Reaper's Legacy (7 page)

“You’ve never even met them. Kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” I said, looking away. “But I’m going to do the best I can for Noah, and hanging out with a bunch of criminals isn’t part of that. I don’t believe for a minute that there isn’t something shady going on with you guys.”

Ruger’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Great. Now I’d insulted him.

“Considering your folks haven’t talked to you in seven years,
your son’s father needs a restraining order, and you can’t hold down a job or provide for your child, seems to me like you aren’t in a position to be calling us anything,” he told me, voice tight. Friendly Ruger was gone. “Lotta things happen at the clubhouse. Some of those things run deep, no question. Might scare you. But I’ll tell you one thing. When one of our own is in trouble, we don’t kick ’em out in the street. More than I can say about your daddy. He’s the model citizen and we’re the criminals, but shit goes down, I can count on my brothers. You got anyone you can say that about? Besides me? Because deep down in my heart, in my guts, in my fuckin’ DNA, I’m a Reaper, Sophie. Still sure we aren’t good enough for you?”

I caught my breath, hating how my eyes filled with moisture. Bringing up my folks was a cheap shot. I tried to ignore the tears, refusing to blink and let them fall. Then my nose started running and I sniffed.

“That was low, Ruger.”

“That was
true
, Sophie. You wanna be all high and mighty, you need to find another target. Your ass is gettin’ saved by me, and behind me stands the club. If you were with the Reapers, Noah’d be surrounded by adults who care about him. Lot of kids in the club, Soph. They go home when things get wild, but lemme tell you—somethin’ like this happened in Coeur d’Alene to one of our kids, I’d have to fight my brothers for the privilege of killin’ the guy. That’s
family
, Sophie. And Noah could use some of that family around him.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Then don’t talk,” he replied. “But listen up. I get that you don’t want to be part of club life. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna force the point, because if you’re gonna be a stuck-up bitch I wouldn’t want you around them anyway.”

“Stop it!”

“Shut the fuck up and listen,” he snapped. “This is important.
Love the club, hate the club, you need to be aware of a few things, because they’re part of your reality now. The asshole that hurt Noah, you saw the ink on his back, right?”

“Yes,” I replied, wishing him straight to hell.

“Called a back patch,” he continued. “It’s his club colors, right on his skin. Club colors are what we wear on our cuts—our vests, call ’em rags, too—and they say a lot about a man. In this case, those colors said he was part of the Devil’s Jacks. Lotta MCs out there, good and bad, but the Jacks are one of the worst. Reapers and Jacks are enemies. Things worked out this time, but you run into a guy with colors like that again, you need to tell me. I’ll still go after him, but I’ll call in more backup first. This morning it all worked out. Next time it might not. You got me?”

I shrugged, looking away. Ruger growled in frustration.

“I don’t think you get me, Soph,” he said. “Let me tell you a little story. Got a brother named Deke, down in the Portland chapter. Deke’s got a niece named Gracie—his old lady’s sister’s kid. She had jack shit to do with the Reapers, by the way. So Gracie went off to college down in northern Cali three years ago and started dating a guy who turned out to be a hangaround with the Jacks.”

I looked over at him, unnerved. He stared straight ahead, face grim.

“So little Gracie went to a party with him and a bunch of guys raped her, one right after the next,” he said. “You ever heard of a train?”

I stared at him and swallowed.

“Believe it or not, some women are down with that,” he continued. “Gracie isn’t one of them, and they were
not
gentle. They tore her up so bad she’ll never have kids. Then they carved a ‘DJ’ into her forehead and dumped her in a ditch. Deke found out when they sent him pictures they took of her with her own fuckin’ phone. Tried to kill herself. She’s doin’ better now, engaged to one of the brothers in the Portland chapter. Did I mention they aren’t nice guys?”

He fell silent. I thought about the two men I’d met earlier, Hunter and Skid.

“What happened to the men who did it?” I asked hesitantly. “Were they … were those guys you were talking to …?”

“It was four hangarounds and two Jacks,” he told me. “Good news is, they won’t be hurtin’ any more girls. Hunter and Skid weren’t part of that particular mess, which still doesn’t qualify them as decent human beings. So let me ask you again—you got me, Soph?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, feeling sick.

Silence fell. Noah started laughing at his video in the backseat. Ruger drove, jaw muscle tight, staring straight ahead. Gracie’s story played over and over in my head, along with what he’d said earlier.

“I’m not a stuck-up bitch.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“I have a right to keep my son away from your club.”

“That why you left Coeur d’Alene?”

