Chapter Three
Grace had a busy week at work.
The bubble tea shop always did well when the weather was hot. Her boss had her doing extra shifts, so she’d had zero time for herself.
On occasion, she’d think about the shelter. Gena said Heidi and her daughter Jane were settling in nicely. If she wasn’t too tired after getting home, she’d volunteer for a couple of hours. They always got donated food deliveries on Fridays, so extra hands were always welcome.
Grace looked out the window on her bus ride home. Her feet were sore. She thought about how pathetic her life was and she wished there was more. At least she had Bob. At this point, he was the only thing she had to look forward to when going home.
Volunteering definitely helped with the loneliness and gave her some purpose. Sometimes the soup kitchen, but usually the shelter.
Then she remembered the biker. Reaper. That wasn’t even a name.
Even though Gena ranted and raved about him, Grace wasn’t sold. The manager of a shelter should be more vigilant. Bikers were criminals. They shouldn’t be trusted with the most vulnerable. A biker killed her sister. She was gone forever, no second chance. No do-over.
That painful truth tore her family to shreds.
Before they died, her parents preached about the dangers of bikers.
And it was part of who she was at this point.
He may have put on a good show for Gena, but Grace would be much more cautious.
With any luck, he’d focus on the Bridgewood shelter again and stay away from her neck of the woods.
Grace got off one stop early and went to the corner store to buy Bob some cat treats. She’d run out a few days ago, and he wasn’t impressed. She’d rather walk the last three blocks home than deal with his cute little disappointed face again.
After a quick shower and a bite to eat, she decided to do some volunteering rather than sit home alone on a Friday night feeling sorry for herself.
She took the bus, even though the shelter wasn’t too far because she was tired of being on her feet. Once she got to the shelter, she’d have enough on her plate. Before her stop, she noticed the same black SUV that had been outside her apartment yesterday, but then again, they all looked alike.
As she stepped off the bus, she saw a big motorcycle, the chrome shining in the late afternoon sun.
Her heart sank a bit. A biker shouldn’t be at a shelter.
She pulled her purse higher and punched in the security code before entering.
And apparently Gena thought it was a great idea to allow a motorcycle club to have the code as well.
Sure enough, the food delivery had arrived, boxes lining the main hallway. Grace had to shimmy her way to the back staff room to sign in.
“Missed you this week,” Helen said.
“Crazy at work. It’ll be like that all summer.”
Helen was another volunteer, probably her mother’s age. She had a severe burn on the side of her face from when she was in her twenties. A jealous boyfriend had thrown acid on her. Everyone had their own reasons for volunteering. They were a little family.
“Anything exciting around here?” she asked.
“We’ve had to beef up security after one of the new admits came in. We weren’t even allowed to prop the door open when bringing in the boxes.”
Grace knew it had to be Heidi.
“Wish I could have come earlier to help.”
“You do enough, little miss. Besides, we’ve barely unpacked a thing.” She winked at Grace and returned to her work.
After signing in, she headed back to the main hall, nearly bumping into that brick house.
“Sorry,” she said, walking around Reaper.
Why was he even there? Why was no one keeping tabs on him?
When she glanced back over her shoulder to see what he was doing, he was on his hands and knees in the same area. She took a step back to get a better look. He was fixing the wonky leg of the bookshelf. Everyone hated how unsteady it was, but no one ever did anything about it.
She started opening the boxes, putting cans in the cupboard, and produce in the fridges. When she struggled to carry a box of canned goods to the kitchen a while later, Reaper took the box from her. He did so with ease, but then again, he was a big guy.
“Thank you,” she said. Grace wanted to add she was perfectly capable of doing it herself, but bit her tongue after last week’s catastrophe.
“You shouldn’t be carrying these heavy things. When I’m here, I’m glad to do it.”
She didn’t say anything because she’d end up arguing.
Gena walked through the kitchen.
“Thanks for the coffee, Reaper. Delicious, as usual,” Gena said, holding up her cup.
She was very anal about her coffee so she must be faking her thank you.
“I didn’t know you’d be here or I would have brought you one.”
He set the box on the counter.
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Tea?”
She shrugged.
“Tell me what you like. I have everyone’s order memorized.”
“It’s okay.” She was being a bitch again, but it was so easy when dealing with bikers. It felt like she was betraying the memory of her family by being nice to Reaper. It was stupid but it was hard to shake the feeling.
By the time she turned around, he was gone. She continued with her duties, and Helen helped a while later, too. They caught up a bit, complaining about their jobs and talking about their cats.
“Can I ask you something,” Grace asked. “Does Reaper know your coffee order?”
Helen scoffed. “Are you kidding? When he does a coffee run, he’ll have two trays, all of them custom, and always right. It’s uncanny.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He just asked for my order for next time,” Grace said.
“You’re a tea drinker, right?”
“Yeah, I love my hot tea. If I wasn’t here, I’d be home with a book, my cat, and a tea.” She giggled.
“It’s Friday night, Grace. You’re what, twenty-something? You should be out having fun.”
“Twenty-seven. And I’m not a social butterfly. I’m not missing out. You don’t have to worry about me.”
