Joanna Wylde - Reaper’s Legacy

“I’m proud of you, little man,” Ruger told him. I stood, planning to join them, but Ruger turned away. So he wanted some privacy. I wasn’t going to argue if it made Noah feel safe, but I still strained to hear the conversation as he carried my boy back to bed.

“You did good callin’ for help,” I heard him say faintly. “You ever get in a situation like that again, you call me. Call your mama. You can call the cops, too. You remember how to do that?”

“Nine one one,” Noah muttered, his voice sleepy and thick. A giant yawn caught him off guard and he slumped against Ruger’s shoulder. “But I’m only supposed to do that in an emergency and I wasn’t sure if I’d get in trouble.”

“A bad man touches you, that’s an emergency,” Ruger murmured. “But you did your best, you did what I said. You hid and that was real good, little man. I want you to lie down and go back to sleep, okay? In the morning I’m taking you to my house and you’ll never have to see those people or this place again. But you can’t come with me if you’re too tired.”

I caught my breath. What the hell?

I watched as he tucked Noah in, my mood far from mellow. Seconds later my kiddo was out again, clearly still exhausted. I pulled on a robe and waited for Ruger to come back, crossing my arms and bracing for battle.

He cocked a brow at me, deliberately checking me out. Was he trying to use sex to bully me? That might explain his little seduction-on-the-couch game …

“You forget the part about not pissin’ me off?”

“Why did you tell Noah he’s going to your house? You can’t make promises like that.”

“I’m taking him home to Coeur d’Alene with me,” Ruger replied, his voice matter-of-fact. He tilted his head to the side, waiting for the fight he had to know was coming. His neck was thick with muscles and his biceps flexed as he crossed his arms, matching my stance. It really wasn’t fair. A man this frustrating should be short and fat, with hairy ears or something. But it didn’t matter how sexy he was this time, I wouldn’t cave—he wasn’t Noah’s dad and he could step the fuck off. “I’m betting you’ll want to come with us, and that’s great. But he’s not stayin’ in this shithole another night.”

I shook my head slowly and deliberately. I felt the same way about our apartment—it didn’t feel safe anymore—but I wasn’t going to let him just swoop in and take over. I’d find us a new place. I wasn’t quite sure how, but I’d do it.

I’d spent the last seven years honing my survival skills.

“You don’t get to make that decision. He’s not your son, Ruger.”

“Decision’s made,” Ruger replied. “And he may not be my son, but he’s definitely my kid. I claimed him the minute he was born, and you damned well know it’s true. I didn’t like how you took him so far from me, but I respect why you did it. Things have changed now. Mom’s dead, Zach’s gone, and this”—he gestured around the ratty little studio—“this isn’t good enough. What the fuck do you need in your life that’s more important than giving Noah a safe place to live?”

I glared at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Keep it down,” Ruger told me, stepping forward into my space, pushing me back. It was a power play, pure physical intimidation. I’ll bet it usually worked for him, too, because when he loomed over me like that, every survival instinct I had told me to roll over and follow his orders. Something quivered down below … Stupid body.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” he continued. “What the fuck are you spending your child support on? Because it sure as shit isn’t this hellhole. And why the fuck did you move out of your other place? It wasn’t great, but it was okay, and it had that little park and playground. When you told me you were moving, I thought that meant you found something nicer.”

“I’m here because I got evicted for not paying my rent.”

His jaw tightened convulsively. His expression darkened, something impossible to read filling his eyes.

“You wanna tell me why—exactly—I’m just hearin’ about this situation?”

“No,” I replied honestly. “I don’t want to tell you anything. It’s none of your business.”

He stilled, taking a series of deep breaths. Long seconds passed, and I realized he was consciously forcing himself to calm down. I thought he’d been angry before, but the cold fury that came off of him now was a whole new level … I shivered. That was one of the many problems with Ruger. Sometimes he scared me. And the guys in his club?

Even scarier.

Ruger was poison to a woman in my situation, no matter how sweet he was to Noah or how badly my body craved his touch.

“Noah is my business,” he finally said, each word slow and deliberate. “Everything that touches him is my business. You don’t get it, that’s your problem, but it ends tonight. I’m taking him home where it’s safe so I won’t ever get another fucking phone call like that one again. Jesus, you haven’t even done the basics to secure this place. Don’t you ever listen to me? I told you to get some of those little alarms for the windows until I could come over and wire the place up right.”

I steeled my spine and held fast.

“One, you don’t get to take him anywhere,” I said, trying very hard not to flinch or let my voice tremble. I couldn’t afford to show any weakness, despite the fact that I was perilously close to peeing myself. “And two, your asshole brother hasn’t paid me any child support for nearly a year now. Health and Welfare can’t find a trace of him, either. I did my best, but I couldn’t keep up the rent on the other place. I can afford the rent here, so we moved. You have no right to judge me—I’d like to see you raise a child on what I earn. They don’t just give out those window alarms for free, Ruger.”

His jaw twitched.

“Zach’s working the oil fields in North Dakota,” he said slowly. “Makin’ damned good money. I talked to him two months ago, about Mom’s estate. He said everything was okay between you two.”

“He lied,” I said forcefully. “That’s what he does, Ruger. This isn’t news. Are you really surprised?”

I felt suddenly tired—thinking about Zach always made me tired, but sleep wasn’t the answer. He waited for me in my dreams, too. I always woke up screaming.

Ruger turned and walked over to the window, leaning on the sill and looking outside thoughtfully. Thank God, he seemed to be calming down. If he didn’t look so deceptively attractive silhouetted in my window, my world would make sense again.

