Devil's Game (Reapers MC #3) (4 page)

His eyes darkened and he leaned forward, kissing me very softly on the forehead. A sweet kiss. The kind of kiss you give a little girl at bedtime. Something inside me broke. I’d have said it was my heart, but I didn’t feel sad.

Nope. I was fucking pissed.

Painter had been following me around without making a move for a year. I’d go out dancing and he’d scare off guys who tried to buy me a drink. I’d pick up groceries for the club and he’d insist on following me and unloading them. I even caught him checking my tire pressure once. He’d given me rides home more times than I could count.

“You’re a pussy tease,” I told him. His eyes widened. I dropped my hand lower and gripped his cock firmly through the front of his jeans. Hard as a rock, and good-sized, too. Total waste, so far as I was concerned. “
This
wants me. But either you’re too fucking chicken or you want more time to play around. So sorry, but you lose. Eat shit and die, Painter.”

I turned and walked back outside, feeling a rush of something … almost wild?

It was liberating.

I felt empowered, and looking around the party I realized that no matter how much I loved these people, I needed to branch out. I was more than Picnic’s daughter, but none of them seemed to get
that. I’d show them. I’d show all of them, and Painter could spend the rest of his life screwing his whores. Sooner or later he’d figure out they were shit compared to me, but it’d be too goddamned late.

I was almost out the gate when I discovered the fatal flaw in my big exit.

My purse still sat on the bathroom counter. I groaned, wondering if I could risk leaving it. Nope. No fucking way it’d be safe at a party like this. Nobody from the club would mess with it, but I didn’t trust these random bitches for a minute. I turned and headed back inside, hoping Painter had taken himself off somewhere. I didn’t want to look at him right now. No matter how empowered a girl got, there’s only so much you can expect of yourself.

No sign of him in the hallway. That was good news. I sighed in relief as I pushed into the bathroom, then froze.

Painter had some slut pushed down across the counter, ass pumping as he fucked her from behind. She moaned dramatically with each stroke. Her disgusting, porno-red lips could’ve kissed my handbag sitting next to her on the counter, her face was so close to it. Neither of them seemed to notice me.

I wanted to run and hide.

Instead I walked calmly over to the counter and reached for my bag. Painter stopped suddenly, looking down at me with horrified eyes not a foot away from my face. I let my eyes trail slowly along the length of his body, from his sculpted chest to the faded jeans he hadn’t even bothered to push down, with pointed disgust. Then I turned and walked out the door. I heard him yell my name and the girl squawked in outrage.

I didn’t slow down or look back.

I held it together for the ride home. I’d be damned if I’d give that asshole one more ounce of my energy. He didn’t even deserve my
thoughts
.

Damn
it.

Why had I left my purse there? I’d wanted to be done with Painter, but it didn’t need to be so humiliating. I decided that if anyone showed me even one tiny drop of pity, I’d shoot them.

Dad wasn’t the only one with a gun.

Banks dropped me off at the house and I stumbled in, still slightly drunk and pissy as hell. Story of my life—things were starting to get good, so naturally something happened to fuck it up. And that “something” was always connected to the Reapers. To be fair, everything in my life was connected to the Reapers, but still … I grabbed a pop out of the fridge and climbed the stairs to my room. I pulled off my clothes and then clambered into bed with the TV remote.

My phone dinged with a text message. I considered ignoring it, but habit won out.

I smiled, immediately feeling a little better. Unlike
some people
, Liam had better things to do on a Saturday night than sticking his dick in random skanks—texting me, for one. Of course, I’d never actually met him in person, so maybe he
was
fucking skanks? If so, at least he didn’t rub it in my face.

I almost started crying. Liam always knew what to say.

I giggled.

I froze.

I liked Liam. I liked him a lot—I’d even fantasized about him a little, especially when Painter was being a jerk. But that’s all it was—a fantasy. Liam was far away, safe. Still, I knew he was hot because Cookie told me. I’d also seen a few pictures online, although his profile was pretty sparse.

Shit.

Wow. I felt myself flushing and felt all warm. Liam was cute, but I’d never really let myself think of him that way. Not really. Still, it seemed like I could talk to him about anything. He always had time for me and he didn’t try to tell me what to do. Of course, it helped that in some ways he wasn’t quite real to me.

But this was very real.

I waited, feeling a strange sense of excitement. Then my phone pinged again, and a picture came through. Like I said, I’d seen Liam’s photos before. There was his profile pic, and a couple of snaps of him at a park.

