Reaper's Legacy
Page 8

“Will I get to have it in my room?” Noah asked, his excitement kicking up a notch, voice growing shrill. “I want lots of movies. I want to watch it every night. Mom doesn’t let me watch very much TV and—”
“Just for the car,” Ruger snapped. Noah’s face fell. Ruger glanced back in the mirror and grimaced. “Sorry, little man. Didn’t mean to yell at you … Uncle Ruger is kinda tired. Think we could keep it quiet until we get to the store? Please?”
The poor man was clearly desperate. I bit my tongue, looking out the passenger-side window, trying not to laugh.
“Shut up, Sophie.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I heard you thinkin’.”
I started giggling. I couldn’t help it. Soon Noah joined in, filling the car with his happy noise.
Ruger stared straight ahead at the road, face grim.
If I were a better woman, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much.
I had to admit the silence was refreshing.
Noah was a fantastic kid, but his mouth didn’t have an off switch. Ruger had gotten him a little DVD player that strapped to the back of the passenger seat and plugged into the car. Combined with Star Wars headphones and four new movies, the trip was already a thousand times more tolerable.
I waited until Ruger’s fingers stopped clenching the steering wheel so hard they turned white before I opened the conversation.
“We need to talk.”
He glanced toward me.
“Never good words, comin’ from a woman.”
“I’m sorry if it’s not convenient,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “But we’ve got to figure some things out. At least, I need to figure some things out. What’s the plan once we’re back in Coeur d’Alene?”
“You’re moving into my basement,” he said. He reached back and rubbed his shoulder with one hand. “Shit, I’m all knotted up here. That’s what I get for driving all goddamned night.”
I ignored the comment and pushed ahead.
“I know the basement part,” I continued. “But I’m going to have to figure some other things out, too. Noah needs to get registered for school. It starts a week from tomorrow back home. Do you know when it starts in Coeur d’Alene?”
“No idea,” he replied.
“Do you know what school he’ll be going to?”
“Nope.”
“Did you think about schools at all?”
“I didn’t think about anything other than getting him safe and hurtin’ the f**kers who nearly killed him. That’s fixed, so from here on out you’re in charge.”
“Okay,” I muttered, leaning back in my seat. I put my bare feet up on the dashboard, knees bent. I enjoyed not having to drive. Noah and I weren’t like most families, where the adults could take turns on a road trip. “I’ll take care of that. The next thing to worry about is a job. You have any idea what the market is like right now?”
“Nope,” he said again.
“You’re not the most helpful person.”
“It’s not like I planned this, babe,” he replied. “I got a phone call last night, I called Horse for backup and we left. That’s it. Haven’t had time to do a damned thing since then. If I’d known about this shit ahead of time, I would’ve hurt the f**kers preemptively. I’m doin’ this on the fly, Sophie.”
I felt my snark die. He was right, which wasn’t fair. Again. Ruger was always right. It didn’t make any sense, because so far as I could tell he lived life without a second thought for the future. I scrimped and saved and planned and worked, yet I still couldn’t get any traction.
“Might be able to arrange something for you with the club.”
I looked at him and frowned.
“I appreciate all you’ve done for me and Noah,” I said slowly. “I even appreciate what you and Horse did earlier. I don’t care that it was a crime. But that’s where I stop, Ruger. I don’t want to get involved in any more illegal things. I won’t be your drug runner or something.”
Ruger burst out laughing.
“Jesus, Sophie,” he said. “What the hell do you think I do all day? Fuck, my life’s not even close to that interesting.”
I had no idea what to say.
“I’m a gunsmith and security expert,” he continued, shaking his head. “This should not be a surprise to you, seein’ as I’ve wired up your apartments over and over. I spend most of my time repairing firearms in a perfectly legal shop the club runs. I design and install custom security systems on the side, ’cause I get off on that shit. Lotta rich f**kers with summer homes on the lake. All of ’em need security and I’m more’n happy to take their money.”
“Wait—they let a motorcycle gang run a gun shop?” I asked, startled. “I didn’t know that part. I’ll bet the cops love that.”
“First, we’re a club, not a gang,” he said. “And the store is technically owned by one guy. Slide. Been a brother for fifteen years. But we all pitch in and it’s a group effort. Having him hold the deed makes the paperwork easier, given the type of business. I apprenticed with him.”
“So this gun shop is one hundred percent above the table?” I asked skeptically. “And people actually pay you to install their security. Aren’t they afraid you’ll be the one breaking in?”
“I’m damned good at what I do,” he replied, smiling. “Not exactly forcing ’em to hire me. You want to see the gun shop, come check it out. Check out any of the businesses.”
“You have more than one?”
“Got a strip club, a pawnshop, and a garage,” he said. “Lot of the guys work in those, but we got civilian employees, too.”
“And what do you see me doing, if I worked for the Reapers?” I asked, considering the strip club.
“I don’t know what we need,” he said, shrugging. “Not even sure there’s an opening. We’ll have to check and see. But it’d be good for you. Got health care plans and shit.”
“So you guys don’t do anything illegal? It’s all legitimate?”
“You think I’d tell you if we were doing something illegal?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Um, no?”
He laughed.
“Exactly. So it doesn’t really matter what I tell you anyway, because you wouldn’t believe it. Club business is for club members. Seeing as you’re not a member, it’s not your problem. All you need to know is I’m trying to help you here. If there’s a job you’re qualified for, it’ll be yours. If not, no big deal.”
“Ruger, don’t take this personally, but I don’t want to work for your club at all, even if there’s an opening,” I replied. “You know I’ve never wanted anything to do with the Reapers. You and Horse helped me and I appreciate it, but nothing’s changed. I don’t agree with your lifestyle. I don’t want Noah around your friends, either. I don’t think it’s a good environment for a child.”
