Devil's Game (Reapers MC #3) (8 page)

“
You
are my business,” he told me, his voice grim. He didn’t pause to perv, either. Nope, his touch was impersonal—almost clinical—as he felt around the fresh, white bandage I’d put over it earlier.

“It’s not that big,” he said, looking almost surprised.

“No shit. I told you it wasn’t a big deal. About three inches long, and not even half an inch deep.”

“They take you to the hospital?”

“They took care of me,” I snapped. “They always take care of me. That’s why—if you want to live—you need to let me go and get yourself the hell out of town.”

He laughed, sounding almost like the old Liam, and then he turned his attention toward my breasts. I slapped my hands over them, but he caught my wrists and dragged them high over my head again. I struggled but it was pointless. His strength was effortless, and while he might not be bulky with muscles, his lean body was like steel.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he said, the words low and rough. I couldn’t quite tell if he was talking to me or himself. It hit me right between my legs, though, and I felt like an idiot because not even learning he’d played me was enough to kill my desire. He leaned down, lowering his body over mine, one knee nudging roughly between my legs. I stiffened, refusing to give, and I think I could’ve pulled it off if he’d done something obvious like grope at my breasts.

Instead he dropped his head and ran his nose along the line of my collarbone upward, tickling my neck. It was such a light touch, so faint I’d have questioned whether I was imagining it if I couldn’t see him so clearly. He took in deep breaths, sighing against my ear.

“And I thought shit was fucked up before,” he whispered. “Em,
I know you won’t believe this, but I didn’t plan this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then don’t. Let me go before things get worse.”

He shook his head slowly, lips brushing my cheek as he did it.

“I can’t, sweet girl,” he replied, and if I didn’t know he was a soulless bastard, I would’ve called that regret in his voice. “My brother’s life is at stake.”

My breath caught and for a second I thought I might cry. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want anyone in my family dead.

And I didn’t want my Liam dead, either. Intellectually I knew “my Liam” had never existed, but I could feel him and smell him all around me. My body refused to believe he’d betrayed us.

Fuck.

“Toke doesn’t care about me, so it’s not like he’s going to turn himself in to save a couple of women,” I said carefully. “And the rest of the Reapers can’t make it happen. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know this—if my dad could find Toke, he’d be dead already. Club business aside, my father would
not
let a man who hurt me live. Period. Kidnapping us isn’t going to get your brother back any faster.”

Hunter kissed me, catching my mouth and sliding his tongue deep inside. Need exploded through me, curling up from my pelvis through my body like fire, and the world slowed as his hips nestled between mine, spreading me open beneath him. His big, rough hand caught my breast, his callused thumb sliding back and forth across my nipple as the kiss deepened.

Oh shit …

I’d love to say I fought valiantly to preserve my virtue, but that just wasn’t an option. I don’t even have the words to describe how much I’d wanted him earlier that night, but that was nothing compared to this. I was pumped full of adrenaline and anger and fear and so many emotions.

In an instant they all turned to lust.

My hips cradled his as he started slowly rocking into me, our
jeans a barrier I suddenly hated. His thumb and tongue played me in time as a slow burn built deep inside. This was different than it’d been at the bar, darker somehow.

Probably because back then I’d had hope.

Now every rock of my hips was a betrayal of my club, my family, the father who’d given everything to take care of me through the years. But I was empty, and the growing ridge of Hunter’s erection would fill me perfectly—I knew it as surely as I knew he wasn’t real.

He started moving faster, pulling his mouth away from mine and dropping his head down into my neck. He’d let my hands free somewhere along the way, which I discovered when I brought them around his back, tugging at his shirt. Not that I was undressing him, at least not consciously.

I just needed to feel his bare skin under my fingers.

Each movement of his hips scraped the long, strong length of his jeans-clad dick along my core, the rough fabric causing just the right amount of friction mixed with delicious pain. His shirt rubbed at my nipples and I found myself wishing he’d tug and play with them.

Then he gave a long, low groan and things changed.

Before he’d been almost tasting me, and whatever had been between us was almost painful in its restrained intensity. Now the wildness I’d felt from him at the bar, the darkness from the alley, they all came back. His muscles grew tight and his body stiffened. Then his hands came down on either side of my head as he pulled up abruptly.

Now Liam—
no, Hunter
—looked down at me, his eyes still full of that horrible tension I’d seen when I’d told him about Toke. His gaze burned into my face as his hips pinned me down into the mattress. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, finding a better angle as he started pumping against my jeans-clad opening.

I think that’s when it hit me—I didn’t even need to take off my pants.