This was something else, though.

He’d taken it with his phone in what was clearly his bathroom, and holy hotness … Liam wore ratty jeans that hung low on his hips, the top button loose and the second in clear danger. No shirt, and his dark brown hair had that sloppy, messy thing going for it. His face was beautiful, almost pretty. Hell, if he didn’t have all those tattoos running across his shoulder and down his arm, he could’ve been in a boy band.

Except nobody in a boy band ever had muscles like those.

He needed a shave, I decided. My eyes dropped back down to his jeans, and I couldn’t help but notice a pretty good bulge down there.

Shit, is he …?

No, I decided. Must just be how the jeans folded. I had a dirty mind.

This was a huge step. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Sure, we’d talked on Facebook and texted each other. A phone call, though …

Couldn’t hurt, right?

I took a deep breath and a wave of dizziness washed through me. Booze or excitement? Maybe my judgment was off. I wanted to call him, though. I wanted to call him a lot. I scrolled through my contact list and found Liam’s phone number. I pressed the green button and listened as the phone rang.

I fluffed up my boobs, studying my cleavage carefully in the bar’s bathroom mirror. I’d worn a black halter corset, which I was now second-guessing.

“I look like a slut,” I moaned.

“Walking the line between hot and slutty is tricky,” Kimber said, leaning forward to put on more lipstick. She smacked her lips carefully, then ran her tongue over her teeth. “But you’re firmly on the hot side tonight. I still think you should be wearing more makeup, though.”

I glanced at her, wondering if she was right. I’d only met Kimber a week ago, but she seemed to have her shit together. Sophie called her a sexual bloodhound. Of course, I’d only known
her
a week, too, but she was the mother of Ruger’s nephew, so she came with references.

“You look fantastic,” Soph said, from the stall behind us. “I wouldn’t have let you out of the hotel room if you didn’t. How much time before the mysterious and magnificent Liam arrives?”

I glanced down at my phone.

“Looks
like I’ve got maybe half an hour?” I said. “If he’s on time.”

“I cannot
wait
to check him out,” Kimber declared. “If he’s hot, can I grab his ass? I need to know if those pictures were real. If they are, you’re just lucky I’m married.”

“Behave,” Sophie said, opening the stall door. She joined us to wash her hands. “I think we need a picture together.”

She pulled out her phone and held it up.

“Okay, strike a pose,” she said. “I want to see sexy, I want to see passion! This is not a game, ladies.”

I started giggling as Kimber crouched, pointing her fingers like a gun at the mirror. Sophie clicked the pic and we all looked at it.

Wow, I did look sort of hot.

“Text that to me?” I asked.

“Me, too,” Kimber chimed in. Sophie fiddled with her phone, then mine buzzed in my pocket.

“Serious talk now,” I said, looking at them in the mirror. “I know I said I wanted to have sex with Liam, but only if it feels right. Don’t be disappointed in me if it doesn’t happen.”

Sophie wrapped her arm around me.

“Hon, you shouldn’t do anything that doesn’t feel right.”

“Exactly,” Kimber said. “Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he brushes his teeth. There’s all kind of potential deal breakers here. Just remember, if he isn’t what you want, there’s always another guy. You just need to stay away from the club and you’ll start meeting them.”

“I still feel weird being here without my dad knowing,” I said. “There’s been lots of trouble this past year … For a long time we were all on lockdown. They almost got Marie, you know. The Devil’s Jacks?”

Kimber’s eyebrows rose.

“Really? Is that a story I want to hear?”

I frowned.

“I don’t know all the details—what I
do
know is that I didn’t
get to go anywhere without protection for a long time,” I answered. “The Jacks and the Reapers have always fought with each other.”

“But you’re not on lockdown now,” Sophie said firmly. “And you haven’t been for a while, right? Ruger is crazy controlling about safety for me and Noah, and he didn’t say anything about needing protection. We’re fine. It’s just a night out—no drama, unless getting well and truly fucked counts as drama. Fingers crossed for you on that one, babe.”

I thought about Liam’s picture and felt a delicious shiver run through me. Fingers crossed for sure … I wanted to lick him all over. There were six condoms in my purse, just ready and waiting. Not that I thought we’d need six, but a girl could hope, right?

“I want to dance,” Kimber said. “You up for it, ladies?”

“Yeah,” Sophie said, but I shook my head.

“I want to grab another drink first,” I told them. “It’s silly, but I feel really nervous about this.”

