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Reaper

“I didn’t even know the Langham served hamburgers,” Sinclair said, sitting across from me as he watched Sandman hoover up his third double cheeseburger while sucking down another chocolate milkshake.

Leaning back in my chair, I chuckled. “I’ve never met anyone who’s told Sandman no and lived.”

“Apparently,” the man replied, reaching for his glass of wine. “You asked for this meeting, Mr. Doherty. How can I help you?”

“Don’t want anything. Just wanted to meet you.”

“Why?” The man frowned.

“Let’s just say I like knowing all the players.”

“That implies I have a hand to play.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Touché.” The man saluted with his glass before taking a drink. “I must say, I was rather surprised when Rowen told me that Lena reached out to him at your behest. I was rather intrigued. The President of the famed Golden Skulls requesting a meeting with the likes of me.”

“What can I say? I’m a sociable person.”

“Let’s stop with all the pleasantries and get down to the reason for this meeting, Mr. Doherty. You don’t strike me as someone who likes to, shall I dare say, play with their food.”

“Who is Thena Hartley and why are you looking for her?”

Crispin Sinclair didn’t move. In fact, he didn’t even blink. The man was ice fucking cold, and if looks could kill, he’d give anything to put a fucking bullet in my head.

Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on the crisp white linen table and added, “You don’t know me, Mr. Sinclair. So let me explain something important. I can be your biggest ally or your worst fucking nightmare. I don’t care either way, but one thing you will learn about me is I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

The man sighed. “There were five of us that escaped the Trick Pony. Thena was one of them. She’s missing, and I want to find her.”

“She’s the daughter of Popeye. A brother in the Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club. That makes her biker royalty. My advice is to stay the fuck away from her.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

The man slowly shook his head. “That is my business.”

Leaning back in my chair, I sighed. “Then you have a problem. The biker world is a small world, Mr. Sinclair. We don’t take to outsiders, and we sure as hell don’t like some suit coming for one of our own. So, what’s stopping me from finding her myself and granting her sanctuary?”

Sinclair smirked and simply said, “Sarah Greene.”

When I said nothing, the soon-to-be-dead fucker grinned. “Mutual assured destruction. You see, Mr. Doherty, you are not the only one with something to lose. I don’t care about your biker world. All I care about is my family, and let me assure you, Thena Hartley is mine. You help me find her and I will assure Montana never learns the truth.”

“And why would I trust you?”

“Because, Mr. Doherty, like you, my word is law. To use your own words, I can be your biggest ally or your worst fucking nightmare. Now, in the hope that we can find a way to work together, I will tell you that tonight at the Gentlemen’s Club, Montana Stone will be meeting with Benson Graves. A man I am sure you are well aware of.”

I growled. I fucking knew that motherfucker. He was the money man for Petrovitch and Baranov. Fucker was a thief and went where the money was. Everyone wanted that son of a bitch dead.

“Anyhow, you should also know that Graves is planning on handing Montana information regarding your club.”

“What information?”

Sinclair shrugged. “That, he wasn’t forthcoming with, but he did say it would be enough to destroy the Golden Skulls forever. I must say that Graves was rather happy about that, too. For such a small club, you sure do rattle a lot of cages. Tell me, Reaper, what do you remember from your time in your cage?”

Jumping to my feet, I pulled my gun from inside my cut and aimed it at his fucking head. “Give me a motherfucking good reason not to pull this trigger, asshole.”

Crispin Sinclair sat back in his chair and smiled.

“There is the Reaper I know.”

“You don’t fucking know shit!”

“I know more than you think, just like I know that you won’t pull that trigger. Contrary to belief, you don’t kill without reason. So do us both a favor and put that gun away before the waiter calls the police.”

When I refused to lower my gun, Sinclair took a deep breath and said, “I killed Walter.”

“Please, no!” the girl cried.

“I won’t do it!” I shouted.

“Oh yes, you will.” The man laughed as he looked at one of the other men. “Because if you don’t, I will let Walter fuck you in the ass until you submit. Then he’s going to tear into that girl and make you watch.”

I don’t know when it happened, but the second I felt tears streaming down my face, I knew there would be no saving me. Even in her drugged state, the girl feared the other man as she scooted closer to me. We were both about to be forced to do something neither of us was ready for. I may be the son of a biker, but I was only fifteen. I had never even kissed a girl before. What they were asking was sickening.

