3. CALLIE
CALLIE
My daughter decided Reaper was safe because he accepted half a biscuit without asking where her hands had been.
Apparently, that was all it took.
“You have to eat the soft part first,” Maddie told him, watching closely as he held the broken biscuit between two scarred fingers. “The bottom is crunchy because Mommy left it under the hot light too long.”
“I did not leave it there too long,” I said.
“You did.”
Reaper took a bite without looking away from her. “Tastes fine to me.”
Maddie smiled as though he had passed an important test, then reached for his hand. Every muscle in his body locked. He stared down at her tiny fingers wrapped around two of his, and for the first time since he had walked into the diner, he looked completely out of his depth.
“You got a motorcycle?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Is it loud?”
“Very.”
“Mommy hates loud motorcycles.”
“I don’t hate them.”
“You said they sound like angry lawn mowers.”
Mrs. Alvarez covered a laugh with her hand. I closed my eyes and wished the porch would open beneath me.
When I looked again, Reaper was watching me over Maddie’s head. The corner of his mouth moved.
“Angry lawn mower, huh?”
“It was six in the morning.”
“Wasn’t me, sweetheart. You’d remember hearin’ mine.”
The way he said it made heat move through me that had nothing to do with motorcycles.
“We need to go home,” I said.
Reaper’s almost-smile disappeared. “I clear the house first.”
“The police are sending patrols.”
“And Gunner’s already on his way.”
“I don’t know Gunner.”
“You don’t need to. I do.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked between us. “Callie, perhaps you should listen to him.”
I stared at her. “You’re taking his side?”
“I’m taking the side with the motorcycle club standing between you and the motorcycle club threatening your daughter.”
That was difficult to argue with.
Maddie tugged Reaper’s hand. “Are you coming to our house?”
“Yeah, little bit.”
“Why?”
“To check for monsters.”
She nodded as though that made perfect sense. “There’s one under my bed, but he only comes out when Mommy turns off the light.”
“Maddie.”
“What? He said he was checking.”
Reaper crouched until they were almost eye level. Even lowered, he looked too large for the narrow porch, all black leather, hard muscle, and scars beside a little girl in dinosaur pajamas.
“Monsters know better than to come around when I’m there,” he told her.
Maddie’s eyes widened. “Do they know your name?”
“Every last one.”
She appeared satisfied with that and held up her arms to me. I gathered her against my chest, blanket and all, and tried not to notice the way Reaper watched me settle her weight against my hip.
He followed us to my car and opened the rear door before I could reach it. Maddie let me strap her into the booster seat, then leaned around me to look at him.
“You’re too big for our couch.”
“He is not sleeping on our couch.”
Reaper rested one arm against the top of the door. “We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t.”
His gaze moved over my face before dropping briefly to my mouth. “Get in the car, sweetheart.”
I should have argued.
Instead, I closed Maddie’s door and climbed behind the wheel with my pulse beating too hard.
Reaper followed me home, his headlight filling my mirrors through every turn. I had spent most of my life resenting men who believed a woman needed them behind her, watching where she went, but there was something different about knowing he was there. I didn’t feel followed.
I felt protected.
That realization frightened me more than Viper had.
My house sat near the edge of town, small and old with peeling white paint, a narrow porch, and a yard I kept promising myself I would fix when I had enough money and time. I pulled into the driveway and reached for my seat belt.
Reaper was beside my door before I opened it.
“Stay in the car.”
“This is my house.”
“Then you can wait two minutes while I make sure it’s empty.”
“You cannot walk into my home without me.”
“I ain’t askin’ permission.”
“I could have you arrested.”
“You could try.” He said smirking.
“Reaper.”
He looked back.
“If there is someone inside, you call the police. You do not do anything stupid.”
His expression went flat. “Sweetheart, if there’s somebody inside your house waitin’ for you and that kid, callin’ the police is gonna be the nicest thing I do.”
Before I could answer, he drew a gun from beneath his cut and disappeared around the side of the house.
Maddie leaned forward in her seat. “Mommy?”
“It’s okay.”
“Why does Mr. Reaper have a gun?”
