Devil’s Game (Reapers MC #3)(35)
Author: Joanna Wylde

Oh, and Skid’s blood had run down my chin and dried there.

I thought it added a touch of class.

“Damn, you’re sexy,” I whispered, giggling. I washed up all my scrapes and found some toothpaste in a drawer. I used my finger to rub it all through my mouth, which still tasted like evil biker ankle. Ten minutes later I pulled on my ridiculous shoes and hobbled out of the house toward Sophie, holding up the phone.

“Dumbass has Google Maps installed,” I told her. “I know exactly where we are. I’m calling them to come and get us.”

“That’s good news,” she replied. “He hasn’t moved at all. Do you think he has internal injuries?”

I shrugged, because I really didn’t care. He was alive. That was good enough.

“If he does, there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll let the guys take care of him.”

I dialed Dad’s number and he answered.

“Picnic.”

“Hey, Dad? It’s me,” I said, trying to hold it together. I realized my hand was shaking. Shock, maybe? My leg felt numb.

“Oh, Emmy,” he said, his voice full of relief. “Christ, I can’t believe it’s you. Are you all right? Fuck, that prick Hunter just left. Lucky bastard.”

Yeah, wasn’t gonna touch that comment.

“We’re okay,” I said. “Could use a ride, though.”

Dad laughed, incredulous.

“You’ve been kidnapped and that’s what you have to say for yourself? Did you escape? Where are you?”

“I’ll send you the map,” I told him. “There’s just one guy here, Skid. He’s a Devil’s Jack. We managed to beat him up and now he’s handcuffed to the porch.”

“Holy shit. Proud of you, girl. Any witnesses I should know about?”

“No, it’s all good,” I told him. “But you might want to bring the van. We may need some cargo space.”

I gave him the directions and hung up. I looked up to find Sophie watching me. She looked a little shocky, I decided, and the gun trembled in her hand. I’d take over guarding Skid in a minute, but I had one more thing to do first.

“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” I told her. “They sounded pretty happy to hear from us.”

“Was Hunter with them?” she asked.

I swallowed.

“No. The meet was already over. I guess we missed him by maybe five minutes. He’s got good luck.”

Sophie raised a brow and I met her gaze head-on, challenging her to question my story. She didn’t. I stepped off the porch and dropped the phone on the ground, stomping on it with my spiky heel. The glass shattered and crunched.

“What the hell?” Sophie demanded. “Why’d you do that?”

“GPS,” I said, which wasn’t true. I just didn’t want my dad to see that I’d called Hunter. “I don’t want the Devil’s Jacks tracing us with it, and we can’t leave it here.”

“What if we need it again?”

“We won’t. Dad and Ruger will find us. Don’t worry. By this time tomorrow it’ll be like this never happened. In fact, I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to think about it. Got me?” I added pointedly.

“Got you,” she said, narrowing her eyes. I waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t. My opinion of her went up another notch. Whatever else she might not get about MC life, Sophie seemed to understand sisterhood.

Sometimes sisters need to shut their mouths and drop it.

This was definitely one of those times.

• • •

By the time Dad and the other brothers arrived, I was exhausted.

The adrenaline had faded and my entire body was sore and stiff. The little wrestling match with Skid hadn’t helped. Now I stood on the porch watching my father roll Skid’s body over with his foot. I was trying to play it cool, but all I really wanted was to crawl into his arms and sleep for a year. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore . . .

“He’s been bleeding, but not too bad,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Don’t know if he’s passed out from a head injury or from shock. Sophie kicked his nuts to hell and back.”

Dad grunted, then stepped up onto the porch, holding out his hand for the gun I still gripped. I gave it to him and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

Suddenly I felt safe again.

I looked down at the brothers filling the yard. Ruger. Horse. Duck . . . Painter. I’d never seen them looking so serious. Bam Bam, a big man who was married to my friend Dancer, studied Skid thoughtfully. My former crush stood next to him, eyes haunted. He looked different somehow. Older. It was attractive, I realized in a distant way. Huh.

“How we gonna play this?” Bam asked. I knew what he was really saying, of course. He wanted to know if they were going to get Skid medical help or put him in the ground. I braced myself and took a deep breath, knowing my work wasn’t done quite yet.

“Not in front of the girls,” Dad muttered, and I knew the answer. So far as Dad was concerned, Skid was already dead. “Ruger, you and Painter take them, get them safe. Call the medic. He can meet you at the clubhouse. We’ll clean up here.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t kill him. You do that, there’s going to be even more fighting.”

“This is about the club, Em,” my dad said quietly. Translation—Go home and be a good girl. Let the men do the thinking for you.

Suddenly I was sick of it.

I’d gotten kidnapped because of their bullshit, and I wasn’t even supposed to know why I’d nearly died. I’d gotten myself out of it, no thanks to them, and now I was expected to just nod and smile.

Fuck that.

I popped up on my toes and whispered in Dad’s ear.

“Hunter told me about the truce and the cartel. If you kill this guy, we’re all going to suffer. I know you’re pissed, Dad, but we have to think of the club. Please. Think of me and Kit—I don’t want to live in fear.”

He stiffened.

I pulled away, looking up at him, begging with my eyes. Don’t let your ego make this decision.

He shook his head, jaw rigid. Fuck. I crossed my arms and stepped back, my plea turning to a glare. How f**king typical—the king’s pride got hurt, so now we all have to go to war? If anyone gets to make the decision, it should be me and Sophie.

Dad held my eyes for long seconds, then sighed.

“Okay, we’ll take him with us and dump him somewhere he’ll be found,” he said. “See if you can find something to bandage him up with, Bam.”