“You know damned well why I left Coeur d’Alene,” I said, hating him. “And that’s the second time you’ve called me a bitch. Don’t do it again.”

“Or what?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, frustrated. I crossed my arms. The motion pushed my breasts up high. His eyes caught on them in the rearview mirror and I dropped my arms, tugging up my tank.

What a stupid game I’d been playing that morning.

Ruger wasn’t a boy I could tease by dressing like a slut. I didn’t want his attention, or to get more involved in his world.

I’d never be more than a toy to him, and the men in his family had a history of breaking their toys.

They just did it in different ways.

Ruger didn’t actually live in Coeur d’Alene. He lived west of town in Post Falls, back in the hills near the Washington border at the end of a private gravel road. We pulled up to his place around five that evening, Horse behind us. The driveway widened into a large parking area behind an L-shaped, two-story cedar house overlooking a small valley. The setting was fantastic. Evergreens surrounded us, and I heard the trickle of a stream somewhere not too far away. A strip of grass ran down the hillside around to the front. It looked like it needed water, and given the yard’s condition, I got the impression Ruger liked his landscaping natural.

Noah bounded out of the car, running around the house in excitement. I stretched up high as I stood, pulling the tank up with me, exposing my stomach. I felt Ruger’s eyes touch me, cool and speculative, and I quickly pulled it back down.

Really, really stupid idea, that tank.

What the hell had I been thinking? You don’t pull a tiger’s tail. I’d spent years wishing Ruger would notice me, just once. Now I needed him to
un
notice me and start treating me like furniture again. Life as furniture might not be exciting, but it was definitely safe.

“Your car needs a tune-up,” Horse said, walking over to us. He tossed me the keys and I caught them, chest jiggling precariously. Horse eyed me, then smirked at Ruger, who watched us with something like disgust. “I’ll help haul your shit in, then I’ll head home to Marie. She’s startin’ school day after tomorrow. Want to enjoy some time with her before she gets all stressed out and bitchy.”

Ruger walked to the door, which sat kitty-corner from the three-car garage forming one side of the “L.” A narrow band of deck followed the line of the house around to the front. He punched in a code, opened the door, and we went inside. There he put in another code, because apparently one wasn’t enough for Mr. Security-Is-Critically-Important.

I walked in and my mouth dropped open.

I fell in love with the house instantly.

Before me was a great room with a giant, prow-shaped bank of windows looking out across the valley. The place wasn’t huge, but it was definitely big enough to impress me. To the right was a door that had to lead into the garage. To the left was an open-plan kitchen with a breakfast bar. A separate dining area held a table. Dishes littered the counter, and a smattering of empty beer bottles stood on the bar, which separated the kitchen from the main room. A stone fireplace lined one wall in the living room, and a sweeping staircase snaked upward along the other.

Forgetting all about the men, I walked slowly forward to take in the view. Directly in front of the house was a broad meadow, ringed by evergreens lower on the slope. The valley lay beyond that, stunning and sweeping. Here and there I saw other houses, a mix of high-end, new construction and original farms. I looked up to see that the ceiling vaulted all the way to the second story. Behind me was a loft. A pile of dirty laundry had been shoved against the open railing, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Ruger had never been much of a housekeeper.

The living room needed attention, too. The leather couches seemed to be relatively new, as did the rest of the furniture, but for all the care he took to keep things clean it could’ve been a frat house. There was even an empty pizza box on the coffee table.

I heard a beer top pop and turned to find the men standing in the kitchen.

“Your house is almost as disgusting as the Armory,” Horse said to Ruger.

“Like yours used to be?” Ruger asked.

“I don’t remember that,” Horse replied, his expression innocent.

“Just be glad you have Marie around. Otherwise you’d be livin’ this way, too.”

“I was never gross like this.”

“It’s not that bad,” I said, smiling at Ruger, my earlier frustration forgotten. I honestly couldn’t believe how gorgeous his place was. I had no idea what the basement looked like, but it could be a spider hole and I’d still be thrilled, just for the location. Not to mention the yard for Noah. “But how did you get a house like this? I mean, it had to cost a fortune. How much land do you have?”

“Fifteen acres,” he said, a shadow crossing his face. “I bought it in March. Used my share of Mom’s estate for the down payment.”

I cocked my head, stunned. Ruger’s mother, Karen, had been disabled in a car accident a couple years before I met her. She’d been living on disability by the time I came along, pinching every penny. I’d never forget the sacrifices she made when she brought me into her home.

I’d also never forget the betrayal on her face when I moved out after sending her stepson to jail.

