Page 60 of Reaper's Claim

I rose and slowly turned around to face him. “What did you say?”

Drake’s face was awash with confidence. “I said you must feel real guilty for making him turn in his President patch.”

For once, Drake was actually talking about something that I knew nothing about. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” No way would Reaper hand that over. I had thought he lost it because of something he had done. Like he had been replaced or something.

“You see Abby, my brother doesn’t hold his tongue after he has had too many,” Drake explained. “So I may have used this to my advantage to get my answers.”

“So you got him drunk.”

“Yep.”

“And he told you what?”

“All about your little hotel fling, and how he was so hung up on you that he left to sort shit with the clubs. Apparently, from what I could understand, he left you in the motel room while he went to get you breakfast. Came back and you were gone. Didn’t think much of it. Handed his patch over a few days later, and then took over as your dad’s Vice President. Then shit got real messy between the two of you.” He frowned, “I think he said something about you turning into a bitch and locking him out of your life or something.”

I knew Drake was giving me very little detail, but the detail I was getting was enough to send a flood of guilt through me. “So it was my fault he ended up leaving the club.”

“No, I think that was all me. You just cost him his President patch.”

“You don’t get it. If Kade was still President, he wouldn’t have had to answer to anyone. He wouldn’t have had my father making him pick between you and the club.” Realization hit me harder by the moment. This was all my fault. No wonder he wanted nothing to do with me.

I was the walking reminder of what happened. And he’s forced to live with the person who ruined his life. I felt terrible, and the guilt mixed with anger swirled within my stomach.

“I have to find him.” I turned sharply, picking my handbag up on the way.

“Abby, wait!” Drake called out to me, and when I didn’t stop to listen, he followed. “Come on, you don’t even know where he is.”

“I’ll call him.”

“He won’t answer.”

“Well, I don’t care.” I pulled the door open and turned to look at Drake. “It is my fault your brother is all depressed and gloomy, and I’m going to fix it.”

“I didn’t say he was depressed or gloomy.” Drake pointed out. “Come on, he will be home tomorrow, tell him then.”

“No, I need to tell him now.”

“Tell him what? That you are sorry? What will it matter now? Really, Abby?” Drake was trying to reason with me. “Just talk to him in the morning. I doubt he wants to be tracked down by you tonight. Fuck, he didn’t even want me knowing where he was going.”

My body slumped and I exhaled slowly. “I just feel real bad about it.”

“And you can tell him that,” Drake grabbed my hand and pulled me back inside, closing the front door, “tomorrow, when he is back.”

“You don’t think he is going to do anything stupid, do you?”

To my surprise, a grin spread across his face. “It’s Kade; all he does is make one stupid mistake after another.”

My expression faltered. “Thanks for reassuring me.”

Drake laughed. “Don’t know why you care anyway. I thought you hated him.”

Little did Drake know. I didn’t hate Kade at all. I suppose that was the problem to begin with.

***

He didn’t come home that night or the next. In fact, three days had passed and he had still yet to show his face. Drake was acting calm and okay about it, but I had caught him calling Kade a few times, but Kade didn’t answer.

I hoped he hadn’t gotten himself into trouble. I prayed he was still breathing, but all I wanted to know was that he was ok. I didn’t even care if he was having a full-on sex marathon with a group of whores. All I cared about was that he was ok.

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