Page 15 of Reaper & the Lioness
Memories flashed through my mind. Off-brand grape juice boxes, threadbare sheets on a cot, and stuffed animals that’d seen better days.
I ran a hand across the back of my neck in frustration. My jaw clenched at the thought of shadowing our consultant while she paraded around town, stirring up fuck all. I had better things to do with my time—a company to run, weapons deals to broker, rivals to keep in check.
It was just like Thane to delegate something like this to me. Hiring the consultant was his shitty idea, not mine, but I understood the necessity of having a club officer on site. If Eva started to head in the wrong direction, someone needed to run interference. And since Thane planned to retire within the next few years and wanted me to become president when he stepped down, he’d begun to give me more responsibility.
“Fine,” I growled, not bothering to hide my displeasure. “I’ll babysit the consultant.”
Thane chuckled at my outburst. “At least the view is good. She’s got a nice rack and wears those tight jeans. I apologize for making you suffer, brother.”
I ignored his comment. The last thing I needed was to think about how Eva filled out her blue jeans. I drained the last of my beer and slammed the glass bottle to the bartop harder than necessary. “If this goes sideways, I’m pulling the plug. Not just on whatever story she has reporters out to cover, but this entire goddamn PR circus. I’m not fucking kidding.”
Thane nodded, his expression serious. “That’s why I’m sending you.” He crushed his cigarette on the clay ashtray.It was godawful, but he loved it because his nephew made it. “You’ve got the judgment to know when to step in. And you’ll know if we need to stop working with Eva entirely.”
As I left Thane’s office, the familiar burden of club leadership settled on my shoulders. He respected me like a brother, trusting me with the club’s present and future.
I knew he thought Eva’s efforts would ultimately help the club, but the truth didn’t make this assignment any less of a pain in the ass. I couldn’t shake the nagging thought that this woman would cause more trouble than she was worth. But the club came first, always. If keeping an eye on Eva was what we needed right now, then that’s what I’d do.
The rumble of my Harley announced my arrival, and I couldn’t help but grin at the flash of irritation that crossed Eva’s face as she realized it was me.
Before I could even kill the engine, she tore into me, eyes blazing.
“Absolutely not. You’re not coming in to intimidate another reporter.”
I swung off the bike. “I’m not here to intimidate. Just to make sure the right story gets told.”
I liked how the fury built in her eyes. She squared off, hands on her hips.
“That’s my job. Storytelling is my lane. Yours is … whatever you do as a VP.” She waved her hand at my bike dismissively.
I opened my mouth to retort, but Maisie’s van pulled up, defusing some of the tension. She stepped out, wearing her cut for the news crew, and opened the back door to reveal boxes of fresh pastries and two large disposable jugs of hot coffee fromthe grounds she roasted at her bakery. I wrapped an arm around her in a hug.
“I promise not to intimidate anyone. I’ll carry these in and stay at the back of the room.” I smirked as her eyes narrowed at me. Maybe she did have more bite than bark.
“Fine,” Eva growled. “But if at any fucking point I notice someone is uncomfortable with your presence, you leave. This isn’t about you or your little club. These women have been through hell, and I will not let an eight-foot-tall ogre intimidate them.”
Maisie laughed as she patted my arm. “Come on, dear,” she said, handing Eva a coffee jug. “Let the ogre do the heavy lifting. We might as well take advantage of him.”
I raised a brow. “Yes. Please, take advantage of me.”
Eva blushed and then huffed, mumbling under her breath and walking away without a second glance.
The familiar scent of industrial cleaner, thrifted clothing, and desperation cut through me like a set of throwing knives as I carried the boxes into the shelter. I sucked in a shallow breath. This place stirred up memories I’d fought for years to bury. I sighed as I set the boxes on the table, trying to steady the emotion that threatened to rise.
I scanned the room, taking in the worn furniture and scattered toys. I shifted my weight from foot to foot and clenched my fists. Maisie gave me a knowing glance as if she sensed the turmoil rolling in my gut. She probably remembered what she’d seen the day Don had called the club to come to my mother’s rescue.
A few women cast wary glances at me, but most ignored my presence. I could sense the suffocating weight of their stories mixing with my own dark history.
“Text me if you need anything else. I’ll wait with my bike.” My voice came out rough and too loud in the quiet room. I didn’twait for a reply. I stepped outside and let the door thud shut behind me.
Leaning against my bike, I tried to shake off the ghosts of my past. Mom, Linc, and I spent time in a shelter just like this. It might have even been this one. I couldn’t recall.
Linc, young and resilient, adapted quickly. But I was old enough to recognize the haunted look in Mom’s eyes. I could still hear the tremor in her voice as she spoke to the crisis counselor when she thought we slept. The snapshot of her bruised and battered face flashed before me, and I clenched my jaw, willing the images away.
That was a lifetime ago. She was safe now.
Desperate for a distraction, I pulled out my phone to skim through emails. The potential contract for Conroe’s new charter school loomed in my mind. It would be a game-changer for my construction company—new hires, including a project manager, and a chance to make Grimm Construction a bigger fish in the Greater Houston market.
If the boycott didn’t threaten my chance at winning the bid.
