Page 24 of Reaper & the Lioness (Lone Star Mavericks MC #1)

Chapter Eighteen

T he rain pelted my leather jacket as I jogged into the clubhouse, the familiar scent of leather, motor oil, and stale beer hitting me like a punch to the gut. My muscles ached from a morning spent fixing a leaky roof, but there was no rest for the wicked. I stepped inside and shook off the rain.

A familiar scene played before me. Thane sat at the bar with a cigarette dangling from his lips, drinking with Linc and Jack. Bones huddled in the corner with Merrick, their grease-stained hands tinkering with a bike. Archer and a few prospects hovered near the pool table.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Thane called out with a shit-eating grin across his face. He took a long draw of his cigarette. The smoke curled around him as much as his smugness did. “Thought you might’ve forgotten about us.”

I flipped him off as I approached the bar. “Some of us have actual work to do, dickhole.”

Thane slid a beer my way. “Uh-huh. And does this ‘work’ have long legs, pretty blue eyes, and a smart mouth?”

I cracked it open and took a long pull from the bottle, fighting to keep my face neutral. “I’m busy running a company all day. Now I’m here to talk club business.”

“Oh, I know. But I also know you. I bet she’s getting under your skin more than you’re willing to admit. And I’ve seen the way you look at her. Boys, I think Reaper has a crush on our consultant.”

I glared at him as I drained the bottle. He could read me like a damn book. I reached behind the bar for another beer as I ignored the jeering from the guys.

Once the rest of the club’s officers trickled in, we headed to Thane’s office for Church.

“Has the shit Danielle’s stirred up settled yet?” I asked after calling the meeting to order.

Linc huffed. “Not according to her Facebook. But she’s lost momentum. Enough people watched the city hall debacle, and some people are starting to push back. One Facebook group even kicked her out.”

Thane stroked his goatee. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, pausing as he collected his thoughts. “As much as we fucking hate her, that kid still belongs to one of our fallen brothers. Usually, we take care of old ladies and the family if a brother passes.”

I gritted my teeth. “She was never a fucking old lady.”

Thane leveled a look at me and held up one finger. I silenced my opposition out of respect. Barely.

“She wasn’t. But I think we can make this problem go away. I think we have enough in the Maverick Widows’ Trust to set up a college fund for Sebastian. Kid’s only nine.”

“So, we make her a deal?” Jack asked, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping a few keys. As treasurer, he tracked our accounting and investments.

“She has a GoFundMe for the kid’s outstanding medical bills,” Linc added. “Says she owes $27,000. Only about $7,000 has been funded so far.”

Jack turned his phone to face us, showing the cash we had on hand in the fund dedicated to helping the women and children left behind when a club member unexpectedly died.

“Let’s say college costs $160,000 in ten years.

We could give her an even $200,000. I can write a check for $20,000 to the hospital for the bills. ”

Thane nodded. “I remember Russell saying Danielle blew through money like a goddamn QVC addict, so we sure as fuck aren’t giving her the cash directly.”

Jack slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I can set up a trust for Sebastian. He gets it when he turns eighteen. Keeps her grimy fucking fingers off it and honors Russell.”

I tapped my fingers on the table. “You think she’ll back off?”

Thane scoffed. “She’ll have to. I’ll have the lawyer draw something up. We only pay the bills if she agrees to never speak another word about the Lone Star Mavericks MC. All in favor, say aye.”

Unanimous ayes rumbled through the room.

It was the right move to support the kid, even though we fucking hated his mom.

Had she not been a pain in our assess since the day of the accident, we’d probably have made the offer out of the goodness of our hearts—or whatever you call the thing in our chest that kept most of us from becoming complete menaces to society.

“Good,” Thane grumbled. “I never want to hear her fucking name again.”

“Now that we’ve settled that issue, let’s move on,” I said, changing the subject before Hatchet said her name just to piss Thane off. “What’s the status on the Ranger situation?”

The mood in the room shifted. “We got a message this morning,” Merrick said. “From their president.”

“And?”

Thane’s earlier grin shifted into a grim expression. “Hickok wants a sitdown. Wants to talk about a truce.”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe that for one fucking second.” The Rangers were a festering wound. If we didn’t deal with them soon, the infection would spread.

Thane flexed his jaw. “You’re right. We’ll plan it today.

We take the meeting to them and give them three choices—they either stay the fuck out of Houston, patch over, or die.

