Текст книги "Reaper's Legacy"
Автор книги: Joanna Wylde
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
I hoped his balls turned so blue they froze.
I ignored him as I took the shorts, tank, bra, and panties back to the bathroom and got dressed. I dried my hair and put on full war paint. Then I stepped out to find Horse and Noah were back.
“Hey, Mom—Horse has a dog named Ariel. Can we get a dog, too?” Noah asked the instant he saw me.
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “A dog’s a lot of work. We should start smaller. Maybe a hamster. Let’s ask Uncle Ruger if that’s okay or if he thinks it’s too much.”
I smiled at Ruger, whose eyes were glued to my chest. I adjusted my tank, pulling it down just enough to expose the top of the bra he’d requested.
He wanted to break our rules and bully me?
No problem. I was a big girl now, and I could fight back.
“So what do you think, Uncle Ruger?” I asked sweetly. “Is it too much?”
CHAPTER THREE
Despite his earlier breakfast, Noah had no trouble polishing off a full plate of pancakes, two slices of bacon, and a glass of orange juice.
Another growth spurt coming, I realized. That sucked. Seemed like I’d just bought him new clothes a month ago. Every time I caught up, the kid got bigger.
“You done?” I asked him, leaning back in the booth. We’d finished packing an hour ago, at which point Ruger and Horse kicked us out. Apparently we were getting in their way. Ruger handed me two twenties and told me to take Noah out for breakfast down the street, which made sense, given the long car ride ahead of us. I didn’t like taking his money but I had to be practical. I couldn’t afford to waste cash on something as frivolous as eating out.
“Done,” Noah said, grinning at me. God, he was beautiful. His face still held a hint of the softness he’d been born with, but his legs and arms were getting lanky. He liked his hair on the long side, so it hung shaggy around his face and shoulders. Not quite long enough for a ponytail, but close. People told me I should cut it. I figured it should be his choice. When he was older he’d learn all about peer pressure and fitting in. For now I wanted him to enjoy the blissful freedom that comes from not giving a rat’s ass about the world’s opinions.
His skin was light, with a smattering of freckles across his nose and face. Sometimes I caught glimpses of myself or Zach in him, but not often. Noah was his own person, no question of that.
Kind of took after Ruger that way, I mused.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said, dropping some money on the table. I tipped the waitress nearly fifty percent—she seemed overworked, and I knew how that felt. Also, it wasn’t my money.
I texted Ruger as I left, wondering if we’d killed enough time. He replied, telling me to give him another thirty minutes. We didn’t have a park right by our apartment, but there was a lot about three blocks away that Noah liked running around in. I’d heard it used to be a hangout for dealers and users, but a few years back yuppies had started moving into the neighborhood. Now about half of it was a community garden, and the rest was for the kids. Someone had built a wooden swing set. Murals on the sides of the buildings bordering the lot kept the place looking cheerful and bright.
It took us about ten minutes to reach the park, and Noah made the most of his time there. I ran laps with him around the edges, hoping to tire him out. It didn’t work, of course. Then we headed back, popping into a used bookstore on the way to pick out something special for the car ride.
We found Horse, Ruger, and two guys I didn’t recognize on the sidewalk outside the building. The newcomers wore leather vests that read “Devil’s Jacks” across the back. Below that was a picture of a red devil and the word “Nomad.” They were both tall guys, one bulky in a muscular way and the other long and lean in his strength. Both had dark hair. One raised his chin in silent greeting.
The men clearly appreciated my Barbie tank top. They were both attractive, but the tall one was actually almost pretty, he was so cute. He had floppy brown hair and hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. He wore a battered Flogging Molly T-shirt with his faded jeans and leather boots. Both of them looked about my age.
“Hey,” I said, coming up to them, smiling. “You must be Ruger’s friends? Nice to meet you. I’m Sophie. This is my boy, Noah.”
Ruger’s eyes narrowed.
“Go wait in the car,” he said, tossing me his keys.
“Those aren’t my keys. Introduce me to your friends.”
“They’re my keys. Blue rig, right over there,” he told me, nodding toward a large SUV across the street. “Car. Now. Horse is gonna drive yours back to Coeur d’Alene.”
