Reaper's Fire - Joanna Wylde Page 0,81

All the fucking Reapers and their families. Even the fucking waitresses you tip should be afraid, because if they’re connected to you, they’re on my list.”

I laughed.

“Good luck with that, Jackson.”

He spent the next minutes glaring at me, as if he could set me on fire with his eyes if he just tried hard enough. Sadly for him, I didn’t burst into flames, so I guess he needed to practice that particular superpower a little bit longer. Then the door opened. Graves stood outside with two more officers—the same ones who’d brought Marsh. He smiled at the sight of Marsh huddled on the floor.

“He attacked me,” I said blandly.

“Looks like self-defense,” he replied. “We’ll find a safer place for you to wait out your processing. Sorry about the mistake.”

• • •

Half an hour later, I walked out into the parking lot, and despite the fact that I’d spent the night in jail, I felt better than I had in a long time. No more fucking lies, no more eating shit.

Horse and Ruger were right there, just like Coales had promised. Horse was a big fucker, and when he caught me up in a tight hug, he nearly broke a rib.

“Missed you, brother,” he said, his voice serious for once. “We were worried about you up there. We’re gonna clean house tonight. Pic wants to talk, and then we’ll call the Nighthawks who aren’t locked up together. Wants a full report on everyone, to see if any of them are worth salvaging.”

Together we walked toward my bike.

Fuck, it looked good.

The way it was supposed to. For one thing, they’d put the whips back on, and the custom bell I’d gotten from my dad right before he died. Then Ruger handed me a carefully folded leather vest. My colors, with my road name on the front, and Reapers MC across the back. I pulled it on, savoring the smell of the leather, and for the first time since I’d arrived in Hallies Falls things were right again.

“There’s a knife in your saddlebag, and I stashed some extra hardware on the bike for you, too,” Ruger said in a low voice.

“Missed wearing this,” I said, pulling on my cut. “Missed it a lot. ’Bout fuckin’ time I could be me again. Got some business to take care of.”

“Yeah, they’re waiting for you,” Horse said. “Gonna have church at the hotel, get your full report. Then we’ll make our move on the clubhouse. One thing we got goin’ for us—enough of them got picked up that there’s only a few left in town to fight.”

“Not sure there’ll be much of a fight,” I told him. “All of Marsh’s people went down to the rally. The club wasn’t united and those who stayed behind were already pulling away. Anything could happen, but taking Marsh out of the picture is a game changer.”

“That’s why we should get going,” Horse said. “Boss hates to wait.”

“Got someone else I need to see first,” I told him, rubbing my chin. “Someone important.”

“More important than your club president?” Ruger asked, but I was already throwing a leg over my bike. Tinker Garrett was waiting, and for the first time I wouldn’t be hiding who I was. My dick got hard just thinkin’ about it.

TINKER

“Something big happened down in Ellensburg yesterday,” Carrie said, her voice breathless through the phone. I was sitting on my porch, enjoying my Sunday-afternoon wine. No eye candy this weekend, which was probably a good thing. I hadn’t seen Cooper for a few days, and much as I missed watching him work, I knew it was for the best.

On the bright side, I hadn’t seen stupid Talia or her machete.

“You know how Cooper’s been hanging out with the motorcycle club? Well, they got in some kind of big fight and tore up a bar. Then the cops arrested all of them. Not just the guys in the club, but anyone with them, and Cooper was right in the thick of it!”

“What?” I asked, my stomach churning. Cooper was a big guy, sure. And tough. But he’d never seemed particularly violent to me. I mean, he had the strength, but he was usually so even tempered.

“Cooper got arrested,” she repeated slowly.

“You know, anyone can get caught up in a bar fight,” I said. “Just because they arrested him doesn’t mean—”

“There were drugs,” she said, and I heard genuine regret in her voice. “Lots of drugs. Meth, apparently. I guess a bunch of the guys were carrying it.”

“Meth?” I

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