It was then that I knew I was in hell.

Minutes, hours, days went by. Every second blurred into the other. All I knew was that the horror of what I had done had ingrained itself into my soul. The man named Walter had his fun with the both of us until neither of us could stop ourselves.

To end the pain, we finally did what they wanted.

Shaking off the memory, I slowly lowered my gun and sat back down as I tried to get my heart to slow. My demon was raging, clawing, demanding to be let out. It had been years since I thought about that motherfucker. The vile nature of him still sent a shiver of dread coursing down my spine.

Leaning forward, Sinclair whispered, “You were not the only victim of his. What he did to you was nothing compared to the hell he put Thena through. He was an extremely violent man with unnatural sadistic tendencies. He suffered for days before I ended him. You see, Maxwell, you and I are a lot alike. We come from similar backgrounds, and I need your help.”

Looking at the man, I whispered, “You want me to find Thena?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “You help me find her and I will help you with Montana.”

“How do you know about that?”

“You will learn that there is rarely information I don’t know regarding the underworld.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will wish you well and part ways. The choice is yours,” Sinclair said, getting to his feet. Buttoning his suit jacket, he added, “I will give you twenty-four hours to make your decision. Should you choose to part ways, I wish you nothing but happiness, Maxwell, and congratulations on your new baby.”

Saying nothing more, I sat there and watched as the man left the hotel restaurant.

It was late when I walked into the Gentlemen’s Club, along with Bullseye and Massacre, only to be greeted by a blur of blonde hair as it hurled itself right into my arms. I hugged her tightly as she squealed. “Oh My God! You are here!”

Setting the woman down on her feet, I grinned. “Can’t come to the city and not see my favorite Italian chick.”

“How long are you staying? Is Remi with you?”

“Only for a day, and Remi is at the hotel with Sandman.”

She frowned. “Then you’re here on business.”

“Oh, beautiful, you know I’ll always make time for you.”

“Get your fucking hands off my sister,” a familiar voice said from behind me. Turning, I held onto the woman and smirked. “Can’t help it if she prefers me to you. What are you doing here, anyway? Thought you retired?”

“So did I,” Giovanni groaned. “The Italian Council got word there was a meeting tonight and asked me to sit in.”

“Well, at least the Bloodletter isn’t here.”

“I’m here,” Fedorov growled from behind me and added, “Now get your hands off my wife.”

Quickly taking charge, Illyria extricated herself from my arms and said, “This way, gentlemen, the meeting has already started.”

“Fucker,” I sneered, following Illyria as she escorted us to the meeting room. “I was only hugging her.”

“Go hug your own wife.”

Before I could say anything more, Illyria opened a door and said, “Montana, you have some unexpected guests that have arrived and are requesting, or should I say, demanding to sit in on this meeting.”

Not giving Montana a chance to respond, the beautiful woman stepped to the side as Giovanni Valentinetti and Maxim Fedorov, along with Vladmir Ivenok, walked into the room. However, when I walked in behind them with Bullseye and Massacre, I smiled at the fucker sitting at the table as he stiffened, then groaned. He reached for his phone, quickly typing something before sitting back in his chair, saying nothing as I took a seat at the other end of the table.

“How’s the leg, asshole?”

Montana growled.

“Hello, Benson,” Giovanni politely greeted, taking a seat next to Mercy.

Maxim just sneered at the fucker when he took the seat next to me.

Benson gulped.

“Now for the rules.” Illyria smiled, taking charge. “I love all of you. Except you, Benson. You are going to get what you deserve. Now, since I don’t trust you boys not to kill each other, I am sitting in on this meeting, which is my right as the owner of this club. Anyone got a problem with that?”

Everyone shook their head—no.

Massacre leaned toward Gio and whispered, “Cuz is still scary.”

Shoving him away, Giovanni firmly said, “Stop being a nuisance and call your mother.”

“I did call her. Two months ago.”

“Uncle,” Bullseye snarled, standing behind me.

Maxim glared at his nephew, before turning to Gio. “Where is my niece?”

“How is my daughter?” Vladmir asked, staring at me.

I smirked, then shrugged my shoulders. “ My wife is happy and sated.”

Maxim grabbed Vladmir’s arm, slowly shaking his head.

“Maybe I should just leave.” Benson went to get up from his seat, and everyone around the table pulled a gun and pointed it right at him.