I opened my mouth to argue, just on general principle. Then I caught Horse’s eyes, which held a silent warning. He glanced toward Noah, then toward the strangers. That’s when I finally caught the tension in the air—their body language was far from friendly.
Oops. This wasn’t a happy visit.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, taking Noah’s hand. I dragged him across the street and climbed into the big SUV waiting for us. Ruger had already installed a booster seat in the back. Noah’s backpack sat next to it. I leaned over and stuck the keys in the ignition, then switched on the AC.
Ten minutes later, Ruger came over and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“You buckled in, little man?” he asked as he popped the SUV into reverse.
“Uh-huh,” Noah replied. “Thanks for grabbing my backpack. I’m excited to see your house. Do you have Skylanders?”
“Got no idea what a Skylander is, kid,” he replied. “But I’m sure we can get some.”
“Ruger—” I started, but he cut me off.
“Jesus, Sophie,” he said, glaring at me. “Now I can’t buy the kid a present? Shit, he’s had a rough night. If I wanna buy him something, I will.”
“Actually, I was going to ask if I could take him upstairs to the bathroom before we leave,” I replied, smiling sweetly. “He drank a big glass of juice at breakfast. We aren’t going to get far without a pit stop.”
Ruger’s glare faded.
“That’s totally reasonable.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m a reasonable person.”
“We’ll stop at a restaurant or something,” he said, pulling out. “I don’t want you going back upstairs. Hunter and Skid are up there now.”
“Hunter and Skid?” I asked. “Those the guys you were talking to on the sidewalk? Things seemed a little tense. What was that all about?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Club business. I’ll pull off when I see a good place to stop.”
Predictably, Noah started begging for a kid’s meal when we stopped at a fast-food place, especially when he saw they were Skylander-themed. He couldn’t possibly be hungry, but Ruger ordered two of the overpriced little boxes.
“That’s ridiculous,” I told him as he carried them back to the car. “The food will go to waste. Noah is stuffed. Not to mention he already ate out earlier. He doesn’t need unhealthy junk like that.”
“They’re for me,” Ruger replied. “He can have the toys, I’ll take the food. I’m starving.”
As we pulled out and onto the freeway, Noah started telling Ruger all about the Skylanders. By now he was totally wired and it was a damned good thing he was belted in—otherwise he might have jumped around until we crashed the car. He talked Skylanders as we cleared the city. He talked Skylanders as we passed North Bend. He talked Skylanders as we started up Snoqualmie Pass.
Poor Ruger. He had no idea how much conversational stamina Noah had …
“I’m taking a nap,” I said, raising my arms and stretching, chest thrust out. I saw Ruger’s eyes flick toward me, and they weren’t looking at my face. Good. I wanted his balls so blue they stayed that way, because maybe that would teach him a lesson about changing the rules of our relationship without warning. I still had a crush on him, but he wasn’t crushing on me at all.
Nope.
Ruger was just horny.
“Sure,” he grunted. Noah rattled on in the background as I leaned my seat back and closed my eyes.
I woke slowly, feeling myself in motion and trying to remember where I was. I heard Noah talking and it came back to me. Ruger. Coeur d’Alene. Packing. Miranda.
“Then the Skylanders realized they needed the Giants if they wanted to defeat Kaos,” Noah said to Ruger, his voice earnest.
“You still talking about Skylanders?” I asked sleepily, turning to look at Noah. He was all smiles, clearly excited to have a captive audience.
“Yup. Still talkin’ about Skylanders,” Ruger said, his voice strained and his expression dark. I bit back a laugh. “Been talkin’ about Skylanders nonstop. I think we ran out of new material a while ago, because now he’s tellin’ me the same shit over again. We’re almost to Ellensburg. I want to pull off and buy one of those little DVD players for him to hold on his lap, and some headphones. We got almost three and half more hours. This might kill me.”
“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 fuckers 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 fuckers 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 fuckers 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 fuckin’ 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 fuck 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 asshole 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 fuckin’ 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 breasts 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.
Noah bounded out of the car, running around the house in excitement. I stretched up high as I stood, pulling the tank up with me, exposing my stomach. I felt Ruger’s eyes touch me, cool and speculative, and I quickly pulled it back down.
Really, really stupid idea, that tank.