“What the hell? Why was she living so poor if she could afford something like this? Why did you let her?”

His expression darkened.

“They finally settled,” he said. “After all those years, fuckin’ insurance company finally offered us a settlement. Too late. It went into the estate and I used my half to buy this place.”

My breath caught.

“When?”

“Just about a year ago.”

“And Zach got the other half?” I asked, swaying. “He’s got money like this and he still stopped paying his child support?”

“Sounds like it,” Ruger replied, his voice tight. “Remember what you asked me earlier? You really surprised by anything Zach does? Mom never thought she’d leave anything but bills. Estate planning wasn’t a priority.”

“That bastard,” I whispered, stunned. “We’re starving and he’s off spending your mom’s money … She’d be so pissed.”

“Hard to argue with that,” he muttered. “Marrying his dad was
the stupidest thing she ever did, and I’ve been payin’ for it ever since. Zach’s a fuckin’ weight around my neck. Everything he touches turns to shit, and then I’m stuck haulin’ out his garbage. Again.”

I felt like he’d just punched me in the stomach.

“Is that how you feel about me and Noah?”

RUGER

Fuck.

He couldn’t believe he’d said that. At least Noah hadn’t heard it.

Sophie, though … Jesus.

“I’m gonna start unloading the car,” Horse said. Coward.

“No, I don’t feel that way, Sophie. Believe me,” Ruger said, and he meant it. “You’re the only fuckin’ thing he ever did that’s worth a damn. I’m crazy about Noah, you know that. And we don’t always get along, but you’re important to him and that makes you pretty fuckin’ important to me.”

She offered him a quavering smile, and to his horror he saw the glint of tears in her eyes. Not good. Ruger could handle Sophie pissed off, but crying?

No. Fuck no.

“Let me show you your place,” he said quickly. “Downstairs. You got your own French doors down there, private entrance. It’s pretty. You can use the front door, too, if you like.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. Ruger walked across the kitchen to the basement door. He opened it, leaning in to turn on the light, holding it open for Sophie. He followed her down the steps, feeling like a dick. Then he felt like a bigger dick, because instead of thinking about ways to make things better, he checked out her rather fine ass.

Damn woman had been driving him crazy all day.

Her tits practically jumped out of that tank of hers, and the cutoffs had to be ten years old, the fabric was so worn and thin. They were tight, too, which matched his theory about their age. Sophie wasn’t fat, but she’d put on some weight since high school. In fact, she’d filled out far too nicely for his comfort. Having her in the house would be a living hell. Hell already. He couldn’t see her legs without imagining them wrapped around his waist. When she’d propped them up on the dash earlier, he’d almost crashed the goddamned car.

He thought about that morning, on the couch in her apartment. His cock grew bigger with the memory, and he hoped to hell she wouldn’t notice, because he’d been right about one thing. Sophie really could be a stuck-up bitch, and he didn’t doubt for a minute she’d use his attraction against him. She might want to fuck him—and he knew she did, she’d been as into it as he had—but that didn’t mean she thought he was good enough for her.

Fuck, she was probably right about that one.

Screwing her would kick ass. But after that? Things would get weird. Ruger wasn’t interested in settling down with any woman, but if he ever did, she’d be different from Sophie. She’d fit in with the club, for one thing. She’d be the kind of girl who knew how to crack a beer at the end of a long day, kick back, and then give him a blow job before bed. She’d love riding on the back of his bike, she’d be blonde, and she’d be tough enough to hold her own in a fight.

Most important, she wouldn’t fucking talk back to him. Sophie had a hell of a mouth.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Sophie said, stopping him dead at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at her to find all traces of wistful sorrow gone. Instead she smiled big at him, clearly thrilled with something or other. Damn, woman’s moods changed so fucking fast, a man couldn’t even begin to keep up. “I can’t believe this. How did you get everything ready so quickly?”

He blinked, then looked around, shocked.

What the fuck?

When he’d left that morning, the place had been clean-ish. Not because he’d cleaned it, of course, but because one of the girls from the clubhouse had a few weeks ago for some reason. Trying to hook him for her old man, probably. He’d fucked her and kicked her out, because he’d be damned if he’d let one of those bitches get their claws into him.

It wasn’t sort of clean now, though. It fucking sparkled.

This was supposed to be a family room, with a small kitchen built into the back for reasons he’d never bothered to consider. There was a short hallway to the side, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a utility room. He used one of the bedrooms for storage, the other as a place for his friends to crash. Never once had it looked or felt like a home.

Someone had come in and fixed all that.

