Guilty Pleasure of a Ruthless Biker

Chapter One

Grace had an early shift at the bubble tea store, but she wanted to volunteer at least an hour before work.

Spending time at the women’s shelter and giving back was important to her.

Essential. After losing her older sister years ago, she’d been on a mission to help other young women avoid the same fate.

She was washing her hands in the small powder room by the back entry door, when she heard crying. Grace quickly dried her hands and rushed to the front of the shelter. She stopped dead in her tracks.

There was a woman on her knees in the front hallway, holding a young girl around seven years old around the waist. A huge tattooed man stood over them.

She knew right away he was a biker by the leather cut.

Those animals were easy to spot regardless, especially for her.

Her heart began to race as she scanned the area for staff members.

She was no match for a man his size, but she’d put herself between him and the woman and child if she had to.

She saw Gena coming up the hall but she was much farther away than her, so she moved in close.

“Hey! Get away from her.”

The biker cocked an eyebrow but didn’t move.

“Step back. You realize I have a panic button. If I push it, the cops will be here in two minutes.”

“I just brought them in,” he said.

Yeah, of course he did. Beat up your girlfriend and kid, then dump them at a shelter? Real manly of him. Or maybe they’d escaped him and he followed them here trying to force them back. She’d seen it too many times to count. Why else would she be scared and crying?

She hated men. And bikers were the worst.

“You’re not welcome here,” she said.

As Gena neared them, her nerves eased slightly because the shelter manager would know how to deal with this.

“Oh, Reaper, thank you so much for dropping them off for me,” Gina said.

Grace was stunned, frozen in place as she attempted to process the scene. What the heck was happening?

“No problem,” he said, in that same too-deep voice. “I’ll be by tonight to check out the alarm system.”

“You’re a godsend.”

When she looked at the woman still sobbing into her hands, she noticed the little girl was tugging on the biker’s black jeans. It made her heart rate pick up. She didn’t trust bikers and never would. He looked down at her and smiled. It actually looked warm and sincere, which wasn’t possible.

“I have some stuffies in my saddlebag out front,” he told the girl. Then he turned to Gena. “Is it okay if she comes out to pick one?”

“Of course, I’ll start registering her mom, then Grace can finish the intake.”

“What?” Grace blurted out. “You’re letting her go outside alone with him?” She bit her tongue immediately after when they turned and stared at her like she’d just grown a second head. How could she be the only one who saw a major red flag here? Many red flags.

“It’s okay, Grace,” said Gena. “This is practically Reaper’s second home. He does a lot for us. You don’t have to worry about him.” Then she walked away with the mother to the office.

The mother was still hysterical, repeatedly muttering, “He’ll find me.”

Her heart went out to the woman. That’s why it was so important to keep the shelter a safe place, a refuge. When she turned back around, he was there.

Reaper had a sly smile on his face. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

The heat of humiliation raced up her collar and she knew her face must be beet-red. “I’m sorry. I was just looking out for them.”

“It was cute.”

Her mouth fell agape. He may not be the enemy this moment, but she still refused to trust a biker.

They were criminals and murderers. If it weren’t for bikers, she’d still have her sister.

And her parents’ marriage wouldn’t have fallen apart.

And they’d still be alive. She learned how grief could kill a person.

The little girl reached for his hand and he actually took it as they walked up the hall together. She was made of questions. How had she never met him if Gena seemed so familiar with him? Grace usually volunteered three days a week at the shelter.

She decided she’d made herself look enough of a fool today, so she got to work.

There were several boxes of donated food in the hallway, so she started loading them into the pantry, one can at a time.

She took her time, frequently glancing at the front entryway to see if the little girl made it back in safely.

When she heard the door opening, she got more focused on her task, refusing to look away from the pantry shelves. It wasn’t sound that alerted her to his presence, more a feeling. She knew he was behind her, but refused to appear affected.

“So, how did you meet? One of your club buddies beat her up?”

She still hadn’t turned around.

“No, I never met her before today. Gena asked for a favor because Heidi was too scared to come here alone. Thought her husband would find out.”

So, he rescued her and brought her here to safety.

He was the hero in this story. And she was giving him a hard time.

Grace wanted to kick herself. This wasn’t who she was.

But years of listening to her parents talk down motorcycle clubs because of her sister’s death had obviously rooted into her subconscious.

She took a breath after putting another can on the shelf, then turned around to face him.

“Did she choose a toy?”

“Yeah, a sheep, I think. You can check for yourself.”

Being this close made her realize just how tall and built the guy was. He had a lot of ink on his arms, but she tried not to stare and looked at the floor instead.

“I’ll talk with both of them when I settle them in their room. The mom looks really scared.” Then she remembered what he said earlier. “Is that why you’re checking the alarm system?”

