Reaper (Underground Vengeance MC Romance, Montana Chapter Book 5)

Chapter 1 Reaper

The first time I dug a grave, my dick got so hard I thought I’d lost my fucking mind. What kind of psycho gets off on killing someone? Well, apparently me. Killing a man, even one who deserves it, makes me want to run out and prove that I’m still human, that I’m still alive. So, whenever I kill a pervert – after I bury him – I go out and find a woman who’s down to fuck. It’s my process. I’d love to be able to lie and say I don’t like it, but that would be complete bullshit. I love killing people who deserve it. I get off on it. If that makes me a freak, then so be it.

I plunge the shovel into the ground and scoop another pile of earth up. Dropping the dirt to one side, I repeat the process, humming while I work. Deep in the forest, I don’t have to worry about witnesses. It’s almost midnight. The nearest campground is three miles away. If any hikers pass through this area tomorrow, they won’t notice the disturbed forest floor. I’m damn good at covering my dump sites. They could walk right over it and never see a thing out of place.

As I heave another load onto the pile, I fantasize about what kind of woman I want tonight. Blonde? Brunette? Short hair? Long? Thick body with a big booty? Or maybe a petite woman for variety? I tend to pick the curvy type. There’s more bounce, and curvy girls are soft in all the right places. Mm-mm. Yeah, definitely one with hips and a big ass.

Fortunately, plenty of women are happy to screw bikers like me for fun. I’ll be able to find a willing woman in almost any bar I walk into. It’s my superpower … or maybe it’s all the hours I spend in the gym at the clubhouse. I learned early on that the more I worked out, the more women would throw themselves at me. It’s a win-win. Being ripped makes it easy to drop bodies into graves, and it makes fucking for sport an effortless adventure.

After I make it clear that all I want is a quick fuck, biker babes are usually down for the same thing. We get naked and fuck, and that’s that. No strings. No bullshit. Clingy chicks make me go limp, so I avoid them. I don’t have time for their crap. I’ve got shit to do. Places to be. More people to kill. The women I bang for fun have no idea they’re fucking a killer. I only tell them what they need to know, my name, so they know what to scream when I make them come.

Jumping into the grave, I check its depth. I’m six-foot-three, so as long as I’m eye level with the ground, then it’s deep enough. It checks out, so I hoist myself up and over the edge. I hold the shovel in one hand while I kick Jackson Fletcher into his final resting spot. The satisfying crack of my motorcycle boot against his already shattered ribs puts a smile on my face. He can’t feel it, but I can.

I get to work, shoveling dirt over the corpse. With any luck, Fletcher’s in Hell now, where he belongs. I’m not sure what to think about Heaven or Hell, but I hope Hell exists. Some people deserve to end up there.

Fletcher should have been locked up years ago, but the cops couldn’t convince any of his victims to talk. Earlier today, I had him singing like a bird. It only took an hour with me and my special tools before he started whining and sniveling and begging for his life. He confessed to a multitude of sins while pleading with me to turn him over to the police. He swore he’d tell them everything he’d told me, but that was bullshit, and we both knew it. Deep down, he probably realized he wasn’t leaving the clubhouse’s basement alive, but men like him cling to every last thread of hope. It’s pathetic.

As soon as I finish filling in the hole, I stamp down the earth with my boots. I grab a huge rotting branch and lay it across the grave. I rip open a black garbage bag of rotting leaves I collected earlier and scatter them around the area. I move a couple of large rocks into place to help the area blend into its surroundings.

Satisfied with my work, I hoist the shovel over my shoulder and hike back to where I parked my bike. It’s a little over a mile away, but I run ten miles a day, so this is nothing. I stay in shape because I never know when I’ll be digging again. There’s always one more asshole on the club’s radar, and I’m ready for it.

My motorcycle club, Underground Vengeance, gets rid of the people the justice system can’t catch. The cops move too slow. They fail far too many people. That’s where we come in. Killing’s just one piece of the puzzle. There’s a lot more to it, but it’s complicated.

It’s been ten years since my first kill on behalf of the club. I can’t even count how many pedophiles and perverts I’ve buried since then. Dozens, maybe. But I remember every one of them. Their victim’s faces haunt my nightmares, but at least I’ve made sure those depraved people ended up where they belong. That’s what we do in Underground Vengeance, and it will never change. It’s who we are.

Sliding the shovel into a sling on the side of my bike, I kickstart the engine. There’s nothing I can do about the noise. Hikers will hear it if they’re within a few miles, but I’ll be long gone before anyone climbs out of their sleeping bags to investigate.

Roaring down the mountain, I run through a list of bars I could stop at. The obvious choice is to go to the bar my club owns, but I’ve been hunting there too much. I’m running out of fresh options, so I need to venture out. There’s a couple of good spots near the edge of town. If I offer to give a woman a ride back to the clubhouse on my bike, she will almost always accept it. Chicks who love dick also tend to love bikers and booze. It’s one hell of a combo.

