Chapter 7 Reaper
As bullets ricochet off the makeshift barricade I’m tucked behind, hot lead shatters the wooden pallets. Splinters of wood rain down, tangling in my hair. My heart hammers as chaos erupts around me. The tower of wooden pallets behind the bar and grill is my only cover from the hailstorm of lead being unleashed by the Demon Riders. A splinter of wood nicks my cheek as another round pierces our defenses. They’ve got us outgunned, but I’ll be damned if I let them take us down without a fight.
I peer through a gap between the boards, squinting to catch sight of my attackers. There’s no time to wonder why they’ve come after us now. The silence of the past weeks was a deceitful lull. Scar always says, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies under a goddamn microscope.” His words echo in my mind as I spot an opening and squeeze the trigger.
Pop!
Pop!
Two bodies slump to the ground. A fleeting sense of grim satisfaction courses through me. But it’s short-lived. We need backup, and we need it five minutes ago.
The rumble of salvation approaches. Scar, Nitro, Matrix, and Talon’s engines growl like caged beasts itching for a brawl. It’s music to my ears. They ride into the fray with hellbent fury. Their arrival shifts the tide. Like the four horsemen, they bring retribution. Their bikes carve paths of destruction through our assailants.
“Reaper!” Scar’s voice cuts through the gunfire, a beacon of command and control. He’s already off his bike, laying down suppressive fire. Nitro and Talon flank him, moving with lethal precision. Matrix stays on his bike, circling like a vulture, picking off anyone stupid enough to expose themselves.
I join the dance of death, stepping from my shelter to stand with my brothers. Together, we’re an unstoppable force. The enemy’s resolve crumbles under our combined might, their numbers dwindling as they scramble to retreat.
When the last Demon Rider tears out of the parking lot, I spot Tucker. He’s walking toward me from the front of the bar. “You good?”
“Yeah! Check the prospects. Did anyone get shot?” I yell, scanning the area for our own.
Three prospects huddle near the back entrance, wide-eyed but alive. One clutches his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. He’s young, too damn young to understand the price of the patch yet, but he’s smart. If he can fight like that every time, he’s going to make a good brother. He just needs a few more years of experience first.
“Bullet graze,” he grits out when I reach him.
I nod, assessing the wound with a critical eye.
“Tucker, get Doc on the line. Now!” I bark, knowing Doc will patch him up good as new. Loyalty means taking care of your own. Tucker grabs his phone with steady hands. He’s been in enough fights now that he’s not afraid anymore. The kid’s got balls of steel. I’d like to see him patched in before the summer’s up.
“Got it, Reaper,” he says, dialing Doc’s number. That’s what this life breeds—courage forged in the fires of adversity. We’re more than a club. He gets it. Once he’s patched in, he’ll become an integral part of the family. That’s the shit I like to see around here.
“You good?” Scar asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“Always,” I reply, my gaze lingering on the fleeing backs of our enemies. “We’re gonna need answers, though.”
Scar nods, his expression grim as stone. “We’ll get ‘em.”
“I need to check on Lexi and Ace.”
“Go. I’ll make sure everyone’s squared up out here.”
“Thanks, pres.”
I jog back into the clubhouse. My boots thud against the hardwood floor as I head toward their room.
“Lexi! Ace!” I call out.
Silence. Dread coils in my gut.
When I reach the room, I know something’s wrong. The door’s wide open, but no one’s inside. They’re gone. Maybe they hid?
I barrel through all of the rooms in the clubhouse, throwing open doors with a force that rattles the walls. Each empty space fuels my growing fury. She was supposed to be safe here. She was supposed to be under my protection. Lexi’s nowhere, and neither is Ace. A sense of fear slices through me sharper than any blade. Were they taken?
I spill out the back door, scanning the ground. There, cutting through the dirt, are two sets of tracks—one smaller, lighter, belonging to a child. My vision narrows as I follow them, praying they’ll lead me to her. Since there isn’t a third set present, I don’t think they were abducted. They left on their own.
The woods swallow me whole, branches clawing at my leather cut as I push deeper. But slowly the tracks vanish, swept away by the wind and the dense foliage.
“Dammit, Lexi!” I roar into the silence, my voice a thunderous crack against the sky.
She’s gone, slipped through my fingers like smoke. How could she do this to me? After everything I did for her.
When I return to the clubhouse, the weight of anger and confusion is a heavy cloak on my shoulders.
Scar’s waiting, his eyes sharp enough to cut steel. “Did you find them?”
“No.”
“Fuck! Church. Now.”
We pile into the room. Normally, it’s where tough decisions are made and where we lay down our laws and punishments. Today, it feels like a damn courtroom, and I’m the one on trial.
Scar slams the gavel.
