Page 8 of Reaper & the Lioness (Lone Star Mavericks MC #1)

Chapter Six

E ach interaction with Eva left me with a gnawing sense of irritation.

My patch prompted either fear or fawning from most women—she gave me neither. She acted unafraid of who I was or what I could do, and she hadn’t attempted to flirt her way onto my bike or into my bed. It unsettled me.

“Flip to twenty-six,” I barked across the room to Leah, our bartender. She changed the TV channel just in time for us to watch Jack’s smiling face and the story that painted him as your friendly neighborhood mechanic and high school mentor.

Linc sidled up beside me and pressed a cold beer into my hand. “So, what’s your read on Eva?”

I shot him a sidelong glance. The story on screen drew my attention back as I watched the clips of Jack pretending to work on the truck wearing his cut, proudly showing his membership to the club. I had to admit it was brilliant of Eva to ask him to wear it.

“I’m still figuring her out. How deep was her background check?”

“Standard-level shit.”

“Go deeper.”

Linc raised his eyebrows at my request. “Why?”

I took a long pull from my beer. “Something she said in passing. My gut is telling me there’s more. Go back further. Check into her family. Her friends. Her fuck buddies. Hell, look into where she went to high school. We’re missing something.”

Linc looked skeptical, trying to work out what exactly I sought and why I cared.

“Good fucking story, right?” Thane’s meaty hand landed on my shoulder, gripping tight before releasing. He nodded to the TV. “I want you to be there for the next one.”

I bristled. “What do you mean, the next one?”

Thane pulled a pack of smokes from the front pocket of his flannel, taking a Marlboro between his lips and lighting up. “Maisie is delivering muffins and coffee to the women’s shelter Thursday morning. Reading to the kids, too. You’re going.”

My stomach dropped and I groaned. “Fuck me. Why?”

“First, I want one of us there to make sure the publicity doesn’t stir up any unwanted attention—from the Rangers in particular, but also if Danielle shows up spouting about the boycott.

Second, I’m not entirely sure we can trust Eva yet.

She’s good at what she does, but she’s an outsider.

I need you to make sure she’s not digging too deep or asking the wrong questions. ”

“Don’t you have someone else you can send?”

Thane shook his head. “Nope. I need Linc to put together plans for our next run, and Merrick is heading to Illinois for Merci’s graduation. It was cancelled in December because of that ice storm and they rescheduled it for this weekend.”

“No shit. The kid is graduating from med school already?”

Thane nodded. “Top of her class at Northwestern.”

“Yeah, Merrick can’t miss that. He’s worked too hard to get his baby sister to the finish line.”

Thane continued his line of thought. “I know you have your reasons for not wanting to, but I need you there. You’re the VP. I trust you to know when to step in.”

Memories flashed through my mind. Off-brand grape juice boxes, threadbare sheets on a cot, and stuffed animals that’d seen better days.

I ran a hand across the back of my neck in frustration. My jaw clenched at the thought of shadowing our consultant while she paraded around town, stirring up fuck all. I had better things to do with my time—a company to run, weapons deals to broker, rivals to keep in check.

It was just like Thane to delegate something like this to me.

Hiring the consultant was his shitty idea, not mine, but I understood the necessity of having a club officer on site.

If Eva started to head in the wrong direction, someone needed to run interference.

And since Thane planned to retire within the next few years and wanted me to become president when he stepped down, he’d begun to give me more responsibility.

“Fine,” I growled, not bothering to hide my displeasure. “I’ll babysit the consultant.”

Thane chuckled at my outburst. “At least the view is good. She’s got a nice rack and wears those tight jeans. I apologize for making you suffer, brother.”

I ignored his comment. The last thing I needed was to think about how Eva filled out her blue jeans.

I drained the last of my beer and slammed the glass bottle to the bartop harder than necessary.

“If this goes sideways, I’m pulling the plug.

Not just on whatever story she has reporters out to cover, but this entire goddamn PR circus. I’m not fucking kidding.”

