Текст книги "Reaper's Property"

Автор книги: Joanna Wylde

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“I’m keeping her here until this is handled,” Horse said. “She’s up in the back apartment. Anyone have a problem with that?”

Picnic rolled his eyes, and Ruger shook his head. Deke laughed and pulled out a knife, picking at his fingernail with it.

“Got no problem with that, brother,” he said. “She’s club property. We don’t share with anyone, don’t care how or why they want her. It’s about all of us now.”

Horse felt the tension in his chest loosen. He knew Jeff wouldn’t harm her, but the Jacks? He’d seen what they could do to a woman.

“We still owe those cocksuckers for Gracie,” Deke added, his face grim. “I know we took action, but I still say it wasn’t enough. We need to show them who owns this land, throw their asses so far out of our territory that the fall back to earth kills ’em. We stop Jensen, great. But I think we should consider taking the fight to them, finish what we started ten years ago. I don’t give a shit about this guy, I want to take them down.”

“Fuck yeah,” muttered one of the Portland guys. Horse nodded, understanding. The Oregon charters had suffered over the years and a threat to one of the club’s women would hit them harder than most. He didn’t want war, but if it came he wouldn’t be holding back. They owed the Jacks for a lot of things.

“So here’s how I’m seeing it,” Picnic said. “We reach out to all the charters, in person. Tell them to get ready. Make sure their information is locked up tight. New phones, new codes. Women and children taking safety precautions. Marie may be the one with the bounty on her head, but they’re all vulnerable. Might wanna consider bringing them in for the duration, especially you guys down south. You think Marie can make contact with him?”

“Yeah,” Horse replied. “She’s got an email. He’s a smart little fuck, he’ll be waiting for her to reach out. Might be able to use him to feed the Jacks information, offer him a way out. We have a shipment we can afford to give up for an ambush?”

“We got something coming through in a couple of weeks,” said Grenade, the LeGrande charter’s VP. “You leak it, we can set things up. Might not be bad to hit them back at the same time. Send some boys down to Cali, raid ’em while we ambush up here.”

“Not a bad idea,” Picnic mused. “Guys from Roseburg could do it. Thoughts?”

“I like the idea of turning him,” Deke replied. “Take it from there. I don’t want to send men down unless we’re sure we’ll catch the Jacks off guard. Could be a bloodbath otherwise.”

“That settles it then,” Picnic said. “We need a vote? Any opposed?”

Nobody spoke.

“All in favor.”

Assorted “ayes” echoed around the room.

“That’s settled then,” said Picnic. “You guys staying tonight? Got the girls pulling together food and shit already.”

“Sounds good,” Deke said, grinning. “Eat and drink while you can, boys. Got work to do tomorrow. Fuck with us and we will fuck you back!”

“Hell yeah!” someone yelled.

Church was over. Time to party.

Horse didn’t plan on getting drunk, but it felt good to kick back with his brothers. Em’d brought shit for Marie, which he took upstairs after church. He’d grabbed her some pizza and a couple of beers too, and spent half an hour sitting with her. But she didn’t look at him, didn’t kiss him back when he’d tried to get close, so he figured she needed some space. Hell of a lot to process, he got that.

Downstairs things were getting crazy—always the case when charters got together, particularly when blood was in the air. Didn’t get much bloodier than the Devil’s Jacks. Tonight wasn’t a family party either, something Picnic made clear when he sent Em packing after she dropped off Marie’s things. Horse grinned, thinking of her. Poor kid, at this rate she’d be fifty before she found a man.

As he sauntered into the main lounge, a girl wearing a miniskirt and thigh-high fishnets, along with a bikini top so small it defied physics, brought him a beer, reaching around his waist and rubbing her boobs against his arm. Some chick from the Line, he couldn’t remember her name. He gave her a pat on the ass, then shrugged her off. Sweet butts and strippers, place was crawling with them, hospitality for the visiting brothers. Horse chugged the beer and handed the cup to another girl as she walked by. He wanted a word with Ruger before things got too crazy.

The man wasn’t in the main lounge or the meeting room, so Horse headed back toward the office. They kept their records there, at least the official ones, and Horse stored the legitimate business accounts there too. It was convenient and would make things efficient if they ever got served with a warrant. Just for fun, he’d filled a couple lockboxes with shady-looking paperwork and decoy overseas account numbers—he liked the idea of some cop blowing his wad if he found them, then spending months trying to put it all together. Horse opened the door to find Picnic pounding into a woman face down on the desk, his pants around his ankles, her hair pulled back like reins.

