Page 20 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

POSEY

In my mind, Monty takes me away from Lucian and releases me immediately so I can live my life in peace. What he doesn’t do is tie Lucian’s wife, Ranae, up next to a wine barrel and then tell Lucian to let me go or he’ll kill her. Then he brings out a damn gun to prove his point.

Apparently, my mind is a much softer place because I did not imagine this is how it would go when Monty became part of the equation.

I also did not ever read Monty correctly because never in my life would I have imagined he carried a gun on his person, let alone be part of some underground lifestyle.

What the hell is going on ?

Thankfully, Monty answers my silent question almost immediately. “We have enough evidence that would send you to prison forever, and trust me, that’s the last place you want to be.”

“Why?” Lucian snorts, acting as if he knows more than everyone else in the room. What an absolute asshole.

Monty laughs again as if this is all just hilarious. I really wish he would just come out with everything already, or maybe that Lucian would let my freaking hair go so I can try to run away or something.

None of that happens.

Lucian’s fingers are still gripping my hair tightly, so forcefully that I would not be surprised if my scalp were bleeding. There is no using my running shoes right now, and I’m wondering if I put them on for no goddamn reason.

“ Why ?” Monty asks, definitely not expecting Lucian to answer before he continues. “Because when you’re in prison, everyone knows that you’re the federal pig that squealed.”

“And out of prison?” Lucian asks, his voice a bit tremblier than it was a few moments ago. He’s losing some of his bravado, and if he weren’t hurting me right now, I would gloat about that.

Monty leans forward, his gaze searching my own for just a moment before he chuckles and flicks his attention back up to Lucian and speaks. When he does, not just the words he says but the tone he uses is enough to scare the piss out of me, and I’m not even the one he’s talking to.

“Out of prison, you have to worry about me . Pick your fucking poison.”

“My wife?” Lucian asks.

He tilts his head to the side, his gaze searching Lucian’s silently for a beat before he speaks, and it’s the million-dollar question when he does.

“Which one?”

“Ranae,” Lucian growls. “I don’t give a fuck about this bitch ,” he states.

Lucian moves the hand that’s still tangled in my hair from side to side to make his point. Okay then, he doesn’t give a fuck about me. So, if that’s the case, why won’t he just let me go? And why does he have to keep pulling my hair?

And also, how rude. He doesn’t give a fuck about me, but he sure as shit married me, bought me expensive things, had a lot of sex with me, and then came back to beat me up. What the hell?

“Interesting,” Monty murmurs, but his words are drowned out by the whimpering and sobbing of Ranae, who is still tied up to a wine barrel. Monty lifts his hand, with the gun firmly secured, and points it at Ranae.

“This is the one you care about?” Monty asks.

Lucian doesn’t speak, but I can feel him trembling behind me. “And you thought you were going to get away with whatever the fuck you were trying to get away with, and I would be none the wiser?” he asks.

“I didn’t do anything,” Lucian barks.

“What do you want?” Monty asks. “You came here, deceived my employee, tried to wiggle your way into my inner circle, which, let me tell you, did not work. We were playing you as much as you were playing us. We clocked you as a Fed the minute you stepped into the tasting room. So, pray tell, what do you want?”

Lucian growls. He’s becoming frustrated with this, and at least I can agree with him on one thing: this is frustrating . I wish he would just let me go. In fact, I wish we had never met.

“Pay me to walk away. I won’t submit any of my findings. I’ll just disappear. Pay me.”

“Yeah?” Monty asks. “How much do you foresee me giving you?”

“Ten million. It’s a drop in the bucket for your operation. I know all your contacts. I know everything about the inner workings here. You claim that I don’t, but we both know you’re bluffing.”

Wrong. Thing. To. Say.

Before I realize what’s happening, I hear a loud bang. It bounces off the walls around us, and then finally, my hair is released, and that’s because the man standing behind me is on the ground, moaning and holding on to his thigh.

