Page 22 of Reaper & the Lioness
The silence after the firefight was broken only by our heavy breathing and the ticking of our cooling engines.
Thane’s hard expression surveyed the scene. “We need to move. Now. This stretch is empty, but we can’t count on it staying that way.”
I flexed my injured arm, wincing at the sharp pain. “What about the bodies?”
I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out a spare T-shirt. The fabric tore easily as I fashioned a makeshift bandage.
Thane shook his head. “No time. Right now, we need to get clear. The highway patrol won’t lose sleep investigating this.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over Merrick and me. “We need to call everyone in for Church. Figure out our next move. I’ll text Rodriguez to ask him to give us a heads up if PD points to us for this.”
The ride to the clubhouse was tense. Every passing car and distant siren sent a fresh wave of unease through us. The adrenaline from the firefight wore off, replaced by gnawing anxiety and the burning pain in my arm.
The familiar sight of our brothers lounging outside the clubhouse did little to ease the knot in my stomach. Thane dismounted and barked orders to gather everyone for Church in thirty minutes.
I followed him into the clubhouse. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain. It wasn’t my first gunshot wound, and it certainly wouldn’t be my last.
Leah spotted me as she wiped down the counter. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the first aid kit from under the bar.
“Jesus, Reaper. Again?”
I grunted a response as she grabbed my arm to examine the cratered hole through my bicep. Club bartender and unofficial medic. She’d patched us up more times than I could count, and while her bedside manner left a lot to be desired, she was steady as hell.
Leah grabbed a bottle of Everclear and poured it straight onto the wound. The liquid burned like fire, and I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Stop your bitching,” Leah barked as she tore open sterile gauze. “I’ve seen worse. You got lucky. Again.”
She wrapped my arm tight with gauze and elastic bandages, tying it off with an aggressive knot.
“Bleed on my floor and I’ll put another bullet through you,” she said, eyes locked hard on mine. No coddling, no sugarcoating. It’s why she fit in with the Mavericks.
The news spread, and soon the clubhouse hummed. Cigarette smoke and tension filled the air as Thane recounted the highway ambush.
He calmly lit a smoke as he gazed around the room. “This changes everything. The Rangers have made their move. Now it’s our turn.”
Hatchet leaned forward with a roguish grin. “I have an idea. We’ve got that shipment coming in on Sunday. What if we use it as bait? Let those cocksuckers think they’re gonna hit the motherlode. But we’ll be waiting for them.”
“It’s risky,” Thane mused. “But if we pull it off …”
“We’ll mow them the fuck down,” I finished. “Even if their president isn’t there, it’ll send a message.”
Merrick glanced between Thane and me. His fingers drummed restlessly on the oak table. “We’ve got one shot at this and not a lot of time to make it happen.”
Thane’s voice cut through the chatter. “You’ve got that right. Failure’s not an option. Let’s work it out now.”
Chapter Nine
Islung my camera bag over my shoulder as I walked to the Main Street Market in downtown Conroe. Shoppers strolled through the farmers’ and artisan market, perusing homemade candles, jewelry, and crafty signs. Local farmers proudly spread fresh fruits and vegetables across the tables. I picked up a few blood oranges from a bearded man in a straw hat as I admired the colorful display of carrots, sweet potatoes, and collard greens.
Thane texted me the night before, suggesting I capture some feel-good moments for social media at Maisie’s booth. I’d talked him into launching a Lone Star Mavericks Instagram, and now we needed content.
Surprisingly, Thane had a knack for spotting good stories and even started texting me photos. I’d yet to get a selfie from him, though—I was fairly certain the gruff, chain-smoking biker didn’t even know how to flip his camera phone. Still, I appreciated the way he grasped my vision for showcasing the warm hearts beneath the cool chrome. It made my job easier.
The aroma of Maisie’s fresh-roasted coffee and cinnamon rolls wafted through the air. My stomach growled. It was an angry reminder that I’d forgotten to eat breakfast, and I knew I’d have to try one of the famous cinnamon rolls Don had bragged about.
The rumble of a familiar motorcycle sounded through the air. I watched in annoyance as Reaper parked and strolled casually to meet me.
I glared at him, still fuming from our interaction at Thane’s birthday party. “This doesn’t quite seem like your vibe.”
Reaper shrugged. “It’s not. Prez’s orders. Again.” His imposing figure, broad, leather-clad shoulders, and deep voice drew curious glances from nearby shoppers. He seemed out of place among the families and college students who frequented the market.