I closed my eyes briefly. “Because he has a very complicated job.”
“Is he a police officer?”
“Definitely not.”
He returned several minutes later, tucking the gun away.
“House is clear, but your back lock’s loose and there are fresh prints outside the kitchen window.”
My stomach tightened. “What kind of prints?”
“Boots. Could be nothin’. Could be Viper checkin’ the place before he came to the diner.”
Maddie was still listening.
I forced my voice to remain calm. “Can we go inside?”
Reaper opened my door. “You stay close to me.”
“Stop ordering me around.”
“Stop makin’ me repeat myself.”
I glared at him, but he waited until I took Maddie out before leading us toward the house.
Inside, he checked every room again, tested every window, and shoved a chair beneath the handle of the back door. Maddie followed him through the house asking questions faster than he could answer them.
“Why do you wear black?”
“Shows less dirt.”
“Why do you have pictures on your arms?”
“Those are tattoos.”
“Did they hurt?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you cry?”
“No.”
“Mommy cried when she got hers.”
Reaper’s head turned toward me. His eyes swept down my body with slow interest.
“You got ink, sweetheart?”
“No.”
Maddie frowned. “You have flowers on your hip.”
I nearly choked. “Maddie, why don’t you go choose a bedtime story?”
She ran down the hallway before she could expose anything else.
Reaper stepped closer. “Flowers, huh?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Where on your hip?”
“Still none of your business.”
His gaze lowered as though he could see through my clothes. “I’ll find out.”
The certainty in his voice sent a hot pulse through me.
“You seem very sure of yourself.”
“Felt your pulse back at the diner.” He leaned close enough that his breath warmed my cheek. “Ain’t confidence if I already know.”
I opened my mouth, but headlights swept across the living room wall. Reaper moved before I heard the engine. He grabbed me around the waist and dragged me down as the front window exploded.
Glass tore through the room. Something heavy struck the opposite wall, and I hit the floor beneath Reaper’s body with his arm shielding my head.
Maddie screamed.
Every thought disappeared except her.
I shoved against Reaper. “Maddie!”
“Stay down.”
“She’s in the hallway.”
“I got her.”
He was on his feet before I could move, drawing his gun and crossing the room with terrifying speed. I crawled after him, glass biting through the knees of my pants.
Maddie stood in her bedroom doorway crying, both hands pressed over her ears. Reaper holstered the gun and dropped in front of her.
“Hey, little bit. Look at me.”
She stared at him through her tears.
“You hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Good. Come here.”
Maddie threw herself at him.
Reaper caught her carefully, one huge hand covering the back of her head as she buried her face against his shoulder. He stood with her clinging to him and carried her away from the shattered window.
I had never seen anything as frightening as Reaper walking through my house with a gun beneath his cut.
I had also never seen anything as gentle as the way he held my daughter.
He put Maddie into my arms in the kitchen, then called someone.
“Gunner, they hit the house. Front window. Dark truck headin’ east.” His voice turned colder with every word. “Find the bastard, but don’t move without backup. I ain’t leavin’ them.”
He ended the call and returned to the living room.
The brick had landed beside the couch, wrapped in white paper. Reaper pulled on gloves before opening it.
KEEP QUIET.
Two words written in black marker.
His expression didn’t change, but the room seemed to grow colder around him.
Another motorcycle arrived five minutes later. The man who entered wore GUNNER on his cut and carried himself with the calm precision of someone who had already assessed every exit before stepping through the door.
He looked at Reaper. “Tracks lead toward the highway. Knox is checkin’ the north road.”
“Stay outside. Nobody gets near this house.”
Gunner nodded once and disappeared.
“You need to pack,” Reaper said.
“I’m not taking Maddie to a clubhouse in the middle of the night.”
“Ain’t safe here.”
“She’s terrified and exhausted. I am not dragging her somewhere unfamiliar.”
His jaw tightened. “Then I’m stayin’.”
I looked toward the shattered window. “The couch is covered in glass.”
“I’ve slept in worse places.”
“That does not surprise me.”