“Getting an early start?” Horse asked, smirking. “No wonder you wanted Em the hell out of here. You’re a perv, you know that?”

“Get the fuck out unless someone’s shooting at us,” Picnic grumbled and Horse laughed, closing the door and heading back toward the shop. Ruger was a hell of a gunsmith and he did his most sensitive work back there, away from any curious eyes at the gun shop. If the visiting boys needed hardware, that’s where they’d find it. Horse threw open the door and saw Ruger at his bench, holding up a fully automated assault rifle, one of his specialties. Several of the brothers stood around, talking shit, while one of the Portland men reached for the gun.

“It’s a thing of beauty, but not exactly practical,” he said, laughing as he hefted it. “Can’t see this in my saddlebags. Like something out of Thunderdome.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ruger replied. “But these dumb-fuck militia dicks can’t get enough of ’em. Think they’re all Rambo or something. ‘Master race’, my ass, I make a fortune off those idiots.”

“Ruger, got a minute?” Horse asked. Ruger ambled on over.

“What’s up?”

“Marie’s upstairs, and I’m thinking about security for the next few days,” Horse said. “You got any thoughts on that? I know manpower’s limited, and I’m wondering if we wanted to rig up any extra precautions.”

“Already ahead of you,” Ruger said, flashing a smile. He flicked his lip ring with his tongue as he grabbed a laptop from the bench, popping it open. The guy looked scary as hell with his tats, mohawk, chains and piercings, but around technology he was more like a little kid at Christmas. Ruger popped open the security control panel for the clubhouse on the laptop, and he clicked on a multicolored layout of the armory and surrounding property. “See here? We’ve got the cams and basic motion sensors, of course, but I’m planning on putting in some new stuff around the perimeter, right here. We need detection, but I’m also worried about manpower. I want to rig some traps that we can trigger by computer or phone if we need to. I know we can’t count on the electronics a hundred percent, but we can only spread ourselves so thin. This gives us more options.”

“Can we put something outside her room?” Horse. “I know it’s not a top priority, but I’d like to keep an eye on her. Just in case they buy off one of the girls or something. This probably won’t come down to a frontal assault.”

Ruger scratched his head, considering.

“I can rig something up for you,” he said. “Won’t be until tomorrow. After I fix the guys up back here I’m ready for some pussy. Speaking of, you sure about yours?”

“You sayin’ I have a pussy?” Horse asked, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow.

“Don’t be an asshole, you know I meant your girl upstairs. I get that you’re into her. But she knows his life is at stake and we might be the ones to kill him. You might want to consider the possibility that she’s working with Jensen on this. She’s only human, Horse.”

Horse shook his head.

“Marie can’t lie for shit,” he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling tired. “And even if she was, she doesn’t know a damn thing. Couldn’t be his source of information.”

“If they’re talking, she wouldn’t have to be his only source,” Ruger replied, his tone reasonable. “He might be using her. I don’t think she’s screwing you on purpose—”

“Oh, she’s definitely screwing me on purpose,” Horse replied, deadpan.

“Fuck you,” Ruger replied, grinning. “You know what I mean. She’s the victim in this situation and she believes in her brother. She tells him about your day-to-day life, he puts that together with a couple other sources, could add up. You don’t tell her about club business, but she sure as shit knows when we’re on a long run. All the women do. Fuck, for all we know he’s on Facebook with them or something, pretending to be some chick they know. You get enough old ladies talking about their men being gone, it adds up.”

“Shit,” muttered Horse, shaking his head. “Never thought of that. This is a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Ya think?” Ruger asked, rubbing a hand across his tattooed scalp and the short buzz of his mohawk. “So you want cameras on her. Sure you don’t want something inside the room too?”

“Nope, don’t want your sick ass watching us fuck,” Horse replied. “But I do want to check on her, make sure nobody’s lingering, trying to get to her. You know what I mean? Oh, and a GPS on her car. Want to be able to find her. Make sure she doesn’t see you, want to keep her safe, not freak her out more.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now I need someone sucking my dick, and unless you’re planning to share your old lady, I got higher priorities than this conversation.”

Ruger grinned and Horse laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it hard enough to leave marks.

“Touch Marie and I’ll cut off your balls.”

“Yeah, right,” Ruger replied. “So much for taking care of your brothers, you cock-blocking bastard. Talk to me tomorrow and I’ll set it up to feed to your phone, along with the computers.”

“Thanks, man,” Horse said.

