Chapter 23
Reaper
My kutte came off first, followed by my T-shirt.
I shoved her dress up to her waist and settled between her legs, feeling the heat from her core.
Her hands moved to my belt, undoing it before popping the buttons on my jeans.
A growl ripped from my throat before I caught her wrists, forcing them above her head as I claimed her mouth.
Her body burned beneath mine, soft and defiant all at once, and her legs locked around me like she’d never let me go. For a second, I didn’t want her to. Hell, I wanted to tear her panties aside and bury myself so deep, she’d never remember another man’s name but mine.
Her heat pressed against me, only the thinnest scrap of fabric between us. Grinding against her, feeling how wet she already was, had me closer to the edge than I’d been in years.
I pressed my forehead to hers, eyes shut, fighting the pull with everything I had. “Stop,” I whispered, voice raw, even as my hips betrayed me with another hard roll into her.
Stop before I tear through the last barrier and fuck you on this bed like I’ve dreamed of since the first time you called me an asshole.
She clutched the back of my shirt like she was afraid I’d disappear. “Jay...”
“I need to see it,” I rasped, every word scraping my throat. “The evidence. All of it. With my own eyes.”
She stiffened then slowly nodded. Reluctantly, we untangled.
My top was on the floor, and my kutte wasn’t far behind. I dressed in silence, the air thick with everything we hadn’t said. My hands shook slightly as I buckled my belt, not from fear but from restraint.
She straightened her dress, face shuttered again, armor back in place. I hated how quickly she walled herself off, but hell, I wasn’t sure where we stood either.
“You good?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, too flat to believe. I didn’t press.
We slipped out the back door through a side hall no one would notice. It was late enough that the clubhouse had gone quiet, men passed out or gone. I wasn’t in the mood to explain her presence again. Bigger things were on my mind than their questions.
The cold midnight air bit my skin, clearing my head more than I’d wanted. Her car waited in the shadows by the fence.
“I’ll drive.” I thought she would have argued, but she tossed me the keys.
“So, where’s all this supposed evidence?” I asked once we were inside, engine idling.
“My motel,” she said. “Floorboard under the bed. Didn’t get a chance to tell you before you...” Her eyes flicked to me.
“Pinned you to the wall?” I offered drily.
Her lips curved. “One way to put it.”
I didn’t smile. There was too much to lose. I was falling fast, for her fire, her fury, the way she refused to take any shit. But the plan had to come first. Keep her safe, find answers, then maybe... maybe let her go. Back to her life. Back to safety.
We drove in silence, headlights glaring through the dark. The motel loomed at the edge of the district, paint peeling, neon buzzing like a dying firefly. Decent enough but built for secrets. Or for burying them.
I killed the lights, parking behind the building, out of view. Old habits died hard.
“You sure it’s still there?” I asked.
“Unless someone else found it, but it’s hidden deep.”
We moved fast, quiet. My hand hovered near the Glock at my waistband. Too quiet, too still, my survival instincts were screaming.
“Wait, me first.” I stepped in, blocking her, gun sweeping the room. Corners, bathroom, closet, all empty.
“All clear.”
She slipped past, kneeling at the bed and prying the floorboard loose. Hollow knocks echoed. “Got it.”
She pulled out the box Caleb had left her and grabbed at photos, papers, and the thumb drive. I crouched beside her, flipping through the contents.
Photos of Gage with the Fangs. Some showed cash changing hands. Meeting spots, GPS hits, same places our shipments had vanished.
My gut dropped. It wasn’t smoke—it was Caleb, from the grave, helping me and having my back like he always had.
She watched me, waiting. For denial maybe, or for me to tell her it was fake.
I sank onto the bed, elbows on my knees, gripping the file like it might disappear. “Jesus... Gage.”
She sat beside me, quiet, with her hand on my thigh.
“I trusted him,” I whispered. “Through everything. My brothers trusted him too.”
“And he sold you out,” she said.
I nodded, jaw tight and aching. “Yeah. Looks like it.”
I looked at her, saw the pain in her eyes, the worry. I wasn’t used to someone worrying about me, not someone like her.
“You didn’t have to show me this,” I said. “Could’ve kept it for leverage.”
“I’m not playing a game, Jay.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I didn’t lie about this,” she said, her voice softened. “And I didn’t lie about wanting you tonight.”
My heart jolted, sharp and dangerous. I stood, pacing, needing space, air. Fuck, I wanted her too. Wanted her more than was safe for her, me, or the club.
Her eyes followed me, but she stayed on the bed. “What happens now?”
I turned, file still in my hands, the weight of it heavier than any gun.
“Now? Now, we burn the fucking house down.”
Lucy yawned, loud and unguarded. Tiredness shadowed her eyes, her shoulders slumping like she’d been fighting sleepless nights same as me.
“But we can burn it all down in the morning,” I said, voice softer than I’d ever let it be. “Sleep for now.”
I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering before I texted Riot about the evidence.
“What about you?” she asked, curling into the bed, still fully dressed but kicking her boots free.
“I’ll keep watch.” I tried for a smile, but it didn’t land. Sleep had been a stranger since Caleb vanished, a ghost that taunted me from the edges.
