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Reaper

Leaning against the bar, I watched as brothers milled around, bored out of their minds. Had to admit, I was itching for a fight too.

This shit had gone on long enough.

The endgame was almost here. I just needed to be prepared and make sure that all the players were present when I unleased my demon because hell would freeze over before I let one of those mother fuckers get away. Ghost standing next to me, nursed a beer as we waited for the damn wedding planner to arrive. Another fucking thing I had to take care of.

I just wanted one day.

One mother fucking day of peace.

When Hangman handed me the picture and I saw everything in black and white, an odd peace settled over me as everything started to fall into place. I was no longer worried about what I was going to do.

I knew.

It was an easy decision too. I would rather trust those I knew than those I didn’t and I sure as hell didn’t trust St. James. That mother fucker had been shady with me since I met him. Always giving me enough information to keep me on the hook but never enough to make me cut tail and run. The bastard was playing me and I had the proof. Though I was happy to have that monkey off my back, now

I saw his face when Patrick walked into Church as I slid the picture to Phantom. The fucker wasn’t as calm and cool as he wanted everyone to believe.

I knew he recognized Patrick.

Since he’d shown his face in my club, I’d been watching the man, waiting for any tell to let me know he was not on the level. He’d been solid until today; that was all I needed to know.

Patrick showing his face scared him. I just needed to know how deep this treachery went and there was only one person I could ask. When everyone cleared out of church, I snapped a pic of the photo and sent it to the only person who made sense of what I was seeing. When I got an immediate response telling me everything I was already suspecting, everything fell into place.

It was all there in black and white.

No more gray.

Now it was up to me to decide what to do with what I knew.

Ghost took a long drink of his beer, sitting next to me before asking. “Wanna tell me who made that shot?”

“Nope,” I said, taking a drink of my own beer. I wasn’t ready to show all my cards. I needed to be sure of everything before I did.

I knew I was playing a fucked-up game that could shit sideways fast, but until I had all the information, I kept what I knew to myself. In time, everything would come out. Until then, I needed to ensure the safety of Remi and my kid.

“I’m not stupid.”

“Never even thought you were, Ghost,” I said, leaning back against the bar.

“He won’t help you, Reaper. You can’t rely on him.”

Fuck, if he only knew the real truth, he wouldn’t be saying that. However, Ghost was right about one thing. Seeing him again was not something I was looking forward to. If anyone on this planet had every right to give me the beatdown of a lifetime, it was him.

I failed him.

In so many ways. I would never know why he was still willing to help out the club, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The man was a conundrum on a good day. Moody and quiet, trying to understand him were like trying to understand Sanskrit.

Impossible.

Still, he was one of us, even if he refused to wear the colors anymore. He was also the only person on the planet besides my Remi that I truly trusted.

“He won’t turn his back on us,” I said mainly to myself, praying I was right about him as I spotted my woman walking down the stairs. Fuck she was smoking hot today. I wanted so much to bend her over this damn bar and fuck her brains out. I bet she’d let me too, not that I would let any of my brothers see my woman in the throes of passion. That shit was just for me.

However, the pissed-off look on her face worried me.


Tags: Rebecca Joyce Dark