The man gulped, slowly sitting back down.

Leaning back in my chair, I looked at Montana and said, “So, fucknuts, when were you gonna let me know?”

“Know what?” Montana sneered.

“That your soon-to-be-dead brother married a Golden Legacy.”

“Shit,” Fury whispered while Malice stiffened.

“That’s biker business. Why are Fedorov and Valentinetti here?”

“Because of him,” Fedorov said, looking at Benson, who sank deeper into his seat.

“He’s mine,” Montana snarled.

“Nah, I beg to differ,” I snarked, turning to Benson. “Benson belongs to everyone. Isn’t that right, asshole?”

Benson gulped as Bullseye pointed his gun at the idiot. “Boss asked you a fucking question, shit for brains.”

“I wasn’t going to tell him!” Benson cried. “I swear!”

“Tell me what?” Montana perked up, grinning.

“Nothing! I want an attorney.”

Everyone around the table laughed.

“My God, you’re an idiot.” Mercy chuckled. “This isn’t a court of law, Benson. You don’t get an attorney. You will however get a bullet to the brain if you don’t start talking.”

“He talks, I’ll kill him myself.” Fedorov glared, and Vladmir grinned.

While it was fun watching Benson squirm, he wasn’t the one I was here for.

“So, where is he?” I asked, looking around the room.

“Who?”

“The soon-to-be-dead Soulless Sinner.”

“You are not killing my brother!” Montana roared.

Chuckling, I leaned back in my chair. “Okay. Then I will take my Golden Legacy and her daughter home with me.”

“Harlow is also a Sinner. The kid stays,” Montana snarled.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, fucknuts. Either I take ‘em both, or you hand over your brother.”

“Oh, come on, Reaper,” Mercy groaned. “Storm loves Delany, and you know it. She’s pregnant with their second child. Are you really willing to hurt her over some stupid fucking vendetta you have with Montana?”

“Fine.” I grinned, then pointed my finger at the smiling asshole at the other end of the table and said, “I will acknowledge the marriage and give my blessing, if fucknuts here will admit to being a douche canoe.”

“That’s it!” Montana shouted, getting to his feet, reaching for his guns as Mercy, Fury, and Malice rushed to stop him.

“God, I missed this shit.” Massacre laughed loudly, watching the drama, only to shut up instantly when Giovanni glared at him.

“Do not encourage them.”

“What!” Massacre scoffed. “I didn’t say shit. I’ve been sitting here minding my own business. Besides, Montana is gonna get what he deserves. Fucker left me hanging out to dry with Petrovitch.”

“That was not my fault, and you fucking know it!” Montana roared as he shoved his brothers off him.

Mercy groaned, pocketing Montana’s guns as he took his seat again. “Massacre, do everyone a favor and shut the hell up.”

“Don’t talk to my cousin that way,” Giovanni clipped angrily. “He wouldn’t have been in danger if it wasn’t for you two assholes.”

“We are not rehashing that argument again.” Fedorov sighed.

Benson muttered, looking at Montana, “It was your fault.”

The room went deathly quiet.

“What was my fault, asshole?”

“His blown cover. George Stone told Baranov that Massacre was a plant. That’s why Massacre’s cover was blown. You told your dad and your dad told his friends.”

I threw my head back and laughed.

My God. This shit was priceless.

Everyone turned and stared at Montana, who had enough fucking brains in his head to sit and say absolutely fucking nothing.

“Tell me you didn’t?” Maxim Fedorov asked, glaring at the man.

When Montana stayed quiet, I sobered, looking across the table, and said, “You know something, fucknuts. For a man who claims to be smart, you sure are stupid. Even I know not to discuss the details of a blood pact.”

Montana groaned, knowing he was in the wrong. “What do you want?”

“I want to meet Storm.”

Montana shook his head. “Can’t do that, Reaper. I know you. You’ll kill him just for breathing.”

“You don’t have a choice here, Montana. You openly discussed a blood pact with a non-sitting member of your club. Even I know that’s against biker law,” Giovanni stated.

“They’re right, boss,” Mercy added. “I hate it, but they are right.”

Getting to his feet, Montana clearly said, “I don’t give a fuck. This meeting is over. Malice, grab Benson. That fucker is coming with me.”

“I don’t think so, fucknuts.”

“And who’s gonna stop me?” Montana challenged, and that’s when everyone stood up.