Page 74 of Reaper & the Lioness
Hatchet smirked at my sarcastic tone. I reached for the first aid kit I’d added to my saddlebag after my last gunshot wound on the road.
“I don’t think it’s considered a date if you don’t even know her name,” Merrick said.
I could see the flicker of amusement in Hatchet’s eyes.
“I have a text with her address and an open invitation to show up when we get back to town.”
I rolled my eyes. Hatchet’s voice was laced with a confident swagger only he could pull off.
“And I don’t need her name. She answers just fine to ‘sweetheart.’”
Hatchet’s attempt to distract me from the pain was welcome. A small part of me appreciated his effort to shift the focus away from my wounded leg and onto his latest conquest.
I pulled out my knife and used the sharp blade to slice through the denim of my jeans. Blood oozed from the entry and exit points. I grabbed a pressure bandage, pressing it against the injury. I hissed through clenched teeth as I began wrapping gauze around the stinging wound on my thigh. The pain burned intensely, but I’d had worse.
Thane watched with a grim expression. “You’re getting too much practice at this, brother.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“How’s Eva going to react?”
“Not real fucking happily, I’m sure.” I grimaced as I swung my leg over my bike. “She had a lot of questions before I left. How much do you tell Rhetta?”
“It’s a delicate balance, man. I give her enough information so she’s not blindsided, but not so much that she’s constantly worried. Rhetta knows the risks, but I spare her the gory details.”
“And when shit like this happens?”
“I’m honest, but I downplay it. She doesn’t need to know every close call. It’s about protecting her, you know? Both from the danger and the constant fear.”
I grunted as I mulled over Thane’s approach. Walking this precarious line would prove challenging, especially with someone as sharp and inquisitive as Eva.
Thane clapped me on the shoulder. “You’ll find the right balance. It’s okay to keep some things to yourself. It’s not lying. It’s shielding her from the worst parts of our world.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Fuck. She is not going to agree with that philosophy.”
“We both know she’s tougher than she looks. She’ll be able to handle whatever you tell her.”
I sent a quick text to Doc and dry-swallowed a few Tylenol. He’d stitch me up when we got back to the clubhouse. I started the engine, wincing as the vibrations set off a ripple of pain. I dreaded the conversation to come, especially since I’d promised Eva that the Kevlar vest was only a precaution.
As we rode away from the Rangers’ clubhouse, the rumble of our bikes cutting through the night, a mixture of satisfaction and concern swirled within me. While we had neutralized the immediate threat, I considered how short-lived the peace between our clubs could be. But for now, we had secured our territory.
Houston belonged to the Mavericks, bought and paid for in blood—theirs and mine.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ijolted awake at the sound of the front door opening, my heart racing as I glanced at the clock. 3:47 a.m.
Reaper had been gone for over twelve hours, and the gnawing worry in my gut gave way to a fitful sleep sometime after 1 a.m.
I threw off the covers and opened the bedroom door just as Reaper had reached for the handle. My relief morphed into anger, concern, and frustration.
His jeans were torn and caked with dried blood, and a white bandage was visible through the rip. His face looked drawn, dark circles under his eyes speaking of exhaustion and pain.
“What the actual fuck?” I demanded. “What happened?”
“Long night. Shit went a bit sideways.”
My temper exploded. “That’s all you’re going to fucking give me?”