I was going to come, right here, right now, just from the feel of
his cock rubbing me through the fabric, and I gave a little gasping moan of something between horror and incredible, terrible need.

“Please,” I whispered as my leg muscles quivered. “Oh, shit …”

Hunter bared his teeth at me in what I suppose could be called a smile. But he wasn’t smiling. He looked like he wanted to eat me and I felt fear because I knew I’d let him. I’d do anything, so long as he didn’t stop moving until it ended and I shattered apart.

“Em,” he said, and my name came ragged off his lips. “Em, baby. C’mon, Em. Now.”

His hips pressed me deep into the bed then, rotating with rough efficiency. The stimulation was so intense it hurt. But the hurt wasn’t a bad thing. Something about it, the way his eyes burned into mine, the way I couldn’t have fought him off if I tried … my utter helplessness.

Fuck.

I loved it.

I felt my back arch as his hips crushed mine, and then my world exploded and I screamed. It wasn’t a pretty, sexy scream, either. It was full of all the rage and anger and hurt and incredible fucking need I felt for him as it burst out of me.

Seconds later his body shuddered and he shouted, punching the mattress right next to my head. Then he collapsed on top of me, panting.

Unreal.

That’s when it all hit me and I started laughing.

I’d just had incredible, indescribable sex with the hottest guy I’d ever met—and I was still a fucking virgin.

Jesus. Just like high school.

I couldn’t
give
this shit away.

I flopped down next to Em, trying to make my brain work again.

I’d come in my pants like a fucking kid.

Yeah. If the brothers saw this, they’d crucify me.

“You’re gonna kill me,” I muttered, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind one of those perfect little ears. Her crystal-blue eyes looked up at me, dazed, and not entirely homicidal. Damn, I liked that way too much.

Damn, she was pretty. Smelled good, too.

“No, it’s Dad who’ll kill you,” she said quietly. Thoughtfully. Great, because thinking wasn’t going to make this any better on her end. “Liam—wait, what the hell is your name, anyway?”

“It’s Liam. Hunter is my road name.”

A shadow crossed her face.

“Are you really one of them?”

I didn’t pretend not to understand.

“Yeah, I’m a Devil’s Jack. Nomad. Been my job to keep tabs on you and your sister for a while. Among other things.”

“Why?”
she asked, her face genuinely confused. “We’re not important.”

I laughed, wondering how she could be so impossibly naive.

“You’re pretty fuckin’ important, babe,” I told her. “That club loves you, even more than your sister because you stayed in Coeur d’Alene. Half the guys consider you their daughter and the other half want to bang you. All of ’em are scared of your dad. Still can’t quite figure out why he’s not national president. When Atlas retired last year, we figured he’d step up for sure.”

“He’s not interested,” she said absently. Then she leaned up on one arm, studying me. I kept my eyes on her face, because clearly she’d forgotten that corset thing was wide open and showing off her tits. Not my place to remind her … Fortunately, her puffy lips provided a nice distraction. I kept picturing them wrapped around my cock. “Tell me the truth, Liam. Was there ever anything real between us?”

I should tell her it was all real. Tell her it was love at first sight, that we were Romeo and Juliet and I’d defy my club to be her one and only.

But for once I was just fucking sick and tired of lying.

“I have no idea what’s between us,” I said, not even sure that was true. The first time I’d seen Em, it’d felt like a gut punch. I’d wanted to nail her on the spot. That hadn’t changed, but now that I had her laid out on a bed, for some reason making her feel better was more important than sticking my dick in her. Go figure.

“Not sure I know what real is,” I said. “But I don’t believe in love, babe. I believe in gettin’ laid.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I shrugged, feeling almost philosophical about the situation. There’s a certain freedom in being totally screwed—and that was definitely what this was shaping up to be. Clusterfuck all around.

“Well, I do know I’ve got come all over my pants, and that’s not something that happens every day,” I told her. “You’re fucking hot, babe. No matter what other stories you tell yourself, don’t doubt it
for a minute. I can’t remember the last time I blew like that. Not sure what it means, but that part’s sure as shit real.”

“Heh,” she said, then rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. “Am I gonna end up dead?”

I considered the question seriously, rolling it through my mind. I felt certain about one thing. I’d kill myself before I hurt her—well, hurt her physically. I was relatively sure I’d already done serious damage emotionally. But so long as I needed her making phone calls to Daddy, I couldn’t afford to let her feel safe. Those calls needed to motivate him, and that required fear.

Crap.