The roar of my bike’s engine is a living thing against the stillness of the mountain road, echoing off the pines that line the twisting asphalt like sentinels. I lean into the curve, reveling in the way the wind tugs at my leather jacket. The scent of pine and freedom fills my lungs.

Then it happens—a black SUV barrels whips around the bend, riding the bumper of a small red sedan. The aggressive beast on wheels is like a shadow, looming large and menacing. I watch in stunned horror as it nudges the smaller car mercilessly, once, twice, a deadly dance that can only end one way.

The sedan veers sharply, tire squealing against the pavement right before it crashes through the guardrail. For a suspended moment, the world goes silent as the car disappears over the edge, and then the sickening crunch of metal fills the air.

Rage boils in my veins, hot and vicious. My first instinct is to scream for vengeance—to chase that bastard in the SUV, so I can serve him some street justice. But the echo of the crash below claws at me, pulling me toward the ravine. Someone could be alive down there, hurt or even dying. Every second I hesitate is a second they don’t have.

“Damn it,” I curse, throttling down and skidding to a halt at the roadside, gravel spitting beneath my tires.

My mind is a war zone—anger versus duty, the need for retribution warring with the code I live by. Loyalty, family, and protecting those who can’t protect themselves. That code means more than any personal vendetta.

I kick the stand down. The metallic thud helps to ground me in the present. Gritting my teeth, I rip my helmet off and toss it onto the seat. There’s no choice, not really. I can’t leave someone to die alone when I might be their last chance.

The growl of the escaping SUV fades into the distance, swallowed by the trees. I let it go. I’ll hunt the bastard later. Right now, I’ve got a life to save.

With long strides, I make my way down the steep incline. Loose rocks and dirt slide beneath my boots. My hands fist at my sides. My jaw’s set hard. Whoever’s down there in that twisted wreck isn’t alone anymore. I’m here to help them. If they’re still alive.

The crumpled steel carcass of the car groans as I approach. My boots crunch on shards of glass and twisted metal, every step echoing through the mountain’s eerie quiet. The stench of gasoline and scorched rubber burns my nostrils, but it’s the sound of a child’s cries that tightens my chest. I’m glad I didn’t go after the SUV. This kid needs me.

When I reach the sedan, I lean into the space where a door once hung.

“Hey, buddy,” I call out softly, peering into the mangled interior.

A small boy, no more than six or seven, is strapped in the backseat. Tears and dirt streak his face. He clutches a teddy bear like it’s the only thing he’s got left in this world. His sobs hitch in the cool air.

“You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you,” I murmur.

As he looks up, his huge hazel eyes meet mine. For a moment, the chaos of the crash fades into the background. It’s just me and him, caught in this fractured moment of time. His eyes are so familiar, but I swear I’ve never seen this kid before.

“M-mommy?” he whimpers.

I glance into the driver’s seat, fearing the worst. It’s empty.

Returning my attention to the child, I reach to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Ace,” he sniffles, his tiny hand gripping the teddy bear tighter.

“All right, Ace. I’m Reaper. I’m going to get you out of here.”

I lift him gently and carry him away from the wreckage. I lay him down on a patch of grass away from the debris, scanning the area for any sign of his mom. That’s when I see her, a woman’s body flung disturbingly far from the car, lying too still against the unforgiving ground. She’s covered in blood.

“Stay right there, Ace. I’ll be back.” My spine stiffens as I move toward her.

“Mommy!” he cries out, terror lacing his voice as I kneel beside the woman.

“Ma’am? My name’s Reaper. I’m here to help. Can you move?”

She doesn’t stir. Long, black hair covers half her face. Her skin is ashen, and her pale pink lips are slightly parted. She’s out cold—or worse.

My hands shake as I check for a pulse, pressing two fingers to her neck where the blood is warm and slick.

Nothing.

No rhythmic thump against my fingertips, just the stark, icy silence of death.

“Dammit,” I whisper.

For a split second, I’m frozen. I stare at the woman who shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be like this. If it weren’t for that asshole in the SUV, she’d still be alive. What the fuck is wrong with people? What’s wrong with this world? Who would run a woman and her child off the road like that?

Ace’s cries jolt me. I glance back at the boy. His tear-filled eyes lock with mine. In them, I see a reflection of everything that’s been ripped away from him. His little frame shudders as he sobs. The sight of him clutching that teddy bear, looking so innocent and terrified, guts me. He’s too young to understand the permanence of death, too young to navigate the cold foster system that’ll chew him up and spit him out like it did with me. I’ve been there. I was a scared kid, lost in the shuffle and tossed into a cycle of neglect and loneliness that nearly destroyed me. I won’t let him spiral into that same place.

A surge of something fierce and protective wells up inside me. I’ve got to save this kid’s mom. She may be the only family he’s got.

