Page 21 of Reaper & the Lioness
Reaper’s scowl deepened. “You know what? Do whatever you want.” He turned and stalked away.
What the fuck? Part of me wanted to chase after him to demand an explanation for his bewildering behavior. However, another part—my more rational side—understood that confronting him in the middle of the party would only lead to more tension.
Instead, I scanned the crowd for Tyler, hoping to pick up where we left off. But every time I tried to approach him, he vanished into the throng of partiers.
My mood soured. It was time to leave, but I was too buzzed to drive myself. I fumbled with my phone, squinting at the screen as I pulled up the rideshare app. As I waited for a driver to accept my request, Rhetta appeared at my side.
“Heading out already, sugar?”
I nodded in exhaustion. “Yeah, I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night. My Uber will be here in a minute. I’ll get a ride back in the morning to pick up my Jeep.”
“Nah, we can take care of that.” She held out her palm. “Give me your keys. A prospect will drop your Jeep off in the morning.”
“Thanks,” I said, fishing the keys from my purse and dropping them into her outstretched hand.
Rhetta wrapped an arm around me in a side hug.
“Thanks for coming tonight. I hope you had fun."
I nodded, not wanting to let on that I was leaving because I couldn’t stand the club’s VP and his dominating presence.
As I walked to the end of the driveway, I could sense eyes on my back. I didn’t need to turn around to know they belonged to Reaper. The weight of his gaze followed me down the driveway.
Chapter Eight
The open highway stretched before us, asphalt cutting through the barren landscape outside Houston. Thane confidently led the pack on his Heritage Softail. Merrick and I flanked him in a tight, practiced formation on our own Harleys.
My mind wandered, replaying the scene from last night. Tyler’s gentle touch as he pushed Eva’s hair out of her face. The way her eyes lit up as she beamed at him.
The memory gnawed at me, causing a persistent ache in my chest.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice them at first.
Merrick’s sharp whistle cut through my thoughts. I glanced into the mirror before speeding up to ride beside Thane, signaling we had company. My surprise at the group of Rangers hot on our tail was why a distraction like Eva posed a danger to me and the club.
The group of three bikers rode erratically, weaving as they approached us. It wouldn’t have surprised me if they were high. Rangers often were, and that made them more unpredictable.
Before we could formulate a plan, the crack of gunfire split the air. Bullets whizzed past, uncomfortably close. One pinged off my bike’s frame.
I’d just paid off the custom paint job on this damn bike.
“Fuck!” Merrick’s curse was barely audible over the roar of the engines as he swerved his black shovelhead. He avoided a second shot by an even more narrow margin.
In one fluid motion, I reached for my Glock. The familiar weight of the weapon grounded me. Twisting in my seat, I returned fire, the recoil traveling up my arm. Thane and Merrick followed suit, our bikes weaving as we squeezed our triggers.
The Rangers’ impaired state worked to our advantage. Their shots were wild, most going wide. But they compensated for what they lacked in accuracy with a sheer volume of fire.
White-hot pain lanced through my left arm. I’d been hit. Blood seeped through my shirt, the leather of my cut growing slick and warm as it spread. I glanced down and relief washed over me as I appraised the wound. Through the blood I could see it was only a graze. I clenched my jaw. It was less about the pain and more the annoyance when I noticed the scar would cut across one of my oldest tattoos.
As we approached an overpass, Thane’s voice cut through the chaos. Using hand signals and shouts, we formulated a plan on the fly. We sped up, and our engines roared as we pulled our bikes over to the right side of the highway. The concrete barrier provided cover as Merrick laid down suppressing fire.
The Rangers slowed, confusion evident in their hesitation as they noticed our disappearance. Their moment of uncertainty gave us the opportunity we needed.
My first shot caught the lead Ranger square in the chest. He slumped forward as his bike veered before crashing into the guardrail.
The second Ranger, distracted by his fallen comrade, was thrown back by Thane’s next bullet. It caught him in the head, and he went down hard, his body rag-dolling across the asphalt.
The third tried to speed away, but I caught him in the side before he could escape. His bike careened into a road sign, and the metal shrieked as it twisted around him.
