Reaper's Fire
Page 9

Talia rolled her eyes, sliding down my body until her feet touched the floor. Then she reached up, straightening my hair.
Like a pet.
“No, he’s the biker,” she corrected. “He’s the president of the Nighthawk Raiders—that means he owns this fucking town. If you plan to stick around—even as an independent—you don’t want him pissed off at you.”
“Really?” I asked, raising a brow. “And what happens if he gets pissed at me?”
She shrugged, the gesture playful. “Not sure. You’d have to ask my last boyfriend.”
I laughed. “And let me guess—nobody knows what happened to him?”
Her eyes sparkled.
“How’d you figure it out?” she asked, a hint of steel in her voice. “It’s a bit of a mystery. One night he cheated on me, and the next he was just gone. It was a real shame, because he had a kid and everything.”
I smiled adoringly at the sociopathic little bitch. At least there wasn’t any danger of feeling guilty about using her to infiltrate the club—cunt had a gift for killing off even the slightest hint of empathy.
“Sounds like a loser,” I replied. “You’re better off without him.”
Talia giggled, fluttering her lashes.
“I know.”
We spent the next two hours playing bullshit games. It went a little something like this:
Talia would drop hints that she and her girls were thirsty.
I’d buy a round for the table.
I’d dance with her for a song.
Repeat.
Necessary groundwork, no getting around that. Didn’t mean I enjoyed it. The girl was a fucking mess—raging bitch one minute, insecure little princess the next. At one point she dragged me into the alley behind the bar for a blow job, which I guess was okay, but the entire time all I could think about was how much I wanted it to be over.
Then the Nighthawk Raiders showed up, and everything changed.
I clocked sixteen of them, not counting whatever prospects they might’ve left outside with the bikes. They strolled into the bar around midnight, talking and laughing loudly, instantly dominating the room. Marsh was a big guy, and I’d seen him around town a couple times. Built like a bull, with long, dark blond hair in a ratty ponytail. The Nighthawks made their way to the back, followed by two waitresses loaded down with pitchers of beer.
Clearly they were regulars.
“C’mon,” Talia said, catching my hand and dragging me across the room. “Marsh wants to meet you.”
I felt them sizing me up as I approached. This was strange—usually I was the one men approached, not the other way around. The Reapers owned Washington State, even if Marsh seemed to have forgotten that. Hell, he’d have recognized me if he’d done his part and paid his respects at the Armory like every other club president living in our territory.
Cockwad.
“Marsh, this is Cooper,” Talia said. “You remember I told you about him? He’s new to town. I met him and his cousin earlier this week.”
Marsh leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looked me over. I saw him take in my POW/MIA belt buckle, Harley T-shirt, and hair tied back.
“I hear you’re a biker,” he said flatly. I nodded, meeting his gaze.
“Yup, independent,” I replied. “New to town.”
“Where’d you come from?”
“No one place. My ex and the kids are down in Ellensburg. Needed somewhere to land that was close enough to see them, but far enough I don’t have to see them too much. Pulling my shit together after the divorce.”
“Cooper’s a long-haul trucker,” Talia said, giving her brother a sweet smile. “He’s staying at the hotel for now, but he’s looking for a place. I was wondering if any of the trailers out by the clubhouse were empty.”
Yeah, no fucking way I wanted that—we needed me to get close, but not too close. One mistake and I’d find my throat slit.
“I found a place,” I told her. “Tinker Garrett hired me today—I’m her new handyman. It comes with an apartment.”
Talia sneered. “That old bitch has a stick up her ass.”
One of the guys laughed, and I glanced at his colors for a name. Cord.
“Sounds like someone’s jealous,” he said to me, nodding toward Talia. “Tinker’s prime snatch. Let us know what you think if you get a taste. I saw this—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Talia snarled. “That cunt is nothing. Nothing.”
“Not what I hear,” Cord replied, eyes hardening. “You see that ass of hers? I’d tap that. Sounds like someone’s jealous.”
“Shut up,” Marsh growled, echoing his sister. Cord stared him down without blinking, and I realized not all the Nighthawks were happy with the current situation. Good to know. Their little standoff lasted for almost a minute, and I felt the tension growing.
Then Marsh burst out laughing.
“We need a drink,” he announced. “Talia, go get us a round of shots. On me.”
She looked between us for a minute, obviously frustrated, then caught my hand.
“C’mon,” she muttered. “Fucking assholes.”
Her brother roared with laughter again, and the rest of them copied like a bunch of hyenas. Not all of them, though. Cord and a couple others weren’t laughing at all.
So.
Now I’d met all my targets, and maybe found some future allies.
I could work with this.
 
 
CHAPTER THREE
 

TINKER Cooper didn’t have time to move that weekend after all, so I ended up dropping off a set of keys for him at his hotel on Saturday afternoon. Coincidentally, I happened to be dressed in my finest because I’d made plans to meet Margarita for dinner in Ellensburg that night. (She’d driven over for a conference presentation earlier in the day at Central Washington University.) Not that my looks mattered—I knew Cooper was interested in Talia. Still, a woman’s got her pride, and I hadn’t exactly been at my best when he’d seen me yesterday.
I’d texted him to let him know I was on the way, and he met me out in the hotel parking lot, looking sexy as ever.
It wasn’t fair, I decided as he swaggered over to my car. If I was smart, I’d have handed him the keys and pulled out of the parking lot, but instead I stepped out of my Mustang in a way that couldn’t help but draw attention to the fact that my skirt was very, very short. Oh, and it was a total coincidence that I’d opted for a push-up bra, I reminded myself, even as I savored the way his eyes went straight to my chest.