“Drink up,” Kimber said. “But not too much. Don’t want to make an ass of yourself and turn him off.”

“Oh, shit,” I muttered. “Do you think I will? This is so weird and scary … I don’t want to blow it.”

“You have a black corset, tight jeans, fuck-me heels, and a purse full of condoms,” Sophie said gravely. “It would take a
lot
to turn him off. This isn’t about whether he likes you. It’s about whether
you
like
him
—otherwise you’ll just keep shopping around.”

I hugged her impulsively.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Any time,” she whispered back, squeezing me tight. “Now go out there and get a drink, then come dance for a while. Life is too short to waste time on a guy who isn’t right for you, no matter how hot he is. Always remember that.”

I considered her words, wondering if she was talking about me or herself. Sophie’s situation with Ruger was complicated … Sophie let me go and then we walked out of the bathroom and into the bar.

I sat at a table toward the front of the room, sipping a Sex on the Beach, loud music pounding through me like a manic heartbeat. It felt like the clock over the bar must be broken, time moved so slowly. I kept thinking about the hotel room I’d booked earlier tonight. Kimber and Sophie had one connected to it—safety first, right? Assuming everything went well, I’d be taking Liam back to that room in a few hours.

My intentions toward him weren’t honorable.

Not even a little bit.

Letting go of my crush on Painter had been hard—good thing I had Liam to get me through and remind me I had options. Whatever else happened, I owed him for that. I swirled the drink with my straw, then looked up to see him leaning against the bar.

Shit. SHIT. Liam was here. Early.

I wasn’t ready yet. My mojo was all fucked up. It didn’t help that he wasn’t smiling. Nope, he was looking at me like a hungry animal. So hungry it was scary, and I actually glanced behind me because I couldn’t believe that look was actually for me.

Then he pushed off the bar and started toward me. I froze, terrified. What had I been thinking, meeting a total stranger in a bar? I didn’t know this man. He was …
bigger
than I’d pictured. I mean, I’d seen pictures but my phone screen was small. “Small” wasn’t a word that applied to this guy. Liam in real life seemed to take up more space than the people around him. He was sexy, too. All long, lean muscles that flowed as he crossed the room. His gray henley covered broad shoulders, and his faded jeans moved like a part of his body.

He also wore biker boots and a Harley-Davidson belt buckle.

Holy shit, was Liam a biker? He’d never said a thing about that. What else hadn’t he told me? People moved out of his way, the women eyeing him speculatively and the men uncomfortable meeting his eyes.

Then
he stopped in front of me.

“Em,” he said, reaching out to catch a strand of my hair. He rolled it between his fingers and smiled. It transformed his face from terrifying and dangerous to outright glorious. His eyes were a rich dark brown, with long lashes, and his hair really needed a trim. I wanted to touch it. “You’re prettier in real life than your pictures.”

I warmed, feeling what had to be a truly dorky grin take over my face.

“You’re taller,” I said, projecting my voice over the music.

He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, then slipped into the chair opposite me. I felt myself relax with the distance, until I realized that now I had to face his intense gaze head-on. The pictures hadn’t conveyed the power of his eyes—not even close. I had no idea what to say or do, so I took a sip of my drink. He cocked his head, eyes fixed on my lips. I sat there like an idiot, watching him watching me.

“You want something?” a waitress yelled over the music, breaking my Liam-induced trance.

“Yeah,” he told her. “I’ll take an IPA, whatever you have on tap. You want another?”

I shook my head and the waitress moved on to the next table.

“This is really awkward,” I said, giving a nervous laugh.

He held a hand up to his ear. Great. He couldn’t hear me.

“This is really awkward,” I yelled. “I mean, I know we know each other, but meeting in person is weird.”

Liam’s mouth cracked in a panty-wetting grin.

“It’s different,” he said back, voice pitched to carry. “But I like it. It’s good to finally be in the same room. Are your friends here?”

“They’re dancing,” I told him, my voice faltering. Jesus, at this rate I’d end up with a sore throat from trying to talk so loud. “They want to inspect you.”

He grimaced.

“Of course they do,” he answered. “Sophie and Kimber, right?”

I
nodded, impressed that he remembered their names.

“How do you know them?”

“Um, Sophie is … hmm, hard to explain,” I said, thinking about the Reapers, her weird nonrelationship with Ruger and all the reasons I hadn’t told Liam my full situation earlier. I took another sip of my drink, trying to decide what to say. Dad didn’t like me talking about the club, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that we were in one. Not really …

Fuck it. If the club was going to scare Liam off, might as well get it over with.

