Devil’s Game (Reapers MC #3)(54)
Author: Joanna Wylde

I lost the thought as my load exploded, blowing the world apart. Holy shit, I needed that.

Wait. Those weren’t dream lips on my cock.

Adrenaline hit and my eyes opened.

“The f**k?” I demanded, looking down to find one of the carpet munchers from last night slowly licking my come off her lips. I jackknifed up and backhanded her, knocking her off the bed with a crash.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Fucking cunt!”

She clutched her cheek and looked up at me, eyes filling with tears.

“You didn’t like it?” she whispered, looking confused. Her pupils were tiny, tiny pinpricks and I saw tracks on her arm. I was lucky she’d sucked me off instead of stealing my wallet or stabbing me. Wait. No. Stealing the wallet would definitely be better . . .

I pulled that shit on a girl, they’d call me a f**kin’ rapist.

Goddamned junkie.

“I’m supposed to like some random stranger sneaking into my room and putting her mouth on my dick without asking?” I demanded. “You don’t f**king touch me without permission, bitch. Some guy did that to you, you’d be screaming rape. Christ.”

I swung my legs out of the bed. She fell backward, scuttling away from me like a crab. I rubbed a hand through my hair, trying to focus.

Shit, but Em had me all twisted up and making stupid mistakes. Men like me don’t sleep with the door unlocked. I didn’t normally sleep heavy, either—breaking into my room was an invitation to meet my gun, no apologies.

Yet this junkie not only got in, she invaded my dream about Em.

Fuck.

The bitch pushed to her feet and darted out of the room, which was a damned good thing. If I had to look at her again, I’d throw her through a f**king wall.

Then it hit me.

Since when did a surprise blow job piss me off?

My phone dinged somewhere in the covers. I dug through them, trying to find it. Was it even morning yet?

I found it and saw the time—six a.m. I’d been asleep for two whole hours before Princess Sucky Fucky came in to kiss me awake. I checked my messages, wondering who the hell would be texting me this early. Hell. Burke. His words were short and sweet.

BURKE: We have a situation. Call me

Wasn’t that just perfect—exactly what I needed to start my day. But there was a message from Em, too. Sent while I was downstairs drinking beer and watching  p**n  with Clutch.

EM: Hey—thinking of you. Hope everything is okay. I’m sorry you had to go. Also sorry I had to finish by myself . . .

And there went my dick again—so much for the morning head. I pulled on my pants and took a quick piss across the hall. Then I dug out a burner phone and called Burke.

“What’s up?” I asked him, hoping to hell it wasn’t war with the Reapers. “This about Toke? Was that us?”

“Nope,” Burke said. “That’s a mystery hit. I wish we had that kind of pull up there. Not that I was upset to get the news . . . But we got a bigger problem. Someone took a couple potshots at Mason last night, at his old lady’s house.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. This was serious. “He okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Burke said. “But it’s the tipping point—he’s done. Says he’s held on as long as he can, but that he wants to die with his family, not in the middle of a war.”

“Shit.” Mason stepping down meant that Burke—as VP—would take over as national president. But not an elected president. Throw in the fact that the club was divided about the Reaper truce and what direction we should be moving . . .

“I wonder if it’s an inside job,” I mused. “Puts you in a tough spot. Things are already weird with the Toke situation, Reapers are trigger happy. Now you have to take over right as we’re lookin’ at a war. No vote means you’re weak.”

“Could be,” Burke said. “Hate to think of one of our own doing this. Unfortunately, some of our brothers aren’t worth much these days.”

“Yup,” I said. Damn club was falling apart around our ears. “Of course, it could be the cartel.”

“Or the Reapers.”

Silence fell for a minute.

“Drake will step up as VP,” Burke said. “That means I’ll need a sergeant at arms. I know we wanted to wait for elections, but consider this your call, son. I’ll need you in Salem tomorrow. Officers are gathering, we’ll put you in place then.”

I felt myself sway.

I’d been waiting for this a hell of a long time . . . but shit. Things were so up in the air with Em right now, on top of everything else.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “And after that?”

“You’re with me,” he said. “We’ll keep Skid and the boys in Portland for now. I still want a presence there, even more important now. Pack your shit, we’ll be traveling light. I figure the next few weeks’ll get interesting. Bring Skid with you when you come down, got me?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to wrap my head around it. I hung up the burner and sighed, flopping back down on my bed. I needed more sleep. Sleep, and then I’d figure out what the hell I was doing.

I didn’t text Em back.

No idea what I’d say to her anyway.

EM

Water hit me in the face.

I screamed, falling out of bed to find my witch of a sister standing over me, laughing her ass off.

Note to self: Tell Cookie to never let Kit in the house again.

“You’re a bitch,” I muttered, wiping off my face with the sheet.

“True,” she said thoughtfully. “But I’m the bitch who’s here to take you shopping. I need a new purse.”

“They don’t have stores in Olympia?”

“They have stores,” she said. “But they don’t have my sister. I’m so excited to have you close—it’s like we’re back in high school again!”

“You were a bitch then, too.”

She picked up my phone.

“Oohhh,” she said. “What happened last night? I see a long phone call to Hunter and then a text saying you finished alone? You want to tell me what that’s all about?”

I climbed out of bed and pulled off my cami, flinging it at her. It landed on her head and dripped water into her hair, but she didn’t even seem to notice.

“We talked for a while,” I said. “Then he had to go. What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” she said absently. “So you can’t really blame me for throwing water on you. How else would I wake you up?”