I didn’t like this feeling, I decided. I didn’t like feeling at all. Half the guys in the Jacks thought I was some kind of killing machine, and they were probably right. Give me a target, I’d neutralize it. But that usually involved guns or knives … or on one very memorable occasion a particularly sharp deer antler. Sometimes you just have to improvise. I tended not to talk to my victims much, let alone try to comfort them.

But for reasons I didn’t care to consider, I wanted to make her feel better.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” I finally said, compromising. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“What about Sophie?”

“I got nothing against her, either. All I want is my brother back. Alive.”

Silence fell again. I could almost hear her thinking.

“What would you do for Kit?” I asked her abruptly.

“What do you mean?”

“How far would you go to save her life?”

Would she make the connection? Understand why I had to fight for my brother?

“I’d do anything I had to,” she replied softly, and I heard a hint of despair in her voice. Yup, she was starting to get it. Somehow that was even worse. “I’d steal. I’d lie … I’d kill. Anything.”

Silence
fell again, heavy between us. Shit. I pushed up suddenly, rolling off the bed. Her eyes followed me as I walked across the room to the closet, opening it to find my bag and pull out a clean pair of briefs. I thought she gave a little gasp as I slid down my pants and kicked them off, but that could’ve been wishful thinking. I pulled up the fresh ones, then tugged my shirt over my head.

Her eyes went wide as she watched me come back toward her. I wanted to believe my body impressed her, but hell—she was probably just looking over my tats to decide which one she hated most. I didn’t have a back patch with my full club colors on it, but there were a few DJMC symbols here and there.

“You should put on some clothes,” she said.

“Need some fuckin’ sleep. Might as well get comfortable,” I told her, and that part was the truth. Apparently I’d shot all my adrenaline out through my dick, and while a second round would finish things off nicely, I didn’t think she was up to it. I leaned down over the bed and swung her up, setting her on her feet. Then I reached for the snap of her jeans, figuring she’d be more comfortable without them, but also pretty sure she wouldn’t take them off herself.

That’s when she punched me in the stomach, and it wasn’t a girly punch, either.

Christ.

It fucking hurt.

Em glared at me, backing away slowly. She had her fists up and was balanced lightly on her toes, clearly ready to defend herself. Cute. But if she was a martial arts specialist of some kind, I hadn’t seen any evidence over the past six months.

Jesus, you sound like a fucking stalker, asshole.

I suppose I was.

“Glad you didn’t go for my nuts,” I commented, taking in the sight of her. Boobs out, pink nipples all hard, teasing me. Shit. Maybe a second round wasn’t out of the question?

“Next time I’ll rip your
dick
off,” she muttered, eyes narrowing. Okay, so round two was definitely out for now. Noted. Still,
fearsome Em was fuckin’ adorable. Kind of like a really angry baby mouse.

“What were you trying to do, anyway?” she demanded.

“I want to sleep,” I told her. “You need sleep, too, and it’s more comfortable without jeans. That’s it, babe, no big, evil plan to get you out of your clothes. It’s gonna be a long haul, you should rest while you can. God knows what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“My dad’s killing you tomorrow,” she muttered, but she didn’t sound entirely happy about it. Interesting.

“You sound almost sad,” I said. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided I should live after all?”

“Fuck you.”

“That an invitation?”

She turned away from me and started doing up her corset-thingy, which was a damned shame. Then I caught a glimpse of the bandage and sobered.

“You in any pain?”

“It’s fine,” she muttered. “You aren’t sleeping in here, are you?”

“Yeah,” I told her. “Don’t worry, I’ll share the covers with you.”

Em cocked her head at me.

“Why don’t you put me in with Sophie?” she asked. “I’ll bet she’s scared.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Scared?”

“That’s a dick question, under the circumstances,” she muttered. “I guess it was all a lie between us, but please don’t think that because I was stupid enough to fall for your shit once means I’m actually stupid, okay? I’m not going to talk this out with you and give you more information, or let you play with me for your own entertainment.”

Now that was a shame. My cock liked the idea of playing with her quite a bit … But she was right—this wasn’t a game, we weren’t friends, and I shouldn’t fuck with her head any more than I had to.

Had
to respect her for that.

“Okay, lie down,” I told her bluntly. “I’m going to cuff your wrist to the bed. Then I’m going to sleep and so are you. Don’t fight with me and I won’t play games. This isn’t a negotiation.”

I saw something cross her face … Disappointment? Maybe. Or resignation.

Either way, I knew I’d just broken her a little more.

Like so much that’d happened tonight, I didn’t know what to think of that.

An hour later I was still wide awake.

I don’t know what I was smoking, thinking I’d fall asleep with Em in my arms. She dropped off pretty quick, which kind of surprised me. I mean,
I
knew she was safe with me—at least physically—but
she
didn’t.