“You know, there’s something I’ve never told you,” I said loudly across the table.

He raised a brow.

“Is this the part where you confess you’re actually a man?” he shouted right as the music died. Heads turned and it was just like high school again. Everyone was looking at me. Liam glanced around at our audience, then winked at me. “’Cause if you are, I’m totally into that. Whoever did your boob job is a fuckin’ artist.”

I burst out laughing as the next song started.

“No,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “But there’s a reason I haven’t dated very much. My dad’s part of a motorcycle club. The local president, actually. Anyway, one of the guys in the club has a nephew, and Sophie’s the kid’s mom.”

Liam straightened, his face turning blank. I don’t know what I expected … Concern, maybe? A snide remark? Somehow the total lack of expression in his eyes was worse.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. Damn it, carrying on a conversation in this place was nearly impossible. Had I made a huge mistake? Shit. Would Liam be like all the other guys, too scared of Dad to make a move?

He shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just remembered something I forgot to do earlier. Hey, you want to get out of here?”

“Um,
I’m not sure—”

“That came out wrong,” he told me, smiling again. Had I been imagining things? “I meant, do you want to go to another bar? Public place, lots of witnesses, but maybe a little quieter? I want to really talk to you and it’s kind of hard in here. There’s a place down the street I like. Owner is an old friend of mine.”

I frowned.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t want to leave Sophie and Kimber.”

“We don’t have to,” he yelled. “No worries.”

I smiled, thankful he wasn’t going to push me. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I dug it out to find a text. Several of them, actually, including one from Liam telling me he would be early. It’d come in at the same time Sophie sent the picture. Oops.

I frowned.

“Everything okay?” Liam shouted. I studied his handsome, concerned face and pictured his reaction when Kimber Davis, Sexual Bloodhound, started groping him on the dance floor. I wasn’t sure what would be worse—if it bothered him or if he liked it. Either way, it would embarrass the shit out of me.

“Let’s hit the other place,” I hollered. “You’re right, it’s too loud in here.”

“Text your friends and finish your drink,” he said. “Let’s go talk for real.”

Liam’s choice surprised me.

I don’t know what I expected, but not some grotty little hole in
the wall my dad would’ve loved. The sign outside said Mick’s, and the guy behind the bar looked like a giant pit bull. I’d never been here before, and for good reason.

It wasn’t the kind of place you went with your girlfriends.

The room was long and narrow, with a bar along the left wall and rows of high-backed wooden booths with battered tables down the right. Liam held my hand, gently tugging me toward the back. The place wasn’t exactly busy, mostly guys who looked rougher than your typical Saturday night club boy. A lot rougher, actually. Hell, they could’ve been Reapers. Fortunately, I grew up around tough guys and they didn’t scare me. I wouldn’t want to come in here alone, but I felt safe with Liam.

“Here we go,” he said, stopping at the last booth. I slid in, and then he sat down next to me, his long thigh pressing against mine. I could smell his scent, too. Clean and fresh, with just a hint of strong soap.

“Lots of witnesses, but privacy, too,” he added.

Sitting so close felt like being a little drunk. My hormones were all happy and I wanted to reach down and grab his leg. Instead I forced myself to make small talk.

“So how long are you in town?” I asked, appreciating the fact that I didn’t have to shout.

“Depends,” he replied, smiling at me.

“On what?”

“Whether there’s a reason to stay.”

Oh, I hoped there would be a reason. Despite how nervous he made me, Liam made Painter look like a Ken doll.

“What about work?” I asked, realizing I didn’t know what he did for a living. How had we never talked about that?

“It’s flexible,” he replied. “I guess you’d call me a freelancer. I take on jobs as needed, and it seems to balance out in the end. Have you heard back yet on that aesthetician’s program you applied to down in Portland?”

“Not
yet,” I said, feeling sheepish. I’d been planning on sending my application for two weeks now but kept putting it off because I didn’t know how to tell Dad I was considering a move. “I only sent in the paperwork a few days ago. I kept losing different parts of it, and …”

My voice trailed off as he reached up to touch my cheek, running the back of his big finger across my skin. Pure fire. I couldn’t think. I didn’t
want
to think.

And I really, really didn’t want to talk about getting my aesthetician’s license.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said. I nodded, and then his lips covered mine.