There is blood seeping out of his leg as I stand above him, completely frozen as he writhes on the ground. He’s been shot.

“You don’t know shit, boy,” Monty growls.

Three of the five men rush forward, ignoring me completely, and grab Lucian, then drag him away.

I don’t know where they’re taking him. I’m not sure I want to know, either.

Monty lifts his hand and motions for the men to do something else.

He doesn’t say a word, and yet they understand what he wants.

A few moments later, Ranae is being dragged out of the room, following behind Lucian’s blood trail.

And I’m left alone with Monty and his gun.

I’m not sure what this means, but I am not feeling any sense of relief because as I stare at this man whom I thought of as a kind boss, I am seeing that he is not just some cute older man.

He is ruthless.

And his dark gaze is now focused on me.

Shit .

IVY

Work. Home. Work. Home.

Day in and day out, this is how my schedule goes.

I wait for Shocker to call me with an update, but I know if he’s even made it to California, he hasn’t done shit yet.

It’s at least a five-day trip if you’re riding hard, which I don’t think Shocker can do.

Otherwise, he’d already be there. Realistically, it’s going to be between seven and ten days.

They should have flown.

Every minute that passes, I wonder if Posey is even still alive. But today is a reality that I wasn’t quite prepared for. I wanted this shit done and handled by the time Bullet came home from his honeymoon. That is not going to happen.

He arrives today.

He’s already texted me that he wants a meeting at my office first thing in the morning. I’ve sent the note to Cidney, and she’s added it to my calendar. So, I sit at home alone, staring at the television that is on, but I have no clue what’s playing. I take a sip from my bottle of tequila.

I’m going to get fucking tanked and hope to hell that everything turns out the way it’s supposed to. I’ve let down my president in an effort to keep my club out of hot water. I’ve let down Posey, the only woman I could see claiming. And I’ve let myself down.

I’m worthless, useless, and fucking pointless.

I am ashamed of myself, and I know that I don’t deserve the tattoo on my back or the cut that is hanging in my closet at the moment. I don’t deserve to call myself a Vicious Reaper. I continue to drink. And drink some more, knowing without a fucking doubt that I’m going to have a hangover tomorrow.

It’s all I can do right now to come home and go to work. Piggy is right. I need to stay away from the clubhouse and the clubwhores. Posey would hate that shit. She would feel betrayed.

As soon as I take another drink from the bottle, contemplating going to bed, there is a knock on the door. Slowly, I stand and sway as I move. Once I reach the door, I lean over slightly and peer through the peephole.

“What the fuck,” I whisper to myself.

I should ignore the person on the other side of this door.

I should turn my ass around and head straight to bed.

I didn’t know that she even knew where I lived.

I’m not sure how she found my address, but my body moves against my brain’s request, and I wrap my fingers around the doorknob before I twist it and tug it open.

“Hazzard,” I announce.

“Ivy,” she says softly.

We stare at one another for a long moment in silence. I should tell her to leave. At the same time, I should ask her how she got my personal address. I’ve never had a whore here before.

Hell, I’ve never had a woman at my place before, so the fact that she even knows where I live is questionable. I’m sober enough to know that I should ask those questions but drunk enough that I don’t care.

“I haven’t seen you at the club, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Hazzard makes her way inside, closing the door behind her as she leans her back against the door. Staying far enough away that she’s not touching me but close enough that I can smell her perfume.

“Now you know you shouldn’t be here,” I say.

She hums, her gaze searching mine as we stare at one another. Then she pushes off the wall and closes the distance between us. I sway backward, having to catch myself before I fall flat on my ass.

Hazzard smiles and lifts her hand between us, and I feel her warm palm on the center of my chest radiating through my shirt.

She tips her head back, and her eyes find mine.

I fight it hard to focus on her. She smiles softly as if she knows exactly what the fuck I’m working through.

Then she rises to her toes, and her lips brush across my jawline.

“C’mon, Ivy.”