What the hell had I been thinking? You don’t pull a tiger’s tail. I’d spent years wishing Ruger would notice me, just once. Now I needed him to unnotice me and start treating me like furniture again. Life as furniture might not be exciting, but it was definitely safe.
“Your car needs a tune-up,” Horse said, walking over to us. He tossed me the keys and I caught them, chest jiggling precariously. Horse eyed me, then smirked at Ruger, who watched us with something like disgust. “I’ll help haul your shit in, then I’ll head home to Marie. She’s startin’ school day after tomorrow. Want to enjoy some time with her before she gets all stressed out and bitchy.”
Ruger walked to the door, which sat kitty-corner from the three-car garage forming one side of the “L.” A narrow band of deck followed the line of the house around to the front. He punched in a code, opened the door, and we went inside. There he put in another code, because apparently one wasn’t enough for Mr. Security-Is-Critically-Important.
I walked in and my mouth dropped open.
I fell in love with the house instantly.
Before me was a great room with a giant, prow-shaped bank of windows looking out across the valley. The place wasn’t huge, but it was definitely big enough to impress me. To the right was a door that had to lead into the garage. To the left was an open-plan kitchen with a breakfast bar. A separate dining area held a table. Dishes littered the counter, and a smattering of empty beer bottles stood on the bar, which separated the kitchen from the main room. A stone fireplace lined one wall in the living room, and a sweeping staircase snaked upward along the other.
Forgetting all about the men, I walked slowly forward to take in the view. Directly in front of the house was a broad meadow, ringed by evergreens lower on the slope. The valley lay beyond that, stunning and sweeping. Here and there I saw other houses, a mix of high-end, new construction and original farms. I looked up to see that the ceiling vaulted all the way to the second story. Behind me was a loft. A pile of dirty laundry had been shoved against the open railing, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Ruger had never been much of a housekeeper.
The living room needed attention, too. The leather couches seemed to be relatively new, as did the rest of the furniture, but for all the care he took to keep things clean it could’ve been a frat house. There was even an empty pizza box on the coffee table.
I heard a beer top pop and turned to find the men standing in the kitchen.
“Your house is almost as disgusting as the Armory,” Horse said to Ruger.
“Like yours used to be?” Ruger asked.
“I don’t remember that,” Horse replied, his expression innocent.
“Just be glad you have Marie around. Otherwise you’d be livin’ this way, too.”
“I was never gross like this.”
“It’s not that bad,” I said, smiling at Ruger, my earlier frustration forgotten. I honestly couldn’t believe how gorgeous his place was. I had no idea what the basement looked like, but it could be a spider hole and I’d still be thrilled, just for the location. Not to mention the yard for Noah. “But how did you get a house like this? I mean, it had to cost a fortune. How much land do you have?”
“Fifteen acres,” he said, a shadow crossing his face. “I bought it in March. Used my share of Mom’s estate for the down payment.”
I cocked my head, stunned. Ruger’s mother, Karen, had been disabled in a car accident a couple years before I met her. She’d been living on disability by the time I came along, pinching every penny. I’d never forget the sacrifices she made when she brought me into her home.
I’d also never forget the betrayal on her face when I moved out after sending her stepson to jail.
“What the hell? Why was she living so poor if she could afford something like this? Why did you let her?”
His expression darkened.
“They finally settled,” he said. “After all those years, fuckin’ insurance company finally offered us a settlement. Too late. It went into the estate and I used my half to buy this place.”
My breath caught.
“When?”
“Just about a year ago.”
“And Zach got the other half?” I asked, swaying. “He’s got money like this and he still stopped paying his child support?”
“Sounds like it,” Ruger replied, his voice tight. “Remember what you asked me earlier? You really surprised by anything Zach does? Mom never thought she’d leave anything but bills. Estate planning wasn’t a priority.”
“That bastard,” I whispered, stunned. “We’re starving and he’s off spending your mom’s money … She’d be so pissed.”
“Hard to argue with that,” he muttered. “Marrying his dad was the stupidest thing she ever did, and I’ve been payin’ for it ever since. Zach’s a fuckin’ weight around my neck. Everything he touches turns to shit, and then I’m stuck haulin’ out his garbage. Again.”
I felt like he’d just punched me in the stomach.
“Is that how you feel about me and Noah?”