It was the truth. Grace didn’t like the bar scene or parties. She enjoyed quiet, simple pleasures. It would just be nice to have someone to share those moments with.
****
Reaper had been spending way more time at the shelter than usual. Normally, he’d come by once a week or when he was called for help. But since he’d be asked to hang around for extra security this week, he decided to make himself useful. Everyone seemed happy for the extra help—except Grace.
Fuck, she was sugar and venom all rolled into one. But it just made her stick in his thoughts more. When she hadn’t shown up all week, he’d felt a bit disappointed. He wasn’t sure why when she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
He’d already accomplished a lot. He’d built a picnic table out back, painted a bedroom pink, and mended the fences around the property. Before the food order had arrived, he’d given the young kids turns sitting on his bike that was parked outside. They loved it.
Reaper wondered if he’d ever have kids of his own, but quickly shot the thought down. He didn’t trust himself. With his history, he’d fuck things up, repeat a cycle or whatever they called it. It was better for him to live for his club and nothing more.
He’d crossed paths with Grace a few times. Once she was carrying laundry to the basement. He offered to help but she declined, as always. Then she was sitting on the carpet in the family room, making beaded bracelets with Jane and a few other kids. She hadn’t seen him watching that time.
Reaper just didn’t know what her deal was.
She was sweet as gold with everyone—the manager, the director, the staff, the volunteers, the admits, the kids, the fucking delivery people.
When she saw him, he could practically hear her groan of disgust. What was wrong with him?
Everyone loved him, except her. And it drove him nuts.
She wasn’t even his type. Hell, no. Grace was too clean, too sweet, too convinced men like him ruined the world.
It was just annoying to be so hated for no good reason.
Reaper was used to hate, but he always deserved it. This was different.
“I think I saw someone walking along the windows on the east side,” Helen said.
He’d been replacing the batteries in the smoke detectors. At the club, most of them were masters of all trades. He didn’t know everything, but these little jobs were usually no issue.
When Reaper heard that news, he dropped what he was doing.
“Stay inside.”
At this point there was a little crowd of worried staff members. Reaper felt his 9mm in the back of his jeans and headed out the back emergency exit. Sure enough, there was a guy lurking around.
“You’re on private property. You have a good fucking reason for being here?”
“I was just looking for someone,” he said.
Reaper kept moving closer. As the club’s enforcer, he had done a lot of shit in his life. Things that would make the worst of them shudder. He wasn’t afraid to inflict pain. It was his job.
“I’m sure you were. Who?”
“Listen here, she’s my wife! You have no right keeping her from me.”
Reaper grabbed him around the neck, slamming him up against the brick building with force, bringing him high enough that only his toes touched the ground.
“I don’t care if she’s your wife, your mother, or your side bitch. You’re not welcome here. If I see your ass here again, I won’t call the cops, it’ll be just you and me. You don’t want that.”
He started crying but left the property, holding his neck. Reaper would have to reinforce the gates on the side of the shelter. As he returned to the back, he realized all the women had been watching from the big family room windows.
They swarmed him once he stepped back inside. “Thank you, Reaper,” Helen said. “That was Rosa’s husband. He hasn’t stopped calling all day.”
Husbands, boyfriends, and exes were a constant issue. It was the number one reason Gena called him most times. They were usually harmless and desperate for a second chance. Reaper wasn’t judge or jury, he just kept them away.
As a kid, he wished there was someone like him to keep the men away from his mother. But it had just been him. He hadn’t been strong or brave back then. And he couldn’t go back in time to undo the past now.
“I’ll work on the gate tomorrow. The latch is too easy to open from the outside. I don’t like it.”
He saw Grace was standing with them, just staring at him without saying a word. She probably hated him even more now for being a violent asshole.
Reaper needed to do his work for the club now. Time to kick ass and break bones. When someone didn’t pay a debt or Lord had a beef with someone, Reaper was the first face they saw. As he was shrugging on his jacket in front of the shelter, a little boy came and wrapped his arms around his thigh.
“Don’t go,” he said.
Reaper bent down to his level. “Listen, little man. It’ll be bedtime soon. You need sleep to get big and strong. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Can I ride your bike again?”
“We’ll see.” He patted him on the head playfully and stood back up.
Lawrence ran off to the kitchen.
The last person he expected to see before leaving was Grace. She approached him, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
“You let the kids ride your bike? Sounds dangerous.”
“I think by riding, he meant to say sitting on my parked bike while I stood beside him. And it was turned off. Promise.”
“I saw what you did out there.”
“I only did what had to be done,” he said.
“I’m not complaining. I’m sure he deserved it. What if the next husband or ex is a biker?”
This chick didn’t fuck around. She meant business.
“Listen, I don’t know what I did to piss you off so much, but I’m not the bad guy here.
” He took a couple of steps closer to her.
“Out there, yeah, maybe. In here, not so much. As to your question, if a biker came to hurt one of the women or kids here, even one of my own fucking brothers, they’d live to regret it. ”
She didn’t say a thing, but her bravado was gone.
And he knew he’d still be thinking about her tonight.