Page 150 of Resurfaced Passion

“Won’t you?” Eyes narrowed, all humor gone, and he sat forward, laced his fingers and pinned Paige with the stare that brought back memories she only wished she could forget. Sounds of him threatening her when she was just a girl to be tossed on the streets for the perverts to pick over her ringing through her ears. “Fancy visiting him in jail do you? I can easily make a call.”

He was bluffing, she knew he was bluffing, if there was any proof of what Reaper had done her father would have used it for blackmail already.

“If you’ve done your research then you know what club he’s associated with.” No reaction from Sargent. “One word from me and you’d be dead.”

But fear was a great motivator and like always she wilted under his tyranny.

“What do you need?”

“Take a fucking seat and catch up with your old dad.”

It wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

Chances were, Paige would hate herself very soon.

Just as fear was a motivator. So was love. And there was nothing she wouldn’t do to safeguard the man who waited for her.

She delivered her first package two hours into her shift, using a family emergency as her excuse to leave. Reaper never knew, because she was there waiting for him later that night as though nothing had devastated her that day.

The same went for the next four nights.

And the two after that.

Being a drug messenger was in her blood.

And Paige had been right; she did hate herself.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“Always the bride…never cherished.” - Penelope

Just outside Colorado, the Diablo Disciples operation was situated in a small town of just over three thousand full time residents with a few hundred added in peak fishing season.

To say the Prez, Axel Tucker, was in a piss poor mood that day was an under-fucking-statement. He was fit to kill and would do just that if every fucking person didn’t stop bringing problems to his office.

It was enough that the ATF were still over his club like stink on shit. In total, ten of his men were still behind bars doing time on trumped up charges. Okay, not so much trumped up as incaught red handed. That pimped-out asshole Malachai Hunt was out to get them whichever way he could, be it legal or otherwise to earn his goddamn cop place in heaven or whatever it was that made cops balls so damn big.

He hated that guy and wanted to put a bullet in his head so damn badly but even Axel knew not to kill a fucking cop without the plan being full proof first.

He hated him more because it was proving hard to bribe him.

The overachiever had to go if he couldn’t be bought, and Axel didn’t care if it was over a bridge in his fancy cage or he was found swinging from the rafters.

Every month it was something else, some new charge interfering with his business and if he wasn’t careful one day he’d turn around and there would be no MC to go back to. As of now, his firearms and booze imports were on hold indefinitely, losing him goddamn thousands daily and just today he got word some new bastard was undercutting his cocaine supply by a big-fucking-lot.

One of his guys followed a chick last night back to Armado Springs and seeing as how Rider Marinos didn’t allow snow dealers on his turf, Axel knew it was an outside pusher working for someone who wasn’t Axel’s own supplier.

Not to mention his baby-girl, his pride and fucking joy, the reason Axel breathed, was riding his last fucking nerve for how far she pushed back against her boundaries. Roux had afuck itattitude going for the last however long. His own fault seeing as how he spoiled her rotten ever since her mama up and left them both when she was a kid. He supposed some was partly his fault, what with having a kid when he was only seventeen and not having the first clue how to raise her.

But she continued to ignore how much danger she was putting herself in and he was about to book her a one-way ticket to a convent, she could scream and cry all she wanted, he was putting his foot down with her. No more daddy’s girl who could get away with murder.

“Hey, Prez. You gotta see what just ran through the doors.” His VP hooted from the doorway, excitement in his jerky motions.

Axel sighed, dragged his tattooed fingers through his long hair and shelved any idea to talk to Roux for a second to deal with whatever crap-hurricane it was now.

He shadowed Chains through his clubhouse and overheard the commotion coming from the main room almost instantly. His boys hooting, hollering and cheering in a circle just like the baying bastards they were.

What in the hell were they up to now?

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