She’d refused to take off her clothes, but I still felt every inch of that beautiful body up against mine and it was fantastic. Of course I knew guys with old ladies, and they seemed to enjoy being around them. I’d never understood it, but if it was anything like this, maybe it wasn’t so crazy.

I decided to play a little game. I’d lie in the dark, holding her, and pretend she was my old lady for a while. Pretend we lived in a world where I could have something as beautiful as her. That I didn’t owe the Jacks everything, or that she wasn’t a Reaper.

Then I caught myself, because what the fuck?

Christ, I didn’t want an old lady—or at least one like Em, who could think for herself. I’d signed on for someone who’d do what she was told and be thankful for it. That’d been the plan, and now it was blown to shit. If I was gonna pretend, a better fantasy would be rolling her over and screwing her brains out. Nice … Imagining myself inside her was fun for a while, but then my cock started getting pretty pissed off that we weren’t screwing her brains out for real. Considering I’d only brought a couple changes of clothing with
me and I’d already soaked one pair of pants, seemed like a good idea to get some space.

I managed to get out of bed without waking her and headed downstairs to find Skid in the living room, playing Halo. An energy drink sat next to him, right next to a dusting of white powder. Guess I wasn’t the only one pulling an all-nighter.

He set down the controller and raised a brow.

“So, what kind of game you playing, bro?” he asked me. “Because something feels off to me. This bitch is your means to an end. That’s it, right?”

“I’m aware,” I said, my tone dry. “Believe me.”

“Just don’t forget whose team we’re playing for. I heard from Kelsey. Grass is stable. She says it’s not as bad as they thought when he first came in.”

“No word on Clutch?”

“Nope,” he answered.

“Em says Toke’s gone rogue. Reapers have lost control of him. If it’s the truth, we’re fucked.”

“Think she’s messin’ with you?”

I considered the question.

“I think there’s a good chance he’s off the reservation,” I replied. “None of this makes sense. We’ve got a truce, the Reapers voted on it. Shit with Gracie happened a long time ago—if this was a club hit, I don’t think they’d have bothered talking truce in the first place. Retribution’s worthless if you don’t claim it.”

“Asshole couldn’t have fucked Burke over better if we’d planned it out with him,” Skid said, sighing. “We don’t shut this down, it could take him out. All of us fucked then.”

I didn’t bother responding, because it was the simple truth. We had one shot at revolution in the club. Mason had already given Burke the heads-up—his cancer was spreading. The national president of the Devil’s Jacks MC was on his way out. He wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer, which meant Burke had to make his move soon or it was all over.

This
was our chance to take the Devil’s Jacks back, make the club back into what it’d been created to be. A brotherhood of riders. Not a bunch of cheap thugs looking to line their own pockets. We’d hoped for more time to consolidate our position, but if the truce held, we’d have the votes we needed. The charters down south were desperate for help keeping out the cartel—help we couldn’t give them if we had to fight a two-front war with the Reapers.

“Hey, bro?” Skid asked.

“What?”

“Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure even if we manage to pull some kind of peace out of the fire, you won’t get to keep your pretty toy upstairs.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, letting myself fall back into a chair. I scratched my stomach and eyed his can of Monster. I needed some of that shit. “It’s fucked.”

Silence fell between us.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he asked. “ ‘It’s fucked’? Where’s the big plan? You’re the one always thinkin’ things through, telling us we need a strategy.”

“The plan isn’t coming together this time,” I said. “Do you still think we can pull it off?”

“Pull off what? Surviving tomorrow? I give us sixty-forty. Feelin’ optimistic.”

I laughed, because he was probably right. I’d get Em through it, though. No way that pretty girl was gettin’ caught in the crossfire. I wasn’t quite sure why I felt so strongly about keeping her safe, but I did.

“Tomorrow I’m going to meet with Hayes,” I said. “Burke’s checking out his story, maybe our sources down south can say whether it’s true he doesn’t know where Toke is. Based on Em’s reaction, I think there’s a pretty good chance he’s gone rogue.”

“How do you know she’s not spouting the party line?” Skid said. “I think we’ve established your dick’s doing the thinking when it comes to her.”

“You’re
probably right there,” I admitted. “But I believe she’s telling the truth. According to her, he’s been on the run for a full week. He sliced her up at a party last weekend. She’s got a knife wound—
someone
cut her.”

That caught Skid’s attention.

“Damn,” he muttered. “What the hell is going on in that club? Hayes is serious as shit about his girls, no way he’ll let that stand.”