Softy, fuzzy-looking blankets were draped across the couches, and a spiral rag rug full of bright colors covered the center of the beige carpet. There were fresh flowers on the coffee table, right in front of the wall of glass looking out over the valley. French doors opened onto the little patio under the ground-floor deck. Two loungers covered in big, soft pillows sat ready and waiting for use outside, framed on either side by cascading hanging baskets.

They hadn’t been there that morning.

There were even more fresh flowers on the pretty blue-checked cloth covering the round table near the kitchen. A goddamn mystery table, because he had no fucking clue where it came from. Even the windows looked different. He studied them, then realized they had new blinds and long, gauzy curtains.

Then he saw the TV. A flat-screen sat on what looked like an old-fashioned wooden radio, which he had to admit was kind of cool and different. Not a huge TV, but plenty big for the space. Sophie darted down the hallway, sadness forgotten. He understood her sudden happiness, because right now the basement looked a lot more comfortable and welcoming than his space upstairs.

“Ruger, I can’t believe this!” she said called from one of the rooms. He walked in to find a child’s bed, dresser, and bookshelf set up and ready to go, complete with a motorcycle-covered blanket and pillowcase. The walls had been painted light blue and little pictures that matched the blanket edged the ceiling. One wall had a big, black square painted on it, with the words “Noah’s Room” written on it in chalk. “Noah is going to love this. Thank you so much!”

Sophie launched herself at him. Ruger wrapped his arms around her automatically, confused as hell. Shit, she felt good. His dick jumped to full-on attention and he sniffed her hair, wondering what it’d feel like wrapped around his fingers while she sucked him off.

Sophie stiffened, obviously feeling his hard cock, and tried to pull away. He slid his hands down to her ass, holding her tight as he studied her face. Her tits pressed tight against his chest and he felt her nipples harden. She wanted this as bad as he did. Fuck, her lips were big and soft and pink.

He wanted to bite them.

“Mom!” Noah called. “Mom, where are you? I can’t believe this, there’s a stream and a little pool to play in. Ruger’s got four-wheelers, too. Horse says they’ll take us on a ride sometime!”

Ruger jerked away from Sophie.

“We can’t do this,” she whispered, eyes wide. “This is breaking the rules.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, which was a goddamn shame. For four years they’d played this game, pretending the other didn’t exist. It’d been the right thing to do. Sometimes they’d played it so well he almost believed it. That’s what his nephew needed from them, not some sort of bullshit one-night stand ruining things.

Ruger could get laid anytime—Noah only had one mom.

The kid ran in and stopped, eyes wide as he took everything in.

“Is this my room?” he asked.

“Um, yeah,” Ruger said. “Looks like it. What do you think?”

“Cool!” Noah said. “I’ve never had a room like this. Mom, you gotta see the yard!”

He tore off again. Then Horse stuck his head in, offering Ruger a shit-eating grin.

“Nice, ain’t it?”

“We should talk,” Ruger said to him, jerking his chin toward the living room. Sophie took the opportunity to dart through the door and investigate the second bedroom.

Horse nodded, and Ruger followed him out.

“What the fuck happened here?” Ruger asked, keeping his voice low.

“What do you think?” Horse said. “Marie. She and the girls came over to fix the place up. All of ’em. I asked her to.”

“Why the hell did you do that?”

“You want your baby mama and kid to feel good about stayin’ here, right?” he asked. “Maybe feel safe and welcome? Chicks need that. Figured it would make life easier. Not only that—made the girls happy to do it.”

“A heads-up would’ve been appreciated.”

“You were too busy pretending you don’t wanna fuck Sophie,” he replied, shrugging. “Someone needed to step in. Marie charged
everything, by the way. I told her to leave the receipts for you upstairs, on the counter. You can give me a check now or I’ll catch you later.”

Ruger froze.

“Fuck, didn’t think of that,” he said, looking around again, appraising things with new eyes. How much did TVs cost, anyway? He glanced back at Horse, whose shit-eating grin had grown to full-on mockery.

Oh, crap …

“You did this on purpose,” he said. “You did it just to fuck with me, didn’t you? Like you give a flyin’ fuck about welcoming Sophie. You know I can’t take it back now. How much did Marie spend, asshole?”

“I told her to keep it under three grand,” Horse replied innocently. “And I think she got most of the furniture used. You know Marie, never spends money unless she has to. Hell, you don’t even have to pay her back, it’s not like you told her to do it. I’ll cover the bill if you won’t. Not every man provides for his family—takes all kinds. I get that …”

“You’re a cocksucking bastard,” Ruger said, advancing on him. Horse laughed.