“Lexi’s gone,” I spit out before anyone else can speak. “She took off, probably during the firefight.” My hand slams down on the worn wood table as my frustration boils over.
“Any idea why she’d bolt?” Talon asks, eyes sharp beneath his furrowed brow.
“None. She just vanished without a trace. Again,” I growl.
“Maybe she got scared,” Matrix chimes in, always the damn voice of reason.
“Scared … Yeah, maybe.” I lean back in my chair, and my muscles tense while my mind races.
“All right, let’s focus,” Scar commands. “First, we talk about the chaos that just rained down on us. Then we’ll get to Lexi and Ace.”
“He was with her. I saw their tracks,” I say.
“At least they’re together,” Matrix says, giving me a sympathetic look. I want to slap it right off his face. I don’t need his pity.
“Why’d the Demon Riders hit us?” Talon asks. “Why today?”
“Could’ve been a power play,” Nitro suggests, his brow furrowing as he leans back in his chair. “Asserting dominance, maybe?”
“Or a diversion,” Matrix says, his fingers drumming on the tabletop. The guy’s got a tactical mind like no other, always thinking three moves ahead.
“Demons have been silent lately,” Scar says.
“Too silent. It’s not their style.” Nitro leans back in his chair, nearly tipping it over.
“Lexi,” Scar says slowly, his eyes locking onto mine. “I got a hunch this is all about her.”
As the room pulses with unspoken agreement, my gut twists. Lexi’s absence is a huge red flag. Was she in on this?
“Reaper, what the hell did you do to make Lexi take off?” Matrix’s question slices through the darkness in my head.
“Nothing,” I snap defensively. “I didn’t do a damn thing to her.”
“Maybe you didn’t give her what she needed,” Nitro chimes in with a smirk, but his joke lands like a lead balloon.
“Cut the crap, Nitro,” Matrix shoots back. “We just survived a firefight, man. This isn’t the time for your bullshit humor.”
He’s right. Some of our guys are bruised and bloodied. Our sanctuary’s been breached by bullets, and now I get the sense they’re starting to doubt my ability to handle my shit. I glance around at my brothers. Each set of eyes reflects the same storm brewing inside me.
“Fuck!” I press the heel of my hand into my forehead. “Let’s figure this out. If she was in on it, why leave out the back? Why go into the forest? One of the Demon Riders could have easily given her a ride.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she wasn’t involved at all.” Matrix opens his laptop and starts typing. “Either way, we could have used someone with inside info on Blackstone’s operation at the ranch.”
“We need to find her,” Scar says. “Either to eliminate her as a suspect or use her for intel.”
“Do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me if she’s gone.” It’s a lie, but I’m sure as shit not going to tell them I already miss her.
“Check her credit card activity,” Scar commands. “She doesn’t have wheels or a place to stay. She’ll need to pay for something to get by.”
Matrix nods, continuing to punch keys on his computer.
I sit back in my seat, silently raging while trying to appear indifferent.
A low chuckle rumbles from Talon’s corner, mischief glinting in his eyes. “You’re lying through your teeth, brother. You’re torn up about this.”
“Fuck off.”
I shoot him a glare that could strip paint from the walls. Let them think whatever they want. They don’t know how I feel, and it’s none of their fucking business either.
Matrix’s fingers fly across the keys, a symphony of clicks that fills the heavy silence. The screen throws a pale blue glow on his focused face as he sifts through the digital debris for any sign of Lexi. I fold my arms across my chest, trying to look like I’ve got better things to do than wait for news about a runaway.
“Got something,” Matrix announces, turning the screen to face us.
Every set of eyes in the room locks onto his laptop. A credit card charge appears on the display. It’s for a motel down the road, the kind of dive that makes you check for bedbugs and hidden cameras.
“Shitty place for a hideout,” Scar mutters, leaning to get a better look at the screen. “Let’s roll out. We’ll bring Lexi and Ace back to the clubhouse and find out what she’s got to say.”
“Sure, now we’re a rescue party,” I grumble, but the protest falls flat even to my own ears.
“If she’s not in on it, then she could be in trouble,” Matrix says. “You got to consider the kid, too.”
The idea that Lexi might need saving twists something low in my gut. If there’s even a chance that she and the kid might be in trouble, then I’ve got to act. What a fucking mess.
“You with us?” Scar’s voice is all business, but an undercurrent of concern is there too.
“Let’s ride,” I concede, feeling the weight of my brothers’ gazes on me. There’s no argument left in me, just the thrum of adrenaline and the need to find her before she takes off again.
“Time to saddle up,” Talon says, clapping a hand on my back as we head for the door.
The air outside the clubhouse is chilly, and the scent of cordite still hangs in the air. We throw our legs over our bikes in a synchronized dance of leather and chrome, engines roaring to life one by one. We line up like steel stallions, ready to race toward a rundown motel that smells like trouble.