“You need sleep too, Jay.”
“I’m used to it,” I said, turning to the window and watching the dead streets like they might speak if I stared long enough.
Her voice quiet and hesitant, she started, “Would you...”
I looked back at her. “Would I what, princess?”
Her arms wrapped around herself, eyes darting away. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Night, Jay.” Her voice cracked, the words thin and breaking.
I crouched in front of her, refusing to let her hide. “Tell me.”
Her grey eyes met mine, words spilling out fast, like if she didn’t say them now, she never would. “Would you lie with me? Just for a little while?”
Every part of me screamed no. Distance was the only safe choice, but my body didn’t listen.
Boots hit the floor. Kutte and T-shirt peeled off. I slid into the bed behind her, pulling her flush to my chest. She tensed, for a breath, then turned and melted back into me, nestling closer.
Her head rested over my heartbeat, and for one stolen moment, I let myself believe nothing else existed. No ghosts, no betrayals. Just her.
But I knew the storm was coming. It always came.
She stirred when I shifted but didn’t wake. I brushed her hair back, breathing her in, memorizing the rise and fall of her chest against me. My mind replayed the scene from earlier, her needy and wanting me. I allowed myself an hour of sleep, until my phone buzzed against the nightstand. Riot.
Riot: You coming or not?
Me: Be there first thing.
I looked down at her one last time, untangled myself, and took my post at the window.
My head spun circles around Lucy—the way she’d curled into me like she belonged there, the weight of her trust pressing down on me.
I wasn’t built for it, for holding, for keeping.
Normally, I’d walk away before dawn and let the night fade into memory.
But with her, the idea of leaving seemed harder than staying.
It was the best hour’s sleep I’d had in years, and I fought hard to ignore the need to climb back into bed with her.
When the light finally broke, she stirred.
Her eyes caught on me, shirtless, still standing guard like the night hadn’t ended.
For a heartbeat, she stared, her eyes darkening as she took in my hard chest before she tore her gaze away.
She grabbed her bag, hurried to the bathroom, and when she came back out, she was armoured again, donning an ankle-length boho dress and scuffed biker boots, her chin high like nothing had happened.
We met Riot and Link outside the clubhouse. Riot vouched for him, and I trusted him too. He was the one who first confirmed there was a rat in our ranks, and when shit got dark, Link was the only one who hadn’t flinched.
We spread the evidence across the hood of Riot’s truck. Their reactions mirrored mine—shock, anger and grim certainty.
“Let’s get it over with,” Riot said, pushing off the wall.
Link nodded. “Got your back, Pres.” His voice didn’t shake, not even a little. That’s how I knew I’d been right to trust him.
Back inside, I stood at the edge of the barroom, eyes locked on Gage as he grabbed himself a beer. Lucy stayed close at my side, her spine stiff, ready to bolt if things went bad.
I signalled Riot with a chin lift. He shifted, body coiled, waiting.
“Morning, Pres,” Gage said when he finally noticed me.
“Where were you a month ago?” I asked, sliding onto the stool beside him, Lucy perched on his other side. The room hushed.
“Which day?”
“The night Diesel met with the Fangs.” My voice was a growl, barely containing my anger. “The night Diesel died.”
His jaw worked. “I wasn’t there. I was running security for the Arizona run. Ask Link.”
Link stepped forward, face hard. “You weren’t on that run, brother. I was.”
Gage froze for a second, but it was enough.
“Don’t lie to me,” I warned.
Lucy thrust the photos towards him. “Recognize these?”
His face shifted into an expression of panic and guilt, and that was all the proof we needed.
Before we could move, he bolted. Chairs scraped, boots thundered, door slammed. By the time we hit the alley, he was already on his bike.
“Get the bikes,” I roared, tearing for the front. Riot and Link were right behind me.
Engines snarled, tires screamed. We tore through the blocks, blood pounding in my ears louder than the motors. Then we found it, his bike, abandoned in a narrow alley, still ticking with heat and a puddle of blood beside it.
Engines died one by one, the day collapsing into silence.
Riot crouched, swiping two fingers through the puddle and rubbing the tacky red fluid between his thumb and forefinger. “He’s hurt,” he muttered.
Link scanned the shadows, jaw locked. “But not dead. Look.” He pointed at the ground, where staggered boot prints led deeper into the alley. “He’s on foot.”
Adrenaline surged in my veins, hot and sharp. Betrayal burned in my chest like acid, but beneath it was something worse—unfinished business. He’d run from me once, and I wasn’t going to let him run again.
“Coward,” I spat, fists clenching until my knuckles popped.
Riot rose to his full height, jaw set. “Pres, he’s bleeding bad. He won’t get far.”
“Which makes him more dangerous,” Link cut in. “Cornered animal. He’ll lash out before he drops.”
The truth of it sat heavy in my gut. Gage wasn’t just running, he was desperate, and desperation made men lethal.
I raked a hand down my face, exhaling sharp. “Get back to the club and regroup.”
Link nodded once, already moving.
Riot stepped closer, voice low so only I heard. “What if he makes it to the Fangs first?”
“Then we put him in the ground before they do,” I said.