Devil’s Game (Reapers MC #3)(85)
Author: Joanna Wylde

I shivered, trying to process his words. Nothing made sense.

“Baby, can we please go upstairs?” he asked quietly. “I can see you have lots to think about, but I’m not sure I can stay upright much longer.”

I nodded, forcing myself to snap out of my fog.

“This isn’t over,” I told him. “But let’s take care of you first. I think you need the ER. If Dad won’t loan me his car, I’ll borrow Kit’s.”

“There’s an inch of ice covering the road,” he said, and I think he smiled, or at least tried to. Hard to tell under the circumstances. “We already crashed once tonight. I’ll be fine—this isn’t the first beating I’ve taken, and it’s not like they’d do much for me anyway. Tape up my ribs, maybe give me a few stitches. Painkillers. We can do all that here, although I think I’ll take a pass on the stitches. I could use a few more scars, it’ll enhance my reputation with the brothers. They’re always sayin’ I’m too pretty.”

This time I knew he was smiling.

“You’re insane,” I said, shaking my head. “What if you have a head injury or something?”

He sobered.

“It’s not worth the risk to go back out, babe. There was at least one shooter we didn’t find tonight.”

I froze.

“Horse said we didn’t need to worry anymore.”

“Well, that was probably before we had all the details,” Hunter said, sighing. “Thought it was one guy at first. I’m sure they’ll gather everyone tomorrow and fill them in on what they need to know. I’ll even bet the second guy disappears after this—they weren’t after us in particular, just trying to stir up shit between the clubs. But we have proof now that the cartel was behind this attack, which should be enough to convince the Reapers and the Jacks that we have to work together. Tonight backfired on them in a big way.”

“Damn,” I whispered. “I guess that’s something. But I get your point. Between the ice and the cartel, I guess staying put is smarter. I suppose we should go upstairs?”

“What a great idea. Wish I’d thought of that,” he murmured, although I thought I caught a hint of humor in his eyes. Maybe. Like I said, hard to tell with all the swelling. I took his arm and led him carefully across the room, through the fire door, and into the main stairwell.

“You want to wait for my dad to give you a hand?” I asked, considering the climb ahead of us. I could steady him, but that was about it.

“No,” Hunter said, his voice wry. “I’d just as soon not get any more help from your father. I’ve had about as much as I can handle.”

• • •

An hour later I crept downstairs. Hunter was out and I doubted anything short of the zombie apocalypse would wake him up. I knew I’d find Dad in the Armory office. He had a couch in there, and with so many people sleeping over, he wouldn’t take up a bed some kid could be using.

I knocked on the door softly, not wanting to wake up whoever else might be camped out nearby.

“Give me a minute,” Dad said, and I heard him moving around. Then the door opened and he looked down at me.

I didn’t smile.

“I need to talk to you.”

He sighed. “Come on in.”

I pushed through as he turned on a lamp, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it. He sat back on the couch. We stared at each other for long seconds.

“I really miss your mom,” he said finally. “She knew how to handle you girls. I never figured it out.”

The words caught me off guard and I felt the sudden prickle of tears. I shoved them back ruthlessly.

“This isn’t about Mom. It’s about us.”

“What happened between me and Hunter is none of your business. You know that. It’s not your problem and you shouldn’t be worrying about it.”

I shook my head slowly, wondering if he’d ever get it.

“No, Dad. It’s definitely my problem when the man I love gets beaten half to death because my father hates the idea of me growing up.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but I held up a hand, cutting him off. His eyes widened.

“I understand club business,” I continued. “I get that you’re the president and we all have to do what you say. I’ve never disrespected you in front of your brothers. But this isn’t about the club, it’s about our family and you need to listen up, because I am not f**king around right now. If you ever touch my man again, you’re dead to me. Dead. I won’t talk to you, I won’t look at you, and I sure as shit won’t let you see any grandchildren down the road. We clear?”

He sighed again.

“We’re clear.”

I turned to leave, but he stood up and caught me, tugging me into a hug. I held out for a second, then let the familiar sense of safety and belonging I felt in his arms surround me.

“I’ll always be your father,” he said quietly, resting his chin on my head. “Me and Hunter, we worked things out. He understands me and I think I’m startin’ to understand him. But no matter how much you love him or where you end up, you’ll never stop being my little girl. I love you, Em.”

This time I let the tears come.

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

A moment later I pulled away and looked up, studying his face.

“I need to get back to Hunter now.”

He nodded at me, running a hand through his hair, looking almost wistful.

“I know, baby. Go take care of him.”

• • •

Thanksgiving morning dawned bright and sunny.

I woke up and crawled out of bed carefully, trying not to jostle Hunter too much.

Walking over to the window, I peered out to find everything covered in a thick layer of ice. And I mean everything. Cars, evergreens, the power lines. Yikes. Those cables looked about ready to collapse. As far as I could see, ice caught the sunlight and reflected it like millions of tiny prisms. Almost like we’d gone to bed on earth and woken up in a fairy tale.

Of course, there was one big downside to the whole frozen wonderland thing . . . No f**king way we’d be able to leave today, which meant Hunter and I would be stuck sharing our first holiday together with my entire Reaper family. On the bright side, only about half of them wanted him dead. Unfortunately, several of those who did would be cooking today, so I figured I should taste anything they offered him before letting him touch it.

Maybe we should just do Christmas in Portland . . .