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“Reaper, you son-of-a- bitch. I didn’t think you’d make the ride in time.” I step from behind my desk and cross the office. “Brother, I hope it wasn’t too much trouble getting here on such short notice.”
I take his hand in mine and pull him in for a bump of the shoulders. I wince but grind through the pain.
“Careful with the shoulder, man. It’s jacked up at the moment.”
“So I heard.
The man is my size, more ragged than the last time I saw him, and sporting something none of us Savages ever thought he’d wear. A Dirty Sinners cut.
Holy shit. I wonder if Ares knows? I scoff to myself. Probably does. Something else the fucker didn’t share. He and Reaper might go back ten years or so, but I’ve known the man for over four of those years. With him as a former military man and me a former cop we share the weight of what it means to serve others. I’ve bled for him and like I’ve said, the Dirty Sinners aren’t much different from us Savages—neither of us is clean. They did well by their town’s community and so have we. But not all they did was above board either and the Savages have done enough business with the Dirty Sinners to keep some shovels and extra bullets on hand in case of a phone call.
“Sorry to pull you away from home, man. You know I wouldn’t unless I had to.”
His eyes look tired and I know worry when I see it. Something is eating at him. I almost feel guilty for calling in for some help.
He tucks his thumbs into his front pocket and sways his substantial weight to his heels. “Don’t mention it. Brothers help brothers.”
His hometown of Haven, Tennessee isn’t exactly a short ride away so I know coming to help me out is costing him. Whatever he left behind has deep lines running the length of his forehead. I can either focus on his shit or get mine fixed and then help him. The latter seems most logical.
“Looks like you finally bit the bullet.” I level a look at his cut. “Are you finally done with the nomad life?”
A meaty shoulder cranks up. “For now, but don’t jinx me, man. The smell of new leather still clings to the cut.”
“I hear ya. You ink in yet?”
Reaper fists the ends of his black shirt and yanks the material up to reveal a skull with chains circling it with his biker gang’s name over his left pec.
“Sweet. Bet your old man is happy.”
I signal for him to take a seat. Instead of grabbing the one behind my desk, I go to the bar at the back of my office and snag a couple of shot glasses along with a fresh bottle of whiskey.
“He’s somethin’ anyway,” he says, leaving it at that and I know when not to push a man for any more information.
I hold up a bottle of a fifty-year-old Glenfiddich I’ve been nursing for a while now and he nods. I pour us both a round and take the chair opposite of him.
We hold up both tumblers. “To ignoring death until we absolutely have to answer the call.”
We pound our drinks back and damn the fine hooch leaves behind a sweet burn in its wake.
I measure out another shot’s worth for us both.
“You have the market cornered on cheating death, brother. How many lives have you pulled out of thin air now?”
He points to the sling I carried in with me but refused to put on. Limiting my movements is a bad idea.
“I’m scared to count. I do and it might let the demons hunting know I’m working on borrowed time.”
“When’re you gonna stop lettin’ people use you as target practice?”
The energy shifts in the room to a more serious vibe. I bark out a cruel laugh. “Fair point. And right now, brother. Right the hell now.”
“Whatcha need from me?”
Like I’ve told my brothers before, revenge tastes worse than acid if you think before downing it. The trick is to swallow fast and keep moving until the job is done. Before Asena came roaring back into my life with death glued to her ass, I was perfectly fine taking the high road and staying dead. It was safer that way. And so was she. As long as I knew she lived, I had no problem hanging in the shadows and doing what I could to make the world a better place for her in silence.
But now? Nah, I want blood. Not for what was done to me, but for the suffering the Druid caused Asena.
Shoot me. Kill me. That’s fine. What the fuck can I do after I’m dead, ya know? But touch her and I’ll make sure it’s the last fucking thing you do in your life.