And no matter what they choose, they stop slinging dirty coke.

Rodriguez told me two college kids OD’d on fentanyl-laced blow last weekend. ”

“If Hickok’s calling for a truce, it’s because he’s scared or he’s setting a trap,” Merrick said. “They’ll never patch over. The Rangers will never give us peace. We’ve been their enemy since my dad started this club.”

I cracked my neck, working my jaw to release the tension. “So, we go in hot. We know we won’t get peace, so we give them an ultimatum instead. I met Poe, the VP, at Sturgis. I’ve heard he and a few guys are tired of Hickok’s shit. They might welcome the end of an era. A fresh start.”

Thane tilted his head, catching my drift. “You think they’ll turn on him?”

I shrugged. “Hickok’s just been running the club into the ground.”

Thane lit a cigarette. “Either way, we’re probably sending him packing with a bullet. He’s been a plague to Texas for too long.”

“We’ll have to decide on the spot if we give Poe the chance to write a new chapter.”

As we discussed ideas and contingencies, the air grew thick with cigarette smoke and tension. We hammered out a plan to send one last message to the Rangers and end the brewing conflict between our clubs. After two hours, Thane slammed down the gavel and passed around a fifth of Jack Daniel’s.

“Dinner at your place tonight,” Thane informed me after taking a shot. “Apparently, the ladies made plans.”

“Have they? This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

Thane grinned. “Rhetta says you’re in charge of the steaks. Apparently, Eva can’t be trusted in the kitchen.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it. I think she’d live off potato chips and chocolate if I didn’t cook for her. I baked her muffins this morning.” The words slipped out before I could stop myself. Fuck me.

Thane roared with laughter. “You baked muffins for her?”

“Shut the fuck up. If I don’t leave her with food, she’ll text me all day like I’m her snack bitch.”

Thane shook his head, still grinning. “Didn’t realize you were running a bed and breakfast. You’re a goddamn Martha Stewart. You’re losing your edge—going all domestic on me.”

“I’m not losing my edge. I’m keeping her alive, just like you asked. Feeding her is part of that.”

“You tired of pretending you don’t want more from her than this roommate situation? A relationship would be good for you.”

I shook my head. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t do relationships. I was Reaper, for fuck’s sake. Cold. Calculating. Lethal. No attachments. No distractions.

I fought the urge to defend myself further because it would only encourage him. “I need to get back to work. I’ll see you tonight.”

I flipped Thane off as I walked away, and the sound of his laughter followed me out of the clubhouse.

As much as I enjoyed having Eva locked away in my cabin, my brother still hadn’t updated me about where the Abells were hiding so we could end the threat on her life.

Me: Any updates?

Linc: Right after they put out the contract, they boarded a plane for a vacation in Switzerland. I’m guessing their plan was to return after she was confirmed dead.

Me: When are they scheduled to fly back?

Linc: Not sure yet.

Me: Okay, keep an eye on them.

Linc: Got it, boss.

Me: By the way, Thane and Rhetta are coming to my place for dinner. If you come, bring your own beer.

Linc: You sure it’s okay if I crash your double date?

Me: Fuck off. You’re not invited anymore.

I tried to focus on the road ahead, but the wind whipped past me with my running thoughts as I left the clubhouse.

This thing with Eva seemed different than my previous hookups.

Not just a quick fuck to scratch an itch, but something more.

My chest tightened in an unfamiliar way as I thought of her.

The touch of her lips. The sound of her breathy moans and gasps.

The way she fit perfectly against me. It went beyond physical, though.

Eva's clever quips and the way she laughed.

Her sharp intelligence. Her fearlessness.

I'd watched her warm with every interaction with the club. Maisie already treated her with the same love and respect as she did the other old ladies. She’d helped Jack feel comfortable on camera and defended us at the market.

I'd even felt her eyes on me as I played with Tilly, Talia, and Leo at the cookout.

She understood we were more than just outlaws with motorcycles.

This woman drew me in. Every part of my dark heart wanted her. But could she want every part of me?

I kicked open the door with an armful of groceries.

Eva glanced up from her laptop, and her face lit with a smile that sent my heart racing.

I could overhear a man regaling her with a story about the fish he’d caught that morning.

I sat the groceries down and put the cold beer in the refrigerator until Hawk started tearing at the paper bags to get to the steaks.

“Hey, asshole. Get out of there. Those aren’t for you.”