Thane nodded, his expression serious. “That’s why I’m sending you.” He crushed his cigarette on the clay ashtray. It was godawful, but he loved it because his nephew made it. “You’ve got the judgment to know when to step in. And you’ll know if we need to stop working with Eva entirely.”

As I left Thane’s office, the familiar burden of club leadership settled on my shoulders. He respected me like a brother, trusting me with the club’s present and future.

I knew he thought Eva’s efforts would ultimately help the club, but the truth didn’t make this assignment any less of a pain in the ass.

I couldn’t shake the nagging thought that this woman would cause more trouble than she was worth.

But the club came first, always. If keeping an eye on Eva was what we needed right now, then that’s what I’d do.

T he rumble of my Harley announced my arrival, and I couldn’t help but grin at the flash of irritation that crossed Eva’s face as she realized it was me.

Before I could even kill the engine, she tore into me, eyes blazing.

“Absolutely not. You’re not coming in to intimidate another reporter.”

I swung off the bike. “I’m not here to intimidate. Just to make sure the right story gets told.”

I liked how the fury built in her eyes. She squared off, hands on her hips.

“That’s my job. Storytelling is my lane. Yours is … whatever you do as a VP.” She waved her hand at my bike dismissively.

I opened my mouth to retort, but Maisie’s van pulled up, defusing some of the tension.

She stepped out, wearing her cut for the news crew, and opened the back door to reveal boxes of fresh pastries and two large disposable jugs of hot coffee from the grounds she roasted at her bakery. I wrapped an arm around her in a hug.

“I promise not to intimidate anyone. I’ll carry these in and stay at the back of the room.” I smirked as her eyes narrowed at me. Maybe she did have more bite than bark.

“Fine,” Eva growled. “But if at any fucking point I notice someone is uncomfortable with your presence, you leave. This isn’t about you or your little club. These women have been through hell, and I will not let an eight-foot-tall ogre intimidate them.”

Maisie laughed as she patted my arm. “Come on, dear,” she said, handing Eva a coffee jug. “Let the ogre do the heavy lifting. We might as well take advantage of him.”

I raised a brow. “Yes. Please, take advantage of me.”

Eva blushed and then huffed, mumbling under her breath and walking away without a second glance.

The familiar scent of industrial cleaner, thrifted clothing, and desperation cut through me like a set of throwing knives as I carried the boxes into the shelter.

I sucked in a shallow breath. This place stirred up memories I’d fought for years to bury.

I sighed as I set the boxes on the table, trying to steady the emotion that threatened to rise.

I scanned the room, taking in the worn furniture and scattered toys.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot and clenched my fists.

Maisie gave me a knowing glance as if she sensed the turmoil rolling in my gut.

She probably remembered what she’d seen the day Don had called the club to come to my mother’s rescue.

A few women cast wary glances at me, but most ignored my presence. I could sense the suffocating weight of their stories mixing with my own dark history.

“Text me if you need anything else. I’ll wait with my bike.” My voice came out rough and too loud in the quiet room. I didn’t wait for a reply. I stepped outside and let the door thud shut behind me.

Leaning against my bike, I tried to shake off the ghosts of my past. Mom, Linc, and I spent time in a shelter just like this. It might have even been this one. I couldn’t recall.

Linc, young and resilient, adapted quickly.

But I was old enough to recognize the haunted look in Mom’s eyes.

I could still hear the tremor in her voice as she spoke to the crisis counselor when she thought we slept.

The snapshot of her bruised and battered face flashed before me, and I clenched my jaw, willing the images away.

That was a lifetime ago. She was safe now.

Desperate for a distraction, I pulled out my phone to skim through emails.

The potential contract for Conroe’s new charter school loomed in my mind.

It would be a game-changer for my construction company—new hires, including a project manager, and a chance to make Grimm Construction a bigger fish in the Greater Houston market.

If the boycott didn’t threaten my chance at winning the bid.