He came closer, stopping when only inches separated us. “Somebody threatened your kid, planted a gun to frame my club, and put a brick through your window. I ain’t leavin’ you alone because you’re too damn stubborn to accept help.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“No, sweetheart. You needed it.”
I hated that he was right.
Maddie appeared in the kitchen doorway with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “Mr. Reaper?”
His attention shifted to her immediately. “Yeah, little bit?”
“Can you check under my bed?”
“I already did.”
“Check again.”
He looked at me before following her down the hallway.
I stood alone in the kitchen and listened to his heavy boots move through my daughter’s bedroom. He checked beneath the bed, inside the closet, and behind the curtains without once telling her there was nothing to be afraid of.
Instead, he showed her there was nothing there.
When he returned, he had removed his cut and draped it over one arm. Blood ran from a shallow cut near his shoulder where the glass had caught him.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothin’.”
“That appears to be your answer to every injury.”
“Usually is.”
“Take off your shirt.”
His gaze sharpened. “Careful, sweetheart.”
“I need to clean the cut.”
“Sure that’s the only reason?”
I opened the cabinet and pulled out the first-aid kit. “Sit down.”
He lowered himself into a kitchen chair and dragged the black shirt over his head.
I forgot what I was doing.
His chest was covered in ink, flames and skulls spreading across hard muscle and disappearing over his shoulders. Scars cut through the tattoos in several places, some thin and faded, others thick enough to tell me whatever had made them had nearly killed him.
His body looked built for violence.
It also looked devastatingly good beneath my kitchen light.
“Stop starin’.”
“I’m checking for more glass.”
“Thought you didn’t like men tellin’ lies.”
I met his eyes. “I’m not lying.”
“No?” He spread his knees slightly as I stepped between them with the antiseptic. “Then tell me what you’re thinkin’.”
“That you have too many tattoos.”
“Bullshit.”
I pressed the gauze against his shoulder harder than necessary. He didn’t flinch. Instead, one hand settled on my hip, his thumb finding the strip of bare skin between my shirt and pants.
“Flowers around here?” he asked.
My breath caught.
“Move your hand.”
“Tell me you mean it.”
I looked at him.
His eyes were dark, fixed on my mouth, and every part of me remembered the weight of his body covering mine when the window broke. He had moved without hesitation, putting himself between me and the glass before I understood we were in danger.
Fear was still moving through me.
So was something hotter.
His hand tightened on my hip.
“Don’t look at me like that unless you want me doin’ something about it.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re wonderin’ if I kiss as rough as I talk.”
My pulse jumped.
Reaper stood, forcing me backward until my hips struck the kitchen counter. One hand remained on my waist while the other closed around my jaw, tilting my face toward his.
“Tell me to stop, sweetheart.”
I should have.
Instead, I gripped his bare shoulders. “I don’t want you to stop.”
His mouth came down on mine.
There was nothing careful about the kiss. He took my mouth hard, his fingers sliding into my hair as he pressed me against the counter. I opened for him, and his tongue swept against mine with a rough sound that vibrated through his chest.
Heat crashed through me.
I pulled him closer, forgetting the broken window, the police, and every reason this was a terrible idea. His body crowded mine, hard muscle against softness, and when his thigh pushed between my legs, I moaned into his mouth.
Reaper broke the kiss with a curse.
His forehead pressed against mine, his breathing heavy while his hand remained tangled in my hair.
“Fuck.”
I could feel how hard he was against my stomach.
“Why did you stop?”
His thumb moved over my swollen bottom lip. “Because when I fuck you—and I will—it ain’t gonna be because you’re scared, grateful, or comin’ down from somebody throwin’ a brick through your window.”
My body tightened around the promise in his voice.
“That’s arrogant.”
“No, sweetheart.” He kissed me once more, slower this time, then stepped back. “That’s me tellin’ you exactly what’s gonna happen.”
He picked up his shirt and walked toward the living room.
I stayed against the counter, lips burning and knees unsteady, while he cleared glass from the couch and checked every lock for the third time.
For the first time since Maddie was born, someone else stayed awake so I could sleep.
The dangerous part was not that I trusted him.
It was how badly I wanted him.