Reaper's Fire - Joanna Wylde Page 0,147

last few, panicked moments when we’d been running for the truck.

Had I left them in the ignition?

Pulling my sleeve up and over my hand, I wiped at the ash and fire retardant covering the window, and peered inside. Sure enough, there they were. Seconds later I had the trunk open, looking down triumphantly to see the bag of Carrie’s treasures. Whipping out my phone, I called her.

“Tinker?” she said, sounding defeated and exhausted. “How is your place?”

“I think we’re all right,” I told her, feeling strangely guilty for my good luck. “Darren sent me the pictures of your house, though.”

“It’s all gone,” she said. “There were a few boxes in the garage, but nothing that really mattered. I know it’s silly to be so upset over losing our things—it’s just stuff—but right now I feel sick.”

“When I took your girls by the house to grab some clothes, I went around with a grocery bag,” I told her. “I forgot all about it until now, but I grabbed your laptop and your jewelry, and a bunch of the pictures. It’s not much, but you haven’t lost everything. It’s still here, waiting for you.”

Carrie burst into tears.

“Carrie, are you all right?” I asked anxiously. She sniffled a few times, then managed to talk again.

“I’m so happy,” she said. “It shouldn’t matter so much but it does. The laptop has all our important information—you know, the bank accounts and insurance and stuff—and the thought of losing my grandma’s ring . . . I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, holding back my own tears. “We’re going to get through this. All of us. Together.”

“Yes, we are,” she said. “I can’t believe you did that. How can I ever thank you?”

“Promise that you and Margarita will never take me out again and we’ll be even.”

Carrie laughed.

“I’m not sure I can keep that promise. But I’ll try.”

“No you won’t.”

She laughed again.

“No, you’re right. I won’t try. But I love you.”

“Love you too.”

GAGE

An hour later, I stood on the porch, watching as Tinker and Carrie pawed through the Mustang’s trunk together, laughing like it’d been a year since they’d seen each other. Guess that made sense—the past week had felt as long as a year. My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket, not recognizing the number. I answered it anyway, figuring it might be one of the brothers on a burner.

“Hey, Gage,” Talia said. “Have to say, I liked the name Cooper better. Miss me?”

“No,” I said shortly.

“See you’re back in town,” she continued, and I looked around, wondering if the bitch was spying on us right now. “Shame about your girlfriend’s building. I was hoping it’d go up with the rest of the them, but we don’t always get what we want, do you?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She giggled. “That next time I’ll have to plan better. You can’t blame me, though. I’ve never burned down a town before. There’s a learning curve.”

I stilled. “What did you just say?”

“That I started the fire,” she replied, her voice growing more serious. “You know, when I blew up the clubhouse—you should just be thankful I needed you out of there to set it up. Otherwise you’d have blown up, too, but I couldn’t figure out how to pull it off. Burning down the town was a nice bonus, though. Marsh says hi, by the way. He wanted me to pass along a little message.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, eyes searching the street even as I reached for my gun. Was she out there?

“He said to tell you that if we can’t have Hallies Falls, you can’t either,” she told me. “Oh, and Gage?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck you.”

The phone went dead, and I lowered my hand, slowly sliding it into my pocket. Sociopathic cunt. Tinker turned toward me, smiling so beautifully that it hurt, and right there I made a vow. I’d protect her. Forever. Didn’t matter what happened or who I had to kill.

I’d take care of her.

I’d take care of this town, too. Cord and I needed to get together, start making plans to rebuild, because I’d be damned if I’d let them win.

EPILOGUE

NINE MONTHS LATER

HALLIES FALLS

GAGE

“Anyone got an extra pair of gloves?” Cord asked, holding up a torn leather work glove in disgust. We’d been clearing out debris from the old clubhouse for the entire morning, and while we hadn’t managed to salvage much, we were making good progress overall. This was important, because nearly fifty Reapers would be

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