Reaper's Legacy (19 page)

“Would you hate me if I told you I don’t want to be part of the club?”

“I get it,” she said, sighing. “Believe me. I just wish it could be different for you guys. I wouldn’t settle for what Ruger’s offering either, though. No fucking way. You want to get out of here? My dad’s gonna see me sooner or later, so I might as well bug out now.”

“Yeah, I really do,” I told her.

“Let’s go watch a movie or something,” she said. “You can come over to my place if you like. We have a killer home theater setup.”

“Um, that sounds good,” I replied, sort of surprised. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t think of a motorcycle club president as being the kind of guy who’d have a home theater.”

“I’ll bet you wouldn’t think he’d have a virgin daughter, either,” she said, regaining some of her humor. “Fuck this, let’s go. Last time they had a party this big, I walked in on my dad screwing this chick I graduated with. It was disgusting.”

Back out in the courtyard, a circle had formed beyond the bonfire. People cheered, yelled, and groaned every few seconds.

“What’s that all about?” I asked, craning my neck.

“Fights,” Em said shortly. “That’s what happens when you have too many penises concentrated in one place. Oh, and I wasn’t kidding when I said Ruger was up next—he’s out there right now. For some reason they think it’s fun to hit each other. Let’s find Maggs. Maybe she’ll come watch movies with us.”

I laughed, then spotted Maggs. She stood near the fire, staring deep into the flames. I walked over to her but she didn’t look up.

“You okay?”

She sighed and crossed her arms, frowning.

“Peachy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m just sick and fucking tired of being here without my man. The club’s great and all, but it’s not like having Bolt in my bed.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I hugged her. She hugged me back. I really wanted to stay friends with these women, despite the whole Ruger situation.

“Hey, you want to come and watch movies with me and Em?” I asked. “I’m sick of Ruger, Picnic says Em has to leave, and you’re lonely. Sounds like God himself wants us to get out of here and eat some chocolate ice cream.”

She snorted.

“Ice cream’s no substitute for a man,” she said wryly.

“We can have whipped cream on it,” I said, waggling my eyebrows. “You can pretend you’re licking it off him instead of the spoon.”

“You’re a dork,” she replied, but she smiled.

“I know,” I said cheerfully. “But I’m a dork who knows her refrigerated toppings, and that’s mission-critical tonight. Let’s go.”

“I want you to meet Buck first,” she said. “You need to ask him about a job.”

I frowned. Did I really want to work at a strip club—especially one owned by the Reapers? Didn’t seem like the best way to distance myself …

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” she said. “Just talk to him, and then we’ll get back to what’s really important—ice cream and chick flicks. A sad one, please, because I’m definitely in the mood for a good cry. Let’s just talk to him, okay?”

“Not like you have anything to lose,” Em added, coming up beside us. “Find Buck, then we’ll ditch this place. I’m ready for a three-way with Ben and Jerry.”

Maggs took my hand and pulled me toward the crowd surrounding the fighters, Em trailing us like a puppy. I couldn’t see much of the fight, what with the wall of bikers cutting us off, but Maggs wormed her way through them like an expert. Soon we stood on the edge of the “ring,” which was just a line traced in the dirt. She was looking around for Buck, but the sound of a fist hitting flesh caught my full attention.

Ruger stood in the center of the circle, naked to the waist, hands bare, expression hostile. He was facing off against a man I didn’t know. He looked a little younger than Ruger, and based on the blood dripping down his face, Ruger was kicking his ass.

Em stumbled to a halt next to me.

“What the hell does Painter think he’s doing?” she muttered. “I can’t believe he’s fighting Ruger. That’s fucking stupid.”

“Why?” I asked, eyes glued to the men circling each other. I could see the top half of Ruger’s panther tattoo above his jeans. It really was perfect for him—every movement was lithe and smooth and utterly predatory.

“Ruger’s really good,” Em said shortly. “He’ll slaughter Painter.”

“Is that the one …?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice grim. “That’s him. The guy who won’t put out for me. I hope Ruger kicks his ass.”

Ruger chose that moment to plow his fist into Painter’s stomach, and the crowd roared. Painter gasped but he stayed upright, recovering surprisingly fast, at least to my uneducated eye.

“He’s over there,” Maggs said, grabbing my arm again. I looked at her blankly.

“Who’s over there?”