“I guess I shouldn’t be,” he said after a long pause. “We both know he’s a fuckin’ loser. But you should’ve told me. I wouldn’t have let this happen.”

“It wasn’t your problem,” I replied softly. “We were doing fine, at least until tonight. My regular sitters all have that flu that’s going around. I made a mistake. I won’t make it again.”

“No, you won’t,” Ruger said, turning to face me. He tilted his head to the side, eyes boring through me. He looked a little different, I realized. He’d lost a bunch of his piercings. Too bad it hadn’t softened him up even a little bit, because his expression was pure steel. “I won’t let you. It’s time to admit you can’t do it all on your own. Club’s full of women who love kids. They’ll help out. We’re a family, and family doesn’t stand by when someone’s in trouble.”

I’d opened my mouth to argue when I heard a light knock on the door. Ruger pushed off the window and strode over to open it.

A giant of a man walked in, taller even than Ruger, which was saying something. He wore faded jeans, a dark shirt, and a black leather vest covered with patches, just like Ruger’s, including his name and a little red diamond with a 1% symbol on it.

All the Reapers had them, and my old friend Kimber had told me it meant they were outlaws—that I had no trouble believing.

This new guy had shoulder-length, darkish hair and a face so perfectly handsome he could’ve been a movie star. Under one arm he held a stack of broken-down cardboard boxes, tied together with what looked like baling wire.

In the other he held an aluminum baseball bat and a roll of duct tape.

I swallowed and nearly fainted. My hands actually started sweating, because I’m cliché like that. My nemesis hadn’t just come to rescue us, he’d brought along one of his accomplices. That was the biggest problem with Ruger—he was a package deal. You bought one Reaper, you bought them all.

Well, all of them who weren’t currently serving time.

“This is one of my brothers, Horse,” Ruger said, closing the door behind him. “He’s gonna help us move your shit. Stay quiet, but start packing whatever you want to bring. You’ll be staying in the basement at my place. Don’t think you’ve seen my new property,” he added pointedly, which I knew was a dig at me for refusing his offer of a room at the beginning of the summer when we visited Coeur d’Alene. “But it’s got a daylight basement with a kitchen and everything, and you’ll have your own little patio. There’s tons of space for Noah to run around, too. It’s furnished, so only bring what you really care about. The rest of this shit can stay.”

He glanced around the room, judging my furniture. I saw his point. Most of it had been scrounged off curbs next to Dumpsters. The finer pieces came from thrift stores.

“How’s the kid?” Horse asked softly, setting the boxes down and leaning them against the wall. Then he hefted the bat, giving it a little toss and catching it with his other hand. I couldn’t help but notice how thick his arms were. Apparently club life wasn’t all drinking and whoring, because Ruger and his friend obviously did some serious weight lifting. “Did the bastard touch him? What’re we dealing with?”

“Noah’s fine,” I said quickly. I eyed the tape, which Horse had failed to deposit next to the folded boxes. “He was scared, but it’s over now. And we really don’t need your help, because we aren’t going back to Coeur d’Alene.”

Horse ignored me, glancing toward Ruger.

“The guy still here?”

“Dunno yet,” Ruger replied. He looked to me. “Sophie, show us which apartment they’re in.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked, glancing between them. Their faces were completely blank. “You can’t actually kill him. You know that, right?”

“We don’t kill people,” Ruger said, his voice calm and almost soothing. “But sometimes assholes like him have accidents when they aren’t careful. Can’t control that—it’s a fact of life. Show us where he is.”

I looked at Horse’s big, strong hands holding his baseball bat and the roll of duct tape, one thumb caressing the silver surface.

Then I thought about Noah clinging to a fire escape, four stories high, hiding from a “bad man” who wanted him to sit on his lap so he could tickle him.

I thought about the booze and the pot and the porn.

Then I walked to the door, opened it, and pointed across the hall toward Miranda’s studio.

“They’re in there.”

Ten minutes later, I couldn’t stop wondering what Ruger meant by the word “accident.”

Were they planning a fatal “accident”?

I told myself it wasn’t my problem. Miranda’s fate was set the moment Noah called Ruger, crying and begging for help—totally beyond my control. Telling myself that worked for about half an hour, and then my conscience kicked in.

If Ruger and Horse weren’t planning to kill someone, why did they need a bat and duct tape? Those weren’t constructive-discussion-about-what-you-did-wrong supplies. Those were killing-someone-and-hiding-the-body supplies. The only thing missing was a box of big black garbage bags. I’d seen Dexter. I knew these things.

Miranda deserved serious payback for Noah, but she didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t need that kind of karma.

I called Ruger’s cell. He didn’t answer.

Then I crept across the hall and knocked on the door. There weren’t any screams or anything coming from inside. Good sign or bad? Hard to tell—this was my first felony and I didn’t know the proper procedure. I heard boots crossing the creaky wooden floor.

“It’s me,” I said, pitching my voice low. “Can you come out for a sec? I really need to talk, Ruger.”

“Ruger’s busy,” Horse replied through the door. “We’ll be done here soon. Go get packed and take care of your boy. We got this.”

I tried the knob. Locked.

“Seriously, Sophie, go back to your place.”

I backed away from the door. Now what?

The open window at the end of the hall caught my eye. The fire escape. Ruger had used it to get into my apartment, and Miranda’s place was a mirror of mine. Maybe I could get in that way to make sure everything was all right?