The party was raging back in the main lounge. Two girls were bumping and grinding each other up on one end of the bar, and a third served up body shots in the middle. Duck, the filthy old pervert, sat back on a couch with a barely legal redhead eating out his mouth with her hand thrust down between them, working furiously. Picnic caught Horse’s eye across the room, apparently finished with his important business in the office. The man gave a chin jerk, inviting Horse to join the Portland and LeGrande officers at his table.

“Interesting times,” Picnic said as Horse grabbed a seat. “Deke tells me the Portland boys are itching for this.”

“Glad for the excuse,” Deke said. “Jacks’ve always been trouble, we all know that, but they’ve been working up on us for a while. Nothing too overt, always just this side of what’s acceptable behavior. Wearing their cuts on our territory, dicking with support clubs, that kind of thing. There’s a group of them that’s set up near Brooklyn Park. They’re just camping in some shitty rental and doing their thing like they think they’re citizens or something. I know two of them are going to school at PSU, if you can believe it, and they aren’t doing anything for us to call them on, besides existing and being general assholes. No respect.”

“They’re up to something,” Horse replied as yet another half-naked girl set a beer down in front of him. “They always are. Shit, if it was us, we’d be up to something.”

They all laughed, knowing he was right.

“My thoughts exactly,” Deke replied. “And since we’re the ones losing shipments, I’m thinking there’s a good chance the leak is close to home. But no matter how much we check on the local guys, we haven’t caught them doing shit. I wanted to ask you about this Jensen guy. How good with computers is he? Do you really think he could hack in, pull stuff from our home computers, that kind of thing?”

“Yeah, he’s good,” Horse said. “Guys like him are why I do the books on a laptop without a wireless card. Lock it in a safe, back it up once a week and keep that backup in a different safe. That’s the only kind of computer security we can really trust.”

“That’s what I thought,” Deke replied. He tugged on his short, black goatee, shaking his head. The Portland president was a big guy with long, black hair he kept in a ponytail. His arms were covered in full-sleeve tattoos, and the rumor was he operated as national’s unofficial hit man. Horse didn’t doubt it for a minute. “We find him, we have to get rid of him unless he hands us the Jacks. Even then, might have to get rid of him.”

Horse nodded, knowing the truth of it. Fuck, this was gonna kill Marie.

“If it comes down to that, can you make it an accident? Maybe in a couple of months?”

“I can,” Deke replied, glancing over at Picnic, who shrugged. “Gotta tell you, I’m a little concerned about your commitment on this one, Horse. You seem more worried about your girl’s feelings than someone fucking with the club. We got a problem?”

Horse shook his head.

“No problem,” he replied. “This is my life, I know that and she knows it too. Just hoping to walk out alive and still keep my old lady. We all make sacrifices. Hoping mine isn’t bigger than it needs to be.”

“Good to hear,” Deke said. “I’ll keep that in mind. Make our lives easier if the Jacks killed him anyway.”

“That’s the truth,” Picnic said. “But don’t count on it—they’ve never done anything to help us before, doubt they’ll start now. Wish we had better control over the timing, but it’ll be good to take them down, especially given your situation, Deke. But that’s enough business. I know you boys had a long ride today. Time for some hospitality.”

Picnic glanced around, spotting a couple of girls standing not too far away. He whistled, calling them over.

“Take care of Deke and Grenade for me, will you?”

They smiled and obediently moved toward the visiting charter officers. Picnic looked at Horse and cocked an eyebrow.

“You planning to partake tonight?”

Horse shook his head.

“Got something better waiting for me upstairs,” he said. “Giving her some time to settle in, get used to what’s happening. That’s all.”

“Some men say a brother who’s afraid to enjoy pussy at a party is a pussy himself,” Picnic replied. “Who’s in charge, you or the old lady?”

Horse laughed.

“You’re full of shit,” he replied. “When your old lady was alive, you were a monk. I saw how it was.”

Picnic looked thoughtful and took a long pull of his beer. Then he looked up and held Horse’s gaze.

“Caught a lot of shit for that,” he said. “But I’m telling you, I’d give every piece of ass I’ve had in my life for another day with that woman. This,” he continued, gesturing toward the party. “This is good fun. But it’s not the real thing. We’ll do our best to protect your girl. And if we take out Jensen, we’ll do it quiet. Want you to know that.”

“Thanks,” Horse said. “You’re a good brother.”

“That’s what it’s all about,” Picnic replied. He smiled. “What I said aside, my old lady may not be here, but remembering her makes me horny as fuck. Girl in the office only took the edge off. Think I’ll do something about that.”