“Buck,” she said. “You wanted to talk to him about a job, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, forcing myself to look away from the circling boxers. What kind of idiots fought like this on purpose? Maggs dragged me through the crowd some more, coming to a halt next to a big man watching the fight with his arms crossed. He didn’t look too happy.

“Hey, Buck,” Maggs said brightly. He glanced down at her and raised a brow. I swallowed.

“Um, we can do this a different time,” I leaned in and whispered to Maggs. “He doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood.”

“He’s just like that,” she said. “Right, Buck? You’re always kind of a dick, aren’t you?”

The big man actually smiled.

“And you’re always kind of a bitch, but I like you anyway,” he said. “You ready to ditch Bolt’s ass and fuck a real man?”

“I think Jade might have a problem with that, and she’s a helluva good shot.”

This time the smile reached his eyes.

“That’s the fuckin’ truth,” he said. “God, but she can be a bitch. Never boring. So who’s this?”

“This is Sophie,” she said, jerking me forward. From the ring I heard the crack of flesh hitting flesh, and saw Painter staggering in the corner of my eye. Ruger circled him like a cat playing with its food. I forced myself not to pay attention, focusing on Buck instead. Talking to him couldn’t hurt.

“Sophie’s looking for a job,” Maggs added.

“Dancing?” he asked, raising a brow. His eyes crawled down my figure, assessing me closely in a new way—all business now.

“I want to waitress,” I said. “I’ve waited tables in bars before. Never a strip club, but I’m a hard worker. I hear it’s a good place to work.”

He studied me, face thoughtful.

“You belong to anyone?”

Maggs and I looked at each other, and I shook my head.

“Not really,” I answered.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“She—”

“Shut up, Maggs,” he said, although his tone wasn’t mean. “She can’t talk for herself, she’s got no place in my bar. So what’s the story, you belong to someone or not?”

There was a sudden flurry of activity between the fighters, a series of fast blows that I couldn’t quite follow in my peripheral vision. Based on the crowd’s reaction, things were getting interesting.

“You this slow takin’ drink orders?” Buck asked. “’Cause I don’t need a slow waitress.”

“Sorry,” I said, gathering myself. “Ruger is my son’s uncle.”

“He give you that ring around your neck?”

“Um, yeah,” I said, grimacing. “And I live with him. Nothing between us, though. I just really need a job.”

Buck eyed me speculatively, then glanced at Maggs. She smirked and rolled her eyes. Buck nodded slowly, then leaned over to the man next to him.

“Hundred bucks on Painter?”

The man stared at him, brows raising.

“You fuckin’ insane?”

“Nope,” Buck said. “We got a bet?”

“Sure, I’ll take your money. Kid’s almost finished.”

Buck turned back to me.

“Show me your tits,” he said.

My eyes widened.

“I’m not looking to dance,” I said quickly. “Just wait tables.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he replied. “But I need to make sure you’ll fill out the uniform right. You can leave your bra, but lift that shirt if you want a job.”

I glanced at Maggs, who nodded reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” she said, bright eyes darting between me, Buck, and the men fighting. “You need a decent rack to waitress at The Line. Go ahead, nobody will care.”

I took a deep breath, reached down, and pulled up my shirt all the way.

Two seconds later I heard a huge crash. Suddenly Ruger was between me and Buck, fist slamming into his face. Buck went down and Ruger followed, pounding him brutally.

I screamed as Maggs jerked me to the side, both of us ducking our heads and huddling together. Three guys jumped on Ruger, pulling him off Buck. He fought against them, cussing and growling. Picnic appeared, followed by Gage, who carried a bat.

“Shut the fuck up, everyone,” Picnic yelled. “Ruger, pull your shit together! You’re out of the ring, you forfeit. Now stop thinkin’ with your dick, jackass.”

“Let me go,” Ruger growled.

“You gonna pull your shit together?” Gage asked. Ruger nodded tightly and the guys let him go. Gage reached down to Buck, giving him a hand up. “We got a problem here?”

Buck spat out some blood and grinned, the bright red outlining his teeth horrifically and dripping down his chin. He looked like a serial killer.

“It’s all good,” he said, licking his lips. “Asshole just won a bet for me. Too fuckin’ easy.”

Then he glanced at me, still crouched next to Maggs, utterly stunned.