“You’ve never even met them. Kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” I said, looking away. “But I’m going to do the best I can for Noah, and hanging out with a bunch of criminals isn’t part of that. I don’t believe for a minute that there isn’t something shady going on with you guys.”
Ruger’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Great. Now I’d insulted him.
“Considering your folks haven’t talked to you in seven years, your son’s father needs a restraining order, and you can’t hold down a job or provide for your child, seems to me like you aren’t in a position to be calling us anything,” he told me, voice tight. Friendly Ruger was gone. “Lotta things happen at the clubhouse. Some of those things run deep, no question. Might scare you. But I’ll tell you one thing. When one of our own is in trouble, we don’t kick ’em out in the street. More than I can say about your daddy. He’s the model citizen and we’re the criminals, but shit goes down, I can count on my brothers. You got anyone you can say that about? Besides me? Because deep down in my heart, in my guts, in my f**kin’ DNA, I’m a Reaper, Sophie. Still sure we aren’t good enough for you?”
I caught my breath, hating how my eyes filled with moisture. Bringing up my folks was a cheap shot. I tried to ignore the tears, refusing to blink and let them fall. Then my nose started running and I sniffed.
“That was low, Ruger.”
“That was true, Sophie. You wanna be all high and mighty, you need to find another target. Your ass is gettin’ saved by me, and behind me stands the club. If you were with the Reapers, Noah’d be surrounded by adults who care about him. Lot of kids in the club, Soph. They go home when things get wild, but lemme tell you—somethin’ like this happened in Coeur d’Alene to one of our kids, I’d have to fight my brothers for the privilege of killin’ the guy. That’s family, Sophie. And Noah could use some of that family around him.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Then don’t talk,” he replied. “But listen up. I get that you don’t want to be part of club life. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna force the point, because if you’re gonna be a stuck-up bitch I wouldn’t want you around them anyway.”
“Stop it!”
“Shut the f**k up and listen,” he snapped. “This is important. Love the club, hate the club, you need to be aware of a few things, because they’re part of your reality now. The ass**le that hurt Noah, you saw the ink on his back, right?”
“Yes,” I replied, wishing him straight to hell.
“Called a back patch,” he continued. “It’s his club colors, right on his skin. Club colors are what we wear on our cuts—our vests, call ’em rags, too—and they say a lot about a man. In this case, those colors said he was part of the Devil’s Jacks. Lotta MCs out there, good and bad, but the Jacks are one of the worst. Reapers and Jacks are enemies. Things worked out this time, but you run into a guy with colors like that again, you need to tell me. I’ll still go after him, but I’ll call in more backup first. This morning it all worked out. Next time it might not. You got me?”
I shrugged, looking away. Ruger growled in frustration.
“I don’t think you get me, Soph,” he said. “Let me tell you a little story. Got a brother named Deke, down in the Portland chapter. Deke’s got a niece named Gracie—his old lady’s sister’s kid. She had jack shit to do with the Reapers, by the way. So Gracie went off to college down in northern Cali three years ago and started dating a guy who turned out to be a hangaround with the Jacks.”
I looked over at him, unnerved. He stared straight ahead, face grim.
“So little Gracie went to a party with him and a bunch of guys raped her, one right after the next,” he said. “You ever heard of a train?”
I stared at him and swallowed.
“Believe it or not, some women are down with that,” he continued. “Gracie isn’t one of them, and they were not gentle. They tore her up so bad she’ll never have kids. Then they carved a ‘DJ’ into her forehead and dumped her in a ditch. Deke found out when they sent him pictures they took of her with her own f**kin’ phone. Tried to kill herself. She’s doin’ better now, engaged to one of the brothers in the Portland chapter. Did I mention they aren’t nice guys?”
He fell silent. I thought about the two men I’d met earlier, Hunter and Skid.
“What happened to the men who did it?” I asked hesitantly. “Were they … were those guys you were talking to …?”
“It was four hangarounds and two Jacks,” he told me. “Good news is, they won’t be hurtin’ any more girls. Hunter and Skid weren’t part of that particular mess, which still doesn’t qualify them as decent human beings. So let me ask you again—you got me, Soph?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, feeling sick.
Silence fell. Noah started laughing at his video in the backseat. Ruger drove, jaw muscle tight, staring straight ahead. Gracie’s story played over and over in my head, along with what he’d said earlier.
“I’m not a stuck-up bitch.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“I have a right to keep my son away from your club.”
“That why you left Coeur d’Alene?”
“You know damned well why I left Coeur d’Alene,” I said, hating him. “And that’s the second time you’ve called me a bitch. Don’t do it again.”
“Or what?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, frustrated. I crossed my arms. The motion pushed my br**sts up high. His eyes caught on them in the rearview mirror and I dropped my arms, tugging up my tank.
What a stupid game I’d been playing that morning.
Ruger wasn’t a boy I could tease by dressing like a slut. I didn’t want his attention, or to get more involved in his world.
I’d never be more than a toy to him, and the men in his family had a history of breaking their toys.
They just did it in different ways.
Ruger didn’t actually live in Coeur d’Alene. He lived west of town in Post Falls, back in the hills near the Washington border at the end of a private gravel road. We pulled up to his place around five that evening, Horse behind us. The driveway widened into a large parking area behind an L-shaped, two-story cedar house overlooking a small valley. The setting was fantastic. Evergreens surrounded us, and I heard the trickle of a stream somewhere not too far away. A strip of grass ran down the hillside around to the front. It looked like it needed water, and given the yard’s condition, I got the impression Ruger liked his landscaping natural.