Chapter 3
3
REAPER
T imer's idea of a crew meeting involves enough pizza to feed a small army and beer that tastes like piss.But it gets everyone in one place, which is what matters when you're trying to coordinate two MCs through hostile territory.
I'm definitely not watching Sandy lean against the vending machine, my old Saints shirt riding up her thighs as she talks strategy with Doc.And I'm absolutely not remembering how that shirt looked even better on my bedroom floor five years ago.
"You're staring." Tank drops into the chair beside me, voice low enough that only I catch it."Thought you were gonna avoid her?"
"I'm strategizing." The lie tastes bitter."Making sure she's not causing trouble."
"Right." He takes a long pull of his beer."That why you let her take point on mapping tomorrow's route?Because you're avoiding trouble?"
Point to Tank. Sandy's always been brilliant with logistics, seeing patterns others miss.Watching her work the map earlier, confidently marking alternate routes and potential choke points, reminded me exactly why I fell for her in the first place.
"She knows her shit." I keep my tone neutral, professional."Would be stupid not to use that."
"Uh-huh." Tank's not buying it."Just remember what happened last time you trusted her with club business."
The memory hits hard. Sandy, tears streaming down her face as she threw my club ring that I'd given her at my feet.I can't watch you die for this life.I won't.
"Different scenario." I drain my beer, needing the burn."She's earned her place now. You saw how she handles that bike."
"Yeah, that's what worries me." Tank's eyes narrow as Sandy slips out the back door, phone in hand."Since when does a treasurer need those kinds of skills?"
He's got a point. Sandy's riding is too precise, too tactical for someone who should've learned everything from club runs.But before I can follow that thread, Timer's voice booms across the room.
"Listen up!" He stands, commanding attention like only old-timers can."Kings are getting bold, pushing into our routes.We need eyes on their movements before we hit Georgia."
My phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number.
470-400-0054
Meet me out back. Now. - R
Rebel. Sandy. Whatever name she's using now, she's still got me jumping at her call.
"Taking a smoke break." I stand, ignoring Tank's knowing look."Keep planning. I'll catch up."
The desert night hits like a wall of velvet, stars burning impossibly bright above the motel's dim lights.Sandy stands by her bike, the neon vacancy sign painting her skin in shades of red and blue.It takes everything I have not to cross the distance between us.
"We've got trouble." She doesn't waste time with pleasantries."Kings are moving tonight. Big shipment, coming through our route."
"How do you know?"
"Does it matter?" She steps closer, close enough that I catch that familiar jasmine scent."What matters is they're trying to force a confrontation.We need to change course."
"Or we could hit them first." The tactical part of my brain is already mapping ambush points."Send a message."
"That's your answer for everything, isn't it?" Frustration edges her voice."Fight first, ask questions never?"
"Says the woman who walked away rather than talk things through."
Low blow, but she doesn't flinch.Instead, she gets in my face while hers flashes fire and fury.Shhe's fucking gorgeous in the neon light.
"I walked away because you wouldn't listen!Because you were so caught up in proving yourself that you couldn't see--" She stops, breathing hard.
"Couldn't see what?" I crowd her space, backing her against her bike."What weren't you telling me, Sandy?"
"Don't." Her hands fist in my cut, but I can't tell if she's pushing me away or pulling me closer."We're not doing this. Not now."
"Then when?" My voice drops lower, rougher."Another five years? Another lifetime of wondering what the hell happened to us?"
"There is no us." But her eyes drop to my mouth, betraying the lie."There can't be."
"Bullshit." I brace one hand on her bike, caging her in."You're still wearing my shirt.Still watching me like you used to.Still--"
She kisses me. Or maybe I kiss her.Doesn't matter. What matters is the taste of her mouth opening under mine, her fingers sliding into my hair as five years of distance disappear in an instant.I press closer, swallowing her gasp as I lift her onto her bike's seat.
She feels exactly like I remember.Soft curves against hard muscle, sweet heat and deadly grace all wrapped in leather and attitude.My hands find her hips, thumbs brushing bare skin where my shirt rides up.
"Reaper." My name falls from her lips like a prayer as I trail kisses down her neck."We can't--"
Engines roar in the distance, growing louder.We spring apart just as Timer rounds the corner.
"Kings spotted on the highway." He eyes us suspiciously but doesn't comment on our proximity."Full crew, headed this way."
"How many?" I'm already shifting into Road Captain mode, pushing down the lingering heat from Sandy's kiss.
"At least twenty. Armed."
"Shit." Sandy's already moving, all business now."We need to move. Now."
She's right. Twenty armed Kings mean this isn't a random patrol.They're hunting, and we're exposed.
"Wake everyone." I hit my comm, broadcasting to our crew."Five minutes to wheels up. Timer, get Doc to sweep the lot.Sandy--"
"I'll coordinate with my crew." She's already headed inside, my shirt replaced by her leather cut.The transformation from the woman who just kissed me senseless to capable club officer is jarring.
Twenty minutes later, we're back on the road.Sandy rides point with me, her skills obvious as she helps guide our combined crews through back roads and desert tracks.The Kings' engines echo behind us, but her route keeps us just ahead of pursuit.
"You've done this before." I pull beside her at a stop sign, voice carrying through our helmet comms."This isn't standard treasurer training."
She doesn't answer immediately, focused on scanning the road ahead.When she does speak, her voice carries an edge I can't quite read.
"People change, Reaper. You're not the only one who grew up."
"Into what?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
Her visor turns toward me, reflecting starlight."Into someone who knows the cost of survival."
Before I can dig deeper, Timer's voice crackles through the comms."Kings breaking off. Looks like they're headed back to their compound."
Relief floods my system, followed quickly by suspicion.The Kings don't give up easy.Something about this doesn't add up.
"Keep formation." I signal the crew to maintain speed."We're not clear yet."
Sandy falls back slightly, phone pressed to her ear.Even through the helmet, I can see tension in her shoulders.Whatever she hears makes her whole body go rigid.
"Problem?" I ask when she pulls even with me again.
"Nothing I can't handle." But her voice lacks conviction."We should make Albuquerque by dawn.Fresh start tomorrow."
She's hiding something. The realization sits heavy in my gut, warring with the memory of her lips on mine.It was stupid before to let her walk away without pushing for answers.Not this time.
"Sandy." I keep my voice low."Whatever's going on, whatever you're mixed up in... I can help."
She laughs, but there's no humor in it."No, Reaper. You really can't."
"Try me."
"You want to help?" Her voice hardens."Then trust me when I say we need to change course.Take the northern route through Colorado."
"That adds two days to the trip."
"Better than not making it at all."
The conviction in her voice sends chills down my spine.She knows something--something big enough to risk exposing whatever game she's playing.
"Alright." The word tastes like surrender."Your route. But this conversation isn't over."
"It never is with you." Her tone softens slightly."That's what I loved most about you.What still scares me about you."
Before I can respond, she guns her engine, pulling ahead to lead us onto a different highway.I follow because that's the only thing I can do for now.Follow her lead while trying to ignore how easily she still owns pieces of my soul.
I will be getting answers before she walks away again though, willingly ornot.It's time to demand answers about why she really left, why she's reallyhere.
Time to find out if that kiss meant as much to her as it did tome.
First, though, we need to survive whatever storm she seescoming.Because Sandy Mitchell never runs withoutreason.
And something tells me those reasons are about to catch up to all ofus.