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The phone ringing draws my attention, and I glance at where Athena dropped her bag. I stalk over to it, pick it up, open the purse, and pull the phone out. I take note of the name on the screen. ‘Reap’ was calling.
Who the hell is Reap?
Sliding my thumb across the screen, I answer, “Hello?”
Silence fills the other line for a brief pause and I meet Prez’s gaze while the others start moving.
“Who’s this?” Reap demands.
“How about you answering that first?” I growl, already not liking any of this. Something about Athena’s attempted kidnapping doesn’t sit well with me, and I want to know why.
“How about since you answered my sister’s phone, you tell me who the fuck you are,” Reap snarls through the line, surprising me with his statement.
“Your sister? Thea doesn’t have family.” I know this because I remember her telling me she was an only child.
“Considering you called her Thea, I know you’re Brass, and you better tell me where the fuck she is before I hunt you down myself and gut you where you stand.”
Interesting.
This fucker knows me and knows me as Brass, so that means he knows about the club.
“Since you know who I am, how about you stop bullshittin’ and tell me who the fuck you are, Reap.”
There’s another tense pause through the line, and then he answers, “Is Athena okay?”
“She will be” is all I say, meeting Twister’s gaze in a silent question.
But before I can say anything further, Reap beats me to the punch.
“Let me guess, something happened. It’s why you answered her phone, and you’re probably taking her to the clubhouse. Since this is the most probable scenario, I’ll meet you there.”
He hangs up, and I pull the phone from my ear. I stare down at the device like it just burned my ear.
What the ever-loving fuck is going on here?
Who is this Reap fucker? And what the hell has Athena gotten herself involved in?
“Who was that?” Twister asks as I step toward him.
“Says he’s Athena’s brother,” I grind out and take a heavy breath, unsure what to make of all this shit. “Also said he’ll be meeting us at the clubhouse.”
“Motherfucker,” Twister grumbles and shakes his head. “Let’s get there before he does then. I don’t know who the hell he is, but this whole thing doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I grunt. I shove Athena’s phone in my pocket, gather the rest of her shit together, and head for my bike. “I’ll get a prospect to come get her car later.”
“Have them take a look at it before they move it.”
I nod in total agreement with my Prez. Considering everything this club has been through in the past years, I have to give it to him, he knows how to handle this type of shit. His ol’ lady had troubles of her own, and I don’t think he ever truly got over it. Instead, it made him more cautious.
* * *
I barely get off the back of my bike before a Ducati Streetfighter 848 whips in through the closing gates.
“Who the fuck is that?” Horse demands. He was waiting for Twister and me when we got here, though we weren’t far behind him and the others.
“My guess, Athena’s supposed brother,” I answer, watching as the man pulls to a stop, puts the kickstand down, and removes his helmet. From the distance I can’t get a look at him, but as he gets off the bike, and moves toward us, I swear he looks like the damn Grim Reaper with the tattoos on his face. The dude is like a walking skeleton.
“What are you doing here, Reaper?” Horse asks, shocking me.
