Page 45 of Reaper's Claim

Roach looked at me solemnly for a few moments before getting to his feet. “Is that the only reason you agreed to come here? Because of him?”

“Well, I wouldn’t come all this way to watch you have a family reunion, would I?” My tone was dripping in annoyance. “Look, ya wanted the truth, now ya got it. I came here for Drake. Blood is blood, and he called me shortly after you told me I had to come here. So it worked out well.”

His top lip curled up. “You better watch ya tone.”

“Why?” I rose to my feet, gripping the table. “You and I both know this VP shit ain’t working.”

“Not letting ya walk away, Reaper.”

“Not asking.” I shrugged the vest off. “I’ll always pick blood over the club.”

“You of all people know the club becomes blood.”

“Roach. Ya telling me I can’t help my brother? I’m telling you that where Drake is involved, the club don’t mean shit.” I stuffed the leather vest in his chest. “I guess you’ll have to find someone else to do your dirty work.”

“So that’s it, ya walking away from the brotherhood for this!?” he roared, grabbing me by the cuff of my shirt and slamming me back against the kitchen wall. “WHAT AM I GONNA TELL THE BOYS? THAT THE REAPER WALKED?”

Gripping his shoulder, I pushed him backward. He might be strong, but I’m stronger; I guess it had to do with the fact I hadn’t let my body go yet. “Tell them whatever ya like. I don’t give a fuck.”

Was I mistaken for walking away from a brotherhood that had been behind me for years? I wasn’t sure, but Drake was the only brother I had. He might screw up regularly, but he was all I had.

Abby wasn’t here, and I was thankful as fuck for that. The last thing I needed was seeing her judgmental eyes as she watched me turn my back on my club.

I slammed their front door and strode across the lawn towards my bike. Rage fired through my body at a hundred miles an hour. Kicking the bike to life, I had only one destination in mind—Drake’s house.

Looks like I’ll be crashing with my little brother for a while.

***

My blood ran hot from the run in with Roach when I pulled up in front of Drake’s house. I wasn’t in the best mood, I would admit that, but when I saw the trail of cars, the bikes, and the boozing teens on his front porch, I knew my mood was going to go downhill.

Should I have expected my brother not to be throwing a raging party on a Saturday night?

I stepped over a lightweight who had already passed out on the front lawn and headed for the house. I pushed a couple out of my way; it was their own fault anyway.Who makes out in a front doorway?

Drake had money. Family money. The house was big, old. We called it the haunted mansion growing up. He had the place to himself after Nanna passed, but by the look of it, he had made himself at home.

The bass of the music was deep, thick, and thumping. I scanned the lounge looking for Drake, then I spotted him dancing with a blonde.

Drake and his women.

I cut through the crowd and gripped his shoulder. Being my brother, it was in his blood to turn and throw a punch; I expected it and ducked.

“BROTHER!” A grin sparked across his face, and he lunged to hug me. “WHAT THE FUCK YA STILL DOING HERE?” he roared over the music.

“Gonna crash for a bit.” I gripped his shoulder and yelled it in his ear.

He frowned and noticed the missing vest. Ialwayswore a vest. He nodded his head with understanding. “My house is your house!” he yelled back.

Blood. That was what it came down to. I patted him on the back and he handed me his drink. “Enjoy the party, brother!”

He was speaking to me, but his eyes looked over my shoulder. I turned to see who had stolen his attention. In my head, the music faded, and all I heard was the increase of my own heartbeats.

Abby.

She was on the sunken level of the lounge, which was filled with people dancing, drinking. Abby was by herself, hands in the air, swaying to the beat. She looked to be high on something, but it was a sexy high.

Drake whacked me on the shoulder and mouthed “got to go” before cutting his way through the crowd of people.

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