I shook the thought from my mind. My company would recover. Even if we didn’t get the charter school contract, others would come along. The boycott would fade from memory, and the social media warriors would find something else to be angry about.

I didn’t need to complicate my life by allowing Eva to help.

Finally, nearly an hour later, Eva emerged with the reporter. She offered smiles and handshakes to the news crew before walking toward the southern magnolia I stood beneath.

I slipped my phone back into the pocket of my cut as I watched her approach, a strange feeling stirring in my chest.

Eva’s eyes shone bright with enthusiasm. Her work fueled her, filling her with a radiating energy. “Maisie wants to stay a bit longer. The kids adore her. She read a book about motorcycles and even made her own sound effects. It was so damn cute.”

I glanced back at the building, my expression stoic. I moved to my bike, swinging a leg over and turning my baseball hat backward.

“One of the little boys even asked to try on her cut,” she added. “Then he said he wanted to be a motorcycle when he grows up.” She let out a small laugh, gazing at me as she waited for a response. I remained silent.

“She wants to offer at least one of the women a job at the bakery. She said Don would swing by in a few minutes, so you can leave.”

I nodded, pressing the ignition on my bike. The sooner I left this haunted place, with its echoes of a past I’d rather forget, the better.

“I guess I’ll talk to you at the next one?” Her tone seemed almost taunting. It was as if she wanted to push my buttons, to remind me I had no interest in being her chaperone. “Thanks for coming.”

I huffed. “My pleasure.” My voice dripped with sarcasm and dark malice that usually sent most women skittering. But instead of flinching, Eva smiled, throwing me off balance as she climbed into her Jeep.

This woman was dangerous—not because she feared me, but because she didn’t. And a part of me was starting to like it.

T he dim light of the back office cast long shadows across the room as I closed the door. Dixon’s boot tapped on the floor impatiently. Thane was away, but I’d asked Dixon to meet to discuss a potential contract before Merrick hit the road.

I spread my palms across the top of Thane’s desk as I stretched my neck from side to side, my muscles still tense from the morning. “All right. You’ve been itching for a job. One just came in this morning.”

Dixon leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement and desperation. He’d probably lost all his money at the casino in Livingston last weekend. “About fucking time.”

Merrick laid out a dossier, spreading a handful of pages across the clean desk. “The target is a high-profile exec in Houston. Oil company bigwig,” I explained. “Seven figures. The kill needs to be clean. This can’t be like the San Antonio fiasco last month.”

Contract killing jobs were rare but lucrative, and we had a reputation for handling contracts with discretion and efficiency. Only the club’s officers and Dixon knew about this particular “service” we offered.

Dixon broke the silence. “So, am I taking this one or what?”

Merrick and I exchanged glances. His expression was unreadable, as always. “It’s yours,” I confirmed. “The club gets twenty percent, as always. And this time, you follow the plan. No cowboy shit.”

Dixon grinned. “You got it, boss.”

“If I have to send Merrick in to unfuck this job after you make a mess, I’ll kill you myself.”

Dixon leaned back in his chair, unbothered by my threat. “Speaking of unfucking things, what’s this I hear about some PR chick sniffing around the club? Hatchet said Thane hired her as a consultant?”

Merrick’s face darkened, contrasting with the scar slashed across his cheek. “It’s a fucking mistake, if you ask me. Having some outsider poking around? It’s asking for trouble.”

I ground my teeth. “You’re not wrong. But …”

“But what?” Dixon pressed.

“She’s good at what she does,” I admitted. “I’ve been watching her work. So far, she’s sticking to what Thane wants—helping the businesses.”

Merrick’s gaze narrowed, his eyes piercing in the dim light. “And if she gets out of line? Finds out something she’s not supposed to know?”

His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension, a sense of readiness. It was why we’d selected him to serve as our sergeant at arms.

I shrugged. “Then you know my orders. Protect the club at whatever cost necessary.”