Picnic got up, moving toward another group of giggling women. Hands came around Horse’s head from behind, covering his eyes as a warm body pressed into his back.

“Hey sexy,” said a woman’s voice. He recognized it instantly and smiled broadly. Serena. He pulled her hands off and stood to hug her.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, stepping back to take her in. “Fantastic like always. Haven’t been around at all lately, what’s up with that?”

She offered a knowing smile.

“I’ve got a new man, I think. Guy from California, comes up here on his private jet, that kind of thing. Been seeing him for a while, but his divorce is final now, so he’s got a little more freedom. We’ve been hanging out. I’m thinking about heading south with him, unless there’s a better reason for me to stay around here…”

Horse caught the unasked question and shook his head ruefully.

“I’m taken, babe.”

She nodded, looking a little wistful but not unhappy or surprised. That was Serena—always a realist, and a good friend too. He’d been hooking up with her on and off since high school, and she was one of the few women he’d slept with that he actually liked and trusted.

“I heard rumors,” she replied. “Kind of scary rumors, to be honest. Answer me one question and I’ll leave you alone. She a prisoner?”

Horse shrugged.

“I told her she can leave, but her brother’s under a sentence. It’s way beyond her now, he’s on his own at this point.”

Serena studied his face, then shook her head.

“You’re tricky,” she replied. “You ‘told’ her she can leave? Does she know you lied?”

“We’re not having this conversation,” Horse said, his voice firm. Serena laughed.

“Okay, big boy. Just asking. I always thought the two of us might make something of it, that kind of thing. But I’m happy for you, Horse, I really am. You’re one of the good ones. Buy a lady a drink, for old times’ sake?”

He offered her his arm as they headed toward the bar. Just one girl danced on top now, and she’d lost her clothes. The other was down on a couch, one of the brothers from LeGrande eating her out while she gave a blowjob to another. It didn’t interest him much, which made Horse feel sort of old and jaded. He might be taken, but a man could still look. But honestly, it just seemed so boring.

He snagged a couple of beers for them from the bar and looked around for a spot quiet enough to talk, but it wasn’t happening.

“Let’s go upstairs to the game room.”

Nearly half of the armory’s the second floor was a large, open room where they’d set up pool tables, an air hockey table and a bunch of old couches. There was a big-screen TV up against one wall hooked to the satellite and about six different kinds of video consoles. Later on people might bed down in here, but for now it was quiet. Down the hallway was a series of rooms they used for all kinds of things, from storing extra inventory for the businesses to privacy for a quickie. He escorted Serena to the couch in front of the TV. She looked around, eyes lingering on the hallway.

“The room in use tonight?”

Horse grimaced and shrugged.

“Who knows,” he said. “Nobody makes ’em do it. You starting to judge?”

She shook her head and laughed, leaning toward him to brush her hand along his cut.

“Babe, I’ve spent a night or two in there myself,” she replied, winking. “I think you were off with the Marines or something.”

“You mean you were with someone else while I was gone?” he asked, clutching a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. She burst out laughing.

“You know me. I’ll stand by my man so long as he’s in the room and has a pile of cash.”

Horse laughed with her, loving her honesty. Being with Serena was comfortable, no question. A part of him wished he could care about her the way he did about Marie. They would’ve been a good pair, and she sure as shit knew her way around the club. Intimately. Yeah, that wouldn’t work, he decided. Someone took her as property the other old ladies would probably kill her.

Or she’d kill them, he decided, eyeing the long, red talons she called fingernails.

“What’s the look for?” she asked, arching a brow.

“Just wondering who’d win if you got into it with the old ladies,” he answered. “I’m not sure.”

She burst out laughing so hard that she snorted beer out her nose, which made her laugh more. That’s what he loved about Serena—whatever she did, she did it openly and without any pretense. He took the glass from her, looking around to find something to help her clean up. There was an old sweatshirt tucked into the end of the couch, so he snagged it and leaned toward her, helping to wipe off her chest and lap. Serena didn’t help, giggling and slapping at him.

“You’re just trying to cop a feel, you dirty bastard!” she exclaimed. He grinned at her.

“Yeah, you know me. Always looking for my next lay.”

Then a voice cut through his laughter and it was his turn to choke.

“I can see why you t-t-t-told me to wait upst-t-t-t-tairs.”

Horse turned his head to see Marie standing behind the couch, wrapped in a blanket, face pale and teeth chattering.

“Well, shit,” he muttered. Serena looked between them, eyes wide.

“I take it this is the old lady?”