Page 29 of Resurfaced Passion

Downing three pills, he took off the hand break and got on the road.

Keeping busy was always his best antidote.

He wasn’t sure about the animosity surrounding Mad-dog. He understood it had been ongoing for years, the guy used to be the VP and tight with his brother—who was trying to do some shit to get back in the Prez seat, no matter what he had to do to Rider to get it. Ajax looked just like a regular old guy. Reaper jumped down out of the cab and knocked on the back door of his house.

From inside he could hear excited baby squeals.

“Rider sent me for your truck. Do you have the keys?”

“Sure, son.” He fished into his denim pocket and handed over a set of keys. He looked put out that maybe he thought Rider would come by himself. “That boy of mine busy?”

“Yeah,” Reaper replied. Then thought to add. “He always is.”

Mad-dog nodded and turned his head towards the ruckus inside and smiled. “I better go back in, son. My granddaughter likes to charge around the house in a fuckin’ walker-thing and Annie has all this expensive shit on tables.”

The pair parted and it was full steam ahead for Reaper with his duties once he’d dropped the truck off at the garage and climbed onto his bike.

He was well aware he’d avoided the diner and Paige for two days.

Two long-fucking-days where he craved to set eyes on her, smell her scent and recharge in her smile.

Two fucking days and he was drowning.

Would she hate him for kissing her?

Would she push him out of her life now?

He’d stormed into the bar and acted reckless, like a giant prick, totally ruining what could have been a good night for her. Paige didn’t have many of those, and he’d acted out of impulse… out of possessiveness.

She allowed him on the peripheral of her life and he didn’t know what he’d do if she cast him out.

It was all he could accept, even if he was plagued by the feel and taste of her kiss. Jesus, his cock was getting hard again. How, he didn’t know, since he’d rubbed himself raw. Adjusting the denim over his crotch, Reaper did what he always did; worked and thought about the pink haired angel.

“How do you think Tag will do? The animal is fucking big, look at his arms, Jesus, they’re like tree trunks. I wouldn’t like to mess with him in a dark alley.”

“Tag isn’t gonna fuck him,” piped Snake to Juicy, throwing chicken popcorn into his mouth one at a time like peanuts.

“Neither am I, dude, fuck that. He’d rip my cock off.” Juicy retorted with a snort. “What are his chances though?”

“Don’t underestimate our boy. He’s a goddamn insane fucker inside that cage. Just watch. It’s like Beelzebub rises in him or some shit like that.”

It was later that night, well after midnight and the main attraction in the underground fight club owned and run by the RSMC was just about to get underway. Tag was having another must-watch fight, clientele had come from all across the states, bought their way in and were now laying down their bets on who they thought would win.

Tag or the knock-off version of the WWE Big Show.

Reaper agreed; the guy was big. Broader and taller than Tag, with a status in the fight scene for doing serious damage to his opponents, some never walked again, even breaking the rules to put a guy in the morgue out west a few years back.

Reaper kept on the outskirts of the room.

It was basketball court big with a huge custom steel cage surrounded in lights for effect around the rim. A lot of blood had been shed in that cage and Reaper, though he could scrap down in the dirt with the best of them if need be, didn’t envy Tag. His club brother seemed more at home inside that ring with cracked knuckles and a smirk on his face than he did sitting around the church table.

“What you betting?” Juicy asked. The new guy liked hanging around the fights. Reaper suspected it was more to do with which fighter he could fuck than it was the love of the illegal sport.

“I don’t gamble.” Answered Reaper when Juicy waited for him to speak.

His eyes were scanning around the room. They had a lot of security, but it didn’t hurt to keep a watch. Rival clubs that the RSMC weren’t in good standing with would love to get their thieving mitts on all the profits that would roll through tonight.

“The fuck! You don’t gamble, you’re not tapping any of the club bunnies. What’d you do for fun, man, paint by number?” Snake found Juicy hilarious from his barked laugh. Reaper just pushed up his eyebrow high on his forehead. For once he was without his beanie hat and had his hair tied back in a stubbed tail at his neck.

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