“No job,” he said. “Got enough bitch drama at the bar already.
At a fight, though? Perfect. Ruger always wins, fuckin’ beautiful moment. Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Um, okay,” I said quickly. “I think I’d do better working somewhere else anyway.”

Ruger glared at me, chest heaving, his entire body covered with a sheen of sweat.

“You asked him for a job?” he demanded, grabbing my arm and jerking me through the crowd. I tried to break away, but he didn’t even notice.

“Let me go!”

Ruger dragged me over to the courtyard wall and pinned me up against it, putting a hand on either side of my head as he got down into my face.

“What part of this is so fuckin’ complicated?” he asked, as angry as I’d ever seen him. Well, almost … “You don’t just go around flashing your tits. It’s not a difficult concept, Sophie.”

“Maggs said he needed to check me out for the waitress job,” I told him quickly. “She said it wasn’t personal, not a big deal at all.”

Ruger’s eyes darkened.

“When a man asks to see a woman’s tits, it’s
always
personal,” he said slowly and clearly. “And yours belong to me. No fuckin’ way I’m letting you work at The Line. And keep your damned shirt on. Christ, it’s like I’m talkin’ to myself half the time.”

“No worries,” I said, not bothering to argue. Pointless. “I’ve had enough of this club, I’m leaving. Em and I plan to watch movies and eat ice cream.”

Ruger stilled, then reached out and brushed my hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. I felt myself relax a little. Maybe he wasn’t as angry as I’d thought. Then his fingers slid deeper into my hair and his eyes hardened.

His hand tightened painfully as he jerked my mouth into his. His tongue stabbed deep into my mouth, possessive and dominant. His other hand caught my arm, jerking my body forward into his as
he twisted it up and behind me. One knee shoved between my legs, and he slanted his head, taking everything he wanted and more.

My body loved it, the faithless bitch.

The fight had left him sweaty all over, sending out pheromones so strong it’s a wonder I could still stand upright. I wanted to wrap my arms around him but he held me too tight, controlling every move.

I was starting to sense a pattern with Mr. Don’t-Come-Until-I-Tell-You.

Finally he pulled away, both of us gasping for breath. He still held me tight, completely incapable of movement even if I’d wanted to get away, which I didn’t. My brain had checked out a while back. His hips ground into me, cock more than ready to finish things off.

“You belong to me,” he said, voice harsh.

“Ruger—” I started, but a sudden, loud, feminine scream tore through the air.

Ruger dropped me and spun around, covering me with his body as he scoped out the situation. The screaming continued, and then I heard a roar of masculine rage. In the dim firelight I saw a man tear across the courtyard, with about ten more guys chasing him. He hit the far wall, jumped high and caught the top with his hands, pulling himself over.

“Holy shit,” I muttered.

“Stay out of the way,” Ruger said, turning to me. His eyes were deadly serious, and for once I had every intention of doing exactly what he said. “I’ll send one of the girls over, then you get the fuck outta here. Walk to your cars together. Got me?”

“Shouldn’t we call the cops?” I asked as the screaming died down. Now I heard crying and angry shouting. “Someone’s hurt. What the hell is going on?”

“No idea what happened,” Ruger replied. “We’ll get help, no worries. But don’t call the cops. We handle things ourselves, within the club. Do what I say for once and wait for me to send someone
over. Then go home and stay there. I can’t deal with this and worry about you, too.”

I nodded and he kissed me hard, then ran off toward the Armory gate. In the distance I heard bikes roar to life and then a gunshot. I slid down the wall and sat, knees drawn up tight against my chest, and did my best to obey Ruger perfectly.

Maggs came over ten minutes later. Her face was grim and she had streaks of blood on her arm. I stood and threw my arms around her, clutching her tight.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“Fucking Toke,” she muttered. “There’s some sort of club shit going down. They voted on it today, supposed to be a done deal, but Toke—he’s out of Portland—had a few too many beers and decided there should be a recount. He started fighting with Deke and pulled a goddamned knife, waving it around like a jackass.”

“Who was screaming?” I asked. I pulled away and looked down at her arm. “You’re all bloody. Who got hurt?”

Her eyes hardened.

“Em,” she said. “Cocksucker caught Em with his knife.”

Shock hit me and I felt myself sway.

“Did anyone call an ambulance?” I asked, glancing around the courtyard. Beyond the fire I saw someone sitting on the ground, surrounded by women.