it is.