He shook his head. “Nothing to do with her. I’m okay with electronics so I do repairs at the shelters when they need it. I’m usually at the Bridgewood location, but seems this place needs some love, too.”

That’s why she’d never seen him before. Grace hadn’t been to the other shelter locations. She took the city transit everywhere and this one was about twenty-minutes’ walking distance from her apartment.

“Look, I’m really sorry about earlier. I just—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he interrupted. “You did good. You have fire, and you wanted to protect them. I respect that.”

Then he turned to leave, walking down the hall to the entrance. Before leaving out the door, he said, “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

And for some reason, she hoped she did.

****

Reaper drove through the club gates, his engine rumbling as he parked in his usual spot. Tarmac and Brick were working on a bike, parts set out on a blue tarp. Tarmac was flat on his back, using a wrench to tighten a bolt.

“Where’ve you been, big boy?” Brick asked.

“Just doing my rounds.”

He was the club enforcer, and he always ensured their territory was secure, collected debts, and handled a ton of issues every day.

His position had a lot of fucking responsibility, and he didn’t take it lightly.

The last thing he needed was to be questioned.

No one was more loyal to the club than he was.

“Lord was looking for you.”

Reaper only grunted. His prez was hardcore and he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. He headed over to his office, standing in the doorway until Lord called him in. Once inside, Reaper immediately went to the bar and poured himself a drink. It had been a weird fucking day.

“You wanted to see me?”

“You hear any rumblings about a hit from someone high up?”

“A hit?” He carried his glass toward Lord’s desk, sitting on the edge.

“Something was posted this morning on the dark web. Don’t have much details, but it’s in our neck of the woods. Look into it. Make sure none of our brothers is the target.”

“I’ll do that.”

He was on board with Lord. No one did business on their turf without consequences. He’d make it his mission to find out who was playing God and make them live to regret it.

“Look, Reaper, I know about your little guilty pleasure. Just make sure it doesn’t interfere with your club duties.”

He paused, unsure if he’d even heard his prez right.

“Have I fucked up?” He got to his feet, his drink sloshing slightly. “You think I’m not one hundred percent on my game?”

Yeah, he was fucking insulted. His prez was insinuating he couldn’t do his charitable work and handle shit around the club at the same time.

“I ain’t saying shit. Just do you job, and we’ll all be happy.”

He started to leave the office. “I’ll find out about this problem. I just need a little time.”

“As long as you’re on it,” Lord said. The prez’s phone rang, and he leaned back in his chair and started talking, not a care in the world.

Reaper headed down the long hallway toward his room at the very end.

He liked his space on the main floor in case shit went down.

He wanted to be able to get to his bike fast, no levels of staircases slowing him down.

Over the years, he’d personally put everything on the line when the Skull Nation tried to erase them.

He had bullet wounds and a shitload of emotional baggage, and he was still here.

He didn’t appreciate his prez making assumptions about him. What he did in his free time was his own fucking business.

Reaper got to his room and immediately stripped out of his street clothes and hit the shower.

Riding the back roads was dusty and he wanted it all off him.

His thoughts drifted to that little firecracker at the shelter.

She had spunk, even took him by surprise.

Being half his size, it took a lot of moxy to try and take him on.

Yeah, he was a bit insulted she took him for a wife-beater, but he could understand why she thought that. He hadn’t even asked for her name. Then he remembered hearing Gena talking to her.

Grace.

Reaper played the name around in his head.

Grace

Grace

Yeah, that was a good fucking name.

Maybe he’d stop by again to make sure his repairs to the security system worked. Maybe she’d be there.

It was stupid to have these feelings for a woman he’d just met. She may be curvy as fuck with the darkest brown eyes he’d ever seen, but she was a sweet girl. Too sweet for the likes of him.

That still didn’t stop him from planning to visit the shelter again tomorrow.

He decided it was on his way to town anyway.

Reaper needed to ask around, do some investigating about this supposed hit that went out.

It was his job to eliminate threats, to make their enemies suffer.

He couldn’t count the number of bones he’d broken as warnings not to fuck with the Straight to Hell MC.

And he had no regrets, no pity, no remorse.

What Lord wanted, he made happen. That’s how it worked, and he had no problem with that.

Reaper dried off in his private bathroom. He wiped his hand across the foggy mirror and examined the scars on his face. Was she afraid of him? Was he intimidating?

He’d never really put much thought into his appearance, never gave a fuck what the club whores thought of him, or anyone for that matter.

He cared about what Grace thought. In fact, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Wishing he could get inside her head. Thinking about tomorrow when today wasn’t even over.

He needed a distraction to burn off this energy coursing through his veins.

He grabbed a towel, then slipped on a pair of gym shorts.

They had a state-of-the-art gym at the club, and right now he wanted to rip himself to shreds with the weights and maybe hit the treadmill.

By the time he was done, the only thing he’d be thinking about was sleep.