Reaper's Fire

Grabbing it, I flicked off the safety and pulled back the slide, loading a shell. Then I pointed it straight at the lying son of a bitch.

“It’s time for you to get out of my house,” I said, and this time the words were steady and strong. He studied me warily, one hand firm against his bleeding neck.

“You know, my club president didn’t think you’d take this very well,” he said, his voice casual. I blinked, confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Picnic—he’s my club president. He thought you might be pissed off about me lying to you,” he said. “Guess he was right.”

“Are we having the same conversation?” I asked, raising the gun higher. What the hell? I had the gun. He was supposed to do what I said, not get all chatty. “Because I feel like maybe you don’t realize what’s happening here. If you don’t leave my house I’m going to shoot you.”

“Yeah, he was right,” Gage said thoughtfully. “This was a mistake. And I’ll go. But not until you put that down.”

“I am not putting down the fucking gun!”

“Okay, keep the gun for now,” he said, sighing. “But could you toss me the belt? This probably won’t be my only fight tonight, and I don’t want my pants falling down during a critical moment.”

“Do you realize that your life is in danger?” I demanded, my voice growing hysterical. “What’s wrong with you? Your belt doesn’t matter!”

He took a step toward me, frowning. “But it’s my favorite.”

My hands started to shake. The gun was heavy, but it wasn’t just that. He wasn’t leaving, and all of a sudden I realized that I might actually have to shoot him.

I didn’t want to shoot him.

I didn’t want to shoot anyone. I was the kind of girl who made chocolates and watered flowers and occasionally got drunk on red wine while sitting on my porch swing. Girls like that don’t shoot men in their living rooms.

“Please go,” I whispered, and he smiled softly, taking another step in my direction. Now we were maybe four feet apart. His eyes held mine prisoner and he cocked his head, holding up both hands in surrender.

“Give me the belt. I’ll let you keep the gun.”

My hands shook more, and I reached back blindly, feeling for the belt. I wanted him gone. I needed to think about things. This was all so crazy, and while I wasn’t totally certain how or why I’d found myself holding a gun on him in my living room, the situation needed to end.

Holy cats, how had my life come to this?

Wrapping my hand around the belt, I held it out to him and whispered, “You need to leave.”

He reached toward it, holding my eyes the whole time. Then my hand was flying to the side as he knocked the weapon out of my grip. Suddenly I was down on the floor, both arms pinned high over my head as his large, heavy body covered mine. He kicked my legs open, settling between them, trapping me completely.

How had that happened?

Everything was horrible, and it just kept getting worse. I bucked against him again, and then to my disgust I felt tears building in my eyes. I hated crying. There were too many feelings rushing through me all at once and I couldn’t control them all, and now he was on top of me again. I could feel his cock hardening against me. Everything was happening too fast. I wiggled, trying to escape, and he gave a low groan. My heart was about to explode from shock and he was turned on like some kind of sick animal.

How was this my reality?

“Just do it,” I said, sniffling.

He stilled. “Do what?”

“Rape me or whatever. Just get it over with.”

Gage was off me in an instant, backing away. “Jesus Christ, who do you think I am?”

I sat up slowly, wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands. Then I looked at him and shook my head.

“I have no fucking idea,” I whispered, and it was the absolute truth. I didn’t know him and I never had. “Please leave. I just want you to leave.”

Gage stared me down, then nodded, his face shaken.

“I’ll leave for now,” he said. “But it’s not over. We’re not over.”

“It’s over for tonight.”

He nodded, grabbing his belt and the gun that had skidded across the floor. I flinched as he stepped toward the sideboard, but all he did was pick up his knife. Then he walked toward the front door, turning once to look back at me.”

“This isn’t how I planned this, Tinker,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

GAGE

Moron.

I was a fucking moron. Pic had warned me not to talk to her, and the bastard had been right. Again. Why that asshole always had to be right I didn’t know, but it was damned annoying.

When she’d looked up at me and said to go ahead and rape her, something had died inside me. Don’t think I’d ever hated myself quite so much in my entire life as I had in that instant.

One thing did have me puzzled, though. Why the hell—out of all the lies I’d told her—had it been the kid thing that freaked her out? I got that lying sucked and everyone hates feeling like a sucker, but I’d expected her to fixate on me fucking Talia, not that.

Guess I’d just add it to the list of shit I needed to deal with next time I saw her.

List was getting damned long.

My Reaper brothers had gathered at the same cheap-ass hotel I’d stayed in when I first got to town. I counted twenty-six bikes in the lot, and it looked like they’d called in the cavalry because several had Devil’s Jacks markings. Fucking shame it’d come to this, but I didn’t see how we’d had much choice. With Marsh and his boys still in jail, we’d never get a better chance to make our move.

Pic stood waiting for me out in the parking lot, along with Horse, Ruger, Bam Bam, and several others. I parked my bike, and he walked over to meet me, catching my hand before pulling me in for a tight hug.

“Glad to have you back, brother,” he said. “Everything go okay with your girl?”

And now for the fun part—I hated admitting when he was right.

“No.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Never wanted to talk about anything less,” I said shortly, and he laughed.

“Believe it or not, I understand. Everyone’s waiting. It’s a little crowded inside, but we’re ready for you to brief us on the situation.”