“Mommy’s going to be okay,” I tell him.

Turning away from him, I crouch beside the woman. My hands hover above her as I summon electromagnetic energy from the earth. My fingers tremble with a power I keep buried deep, a wild thing I’ve learned to tame over the years. I close my eyes, focusing on that simmering energy coiled within, ready to spring forth at my command.

“Come on, girl,” I coax, trying to pierce the veil between the living and the dead. “Ace needs you.”

The moment I feel even a hint of connection, I unleash the power within me. The force rips through me like a thunderbolt, seeking out the woman’s fragile thread of life. It’s a reckless thing to do, meddling with the natural order, but I’m beyond caring. Rules don’t apply when a kid’s future hangs in the balance.

The air crackles with unseen energy as I pour everything I’ve got into the woman lying broken before me. If there’s a chance I can save her, any chance at all, I’m willing to risk my life to save hers. This isn’t about me or my powers. I’m doing it for Ace and the unspoken vows I’ve made to protect those who can’t fend for themselves.

Electricity hums in my veins. A live wire of blue-green energy connects me to the woman who lies motionless on the ground. Her chest remains still, but I’m not giving up.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Ace’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the energetic current flowing through my ears.

I glance over my shoulder to look at his small, tear-streaked face. He clutches his teddy bear tighter, his young eyes wide and uncomprehending as his gaze jumps from his mom to me. Both hope and confusion shine in his eyes. He’s counting on me to save her life. I can’t let this kid down.

“Shh,” I murmur, not taking my eyes off his mom. “Just watch.”

A final surge of energy courses through me and then—there it is—a gasp, a stuttering breath as life fights its way back into her body. Her eyelids flutter open, revealing the most stunning hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. Eyes I know. Eyes I haven’t stared into in years.

“Lexi?” I whisper.

Using my remaining strength, I slowly release the energetic thread between us. As soon as the connection’s severed, I drop to my knees. I throw out my hands to keep from falling face-first into the dirt. My life force flickers as the weight of what I just did hits me. Bringing someone back from the dead has taken me to the precipice before, but I can’t let death claim me too.

Light fades as my vision falters. I struggle against the growing darkness.

Reaching for my cut, I pull my phone out. I hit the panic button that will alert the other members of my club that I’m in trouble. With any luck, Matrix will activate my tracker before sending Scar and the others to find me.

“Mommy?” Ace takes a tentative step forward.

She rolls her head to one side to look at me. Her hair falls off her face, revealing her delicate, elf-life features. Confusion furrows her brows as she struggles to make sense of her surroundings. She tries to sit, but in her weakened state, she’s unable to move.

“Reaper?” The word is a whisper torn from her throat, fragile as a butterfly wing. It hits me like a punch to the gut.

“Lexi,” I breathe out, my own disbelief mirrored in her gaze.

Those eyes. Those damn hazel eyes that haunt my dreams are here, staring back at me—dark brown irises framed by a light green halo. They’re the very same ones that used to look at me with love … until she vanished from my life without a trace.

The world tilts on its axis. My breath catches in my throat as I stare. Her trembling hand reaches toward mine. I instinctively take it, grounding her to this moment, to me. She’s real, she’s here, and she’s alive. This isn’t some cruel mirage my mind conjured up. It’s not a dream. It’s not even a nightmare.

“You’re safe,” I tell her, even though my mind is reeling, struggling to piece together how the past has suddenly collided with the present on this desolate mountain road.

“Mommy!” Ace’s relieved cry breaks through the haze of shock.

Lexi’s attention snaps toward him. Recognition floods her face as she releases my hand so she can pull her son into her arms. Ace clings to her. His small frame is dwarfed in her embrace. He buries his face in her neck, seeking comfort only she can provide.

“Are you okay, baby?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

My gaze bounces from Lexi to Ace. A surge of protectiveness wells up in my heart. I don’t know why someone tried to run her off the road, or why she left without saying goodbye, but seeing her again stirs something deep within me.

“Where have you been?” The question escapes before I can hold it back. It’s raw and loaded with seven years’ worth of pain.

She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. I watch her struggle for composure as her gaze falls away. Her chest expands and contracts with each shaky breath. She manages to sit, while all I can do is stay hunched over the ground. I don’t have enough energy left to move.

The distant roar of motorcycles fills the air. Instinctively, I know it’s my brothers. They’ll be here soon, and they’re not going to like what they find. When she left, I went a little crazy. It took months before I could function again. They’re going to be pissed she’s back in our lives.

And worse, Scar knows how dangerous it is for me to use my power to bring people back from the dead. It almost killed me once, and I was lucky to survive. Ever since then, Scar has warned me repeatedly not to manipulate energy unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Well, this was one of those times when it had to be done.

But why her?

Why now?

I have a million questions, but they’re going to have to wait until we get to the clubhouse. Lexi’s back, and she’s not leaving until she tells me why she ran away seven years ago.