“You’re a cocksucking bastard,” Noah repeated like a damned parrot. Ruger turned to find the kid standing in the open patio door, looking proud as hell.

“Oh my god,” he heard Sophie gasp. He spun around to find her bracing a hand against the wall at the entrance of the hallway. Fuckin’ perfect, because they really needed more to fight about, right? “Ruger, you can’t say things like that around Noah.”

“Gonna have to work on that mouth of yours, brother,” Horse told him. “Don’t wanna make Sophie mad. Like I said earlier, pretty sure she could take you in a fair fight. I’d pay to see it, too.”

“Get out,” Ruger said to him, jerking his head toward the stairs. “Just get the fuck out. Go home before I shoot you.”

Sophie opened her mouth. Ruger turned and stopped her with one look.
Enough.

“This is my house,” he said. “I’ll talk however the fuck I want, and you’ll keep your goddamned mouth shut. Got me?”

She gaped as he turned and stomped back up the stairs. Behind him, he heard Noah chanting, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

He needed a beer.

Make that a shot.

SOPHIE

Noah glared at me like an angry leprechaun. He sat in time out on our couch, thanks to repeated use of his new favorite word.

I popped a beer and raised it in a silent toast to the women who’d come to clean, decorate, and fix us food. I’d been serious when I told Ruger I didn’t want to spend time with the club, but what they’d done for me was enough to make me reconsider.

At the very least, I’d need to make an appearance to say thanks. They even left me a card and a long welcome letter full of important information, everything from their cell-phone numbers to the address of Noah’s new school.

This was particularly important, because school would be starting on Monday, a full week earlier than back in Seattle. In addition to stocking the basics, they’d left me a pan of taco meat and all the fixings, ready to heat and serve. Thank God for that, because there was no way in hell I was going upstairs in search of food.

In fact, I had no intention of going upstairs at all, not without an invitation. I’d use the patio door. Safer that way. Not that I was still mad at Ruger—this was so much better than our old place that not even I could hold a grudge at this point. Nope, by then I was more scared of him, because the rules kept changing and I wasn’t sure where we stood.

Drinking one of the beers helpfully stocked in my fridge helped me relax a little.

Most of our stuff was still out in the car. Ruger and Horse had done the heavy lifting at my old place, but I could handle unloading by myself. Not like we owned much anyway. I figured I could start hauling things down tomorrow, feeling pleased that I’d had Noah pack jammies for the road. No pressure to find his clothes tonight.

The one thing I would
not
be doing was asking Ruger for help.

Things were weird enough already.

I heated the tacos and grabbed a couple of plates (the kitchen was fully stocked—just Corelle, nothing fancy, but it looked new to me).

“You ready to make good choices?” I asked Noah.

He glowered at me and crossed his arms.

“Okay, I’m going to eat,” I told him. I filled my plate, grabbed a second beer, and walked over to the doors, opening them wide and stepping out to one of the loungers. I sat down with crossed legs, setting my plate on the pillow in front of me. Then I took a bite.

Holy shit, that tasted good after a long day.

“This is really yummy!” I called to Noah. “It’s your favorite. Lots of cheese and no tomatoes. Too bad you aren’t hungry.”

Noah didn’t respond, but I heard the scrape of a chair on the deck overhead. I looked up to see the shadow of someone above, through the cracks in the decking. I waited for Ruger to say something. He didn’t.

Okay.

I finished one taco and considered the second. Noah would be impossible if he didn’t eat, but I couldn’t let him get away with defying me like that, either. Time for the big guns.

“Noah, you sure you don’t want a taco?” I called. “I’m halfway done, and when I finish I’m putting the food away. Nothing but plain bread after that if you get hungry. Not only that, they left pie and ice cream.”

Silence.

Then the chair above scraped again, and I heard footsteps as Ruger walked across the deck. Great. I hoped my yelling wasn’t pissing him off even more. I couldn’t get that garbage comment out of my head. I polished off my beer, bracing myself for battle on two fronts.

“What kind of pie?” Noah asked.

“Looked like berries to me,” I replied. “I’m going to warm mine up before I put the ice cream on.”

“I’m ready to say I’m sorry,” he replied. I allowed myself just a few seconds to gloat before I walked back inside, face stern.

“So?” I asked him.

“I’m sorry,” Noah said. “I’ll make better choices next time. Can I make my own taco?”

“You can’t use bad words like that,” I told him seriously. “You say that at school, you’ll get in really big trouble.”