Page 13 of The Biker’s Guilty Pleasur

Why was she so relaxed with him? She felt safe, heard, respected.

“How much time do you need?” he asked.

“To eat this?”

“No, to tell me why you hate bikers.”

“It’s just hard. It brings up too many feelings that I don’t want to feel anymore.”

“It’s not good to bottle things up,” he said.

She thought about the ton of baggage he must have hidden inside of him, but kept her mouth shut.

****

Reaper pulled into the compound. He was soaked through and couldn’t wait to hit the shower and crash into bed for the night. The rain had finally stopped.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Tarmac asked.

“I stuck around a bit. Power went out.”

Copper took a swig of his beer, stepping closer to Reaper’s bike. “How? Everything should be working like a charm.”

“Just the weather. Tripped the breaker.”

“You know you owe us big time,” Tarmac said. He was sitting on a lawn chair, flicking through his phone. “This isn’t fucking UNICEF. I didn’t sign up for charity work.”

“You’ll get paid. Relax.”

“What about that chick?”

That caught his attention and he whirled around toward Tank. “What chick?”

They all scoffed like fucking little schoolgirls giggling about a boy.

“If you have something to say, say it,” Reaper said.

“What he means is, you’ve got the hots for that blonde at the shelter.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, okay, buddy,” Tarmac said. “You were practically drooling every time she walked by.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Am I?”

“I don’t have time for your old lady gossip. I’m hitting the shower.”

“What happened?” Tank asked. “You crash and burn?”

He wasn’t going to get into this with his brothers. As club enforcer he was responsible for keeping the peace, not rearranging faces. Reaper didn’t think he was that transparent when it came to Grace. He’d have to be more careful.

He took a quick shower, tossing all his wet clothes in the hamper.

It was late so he went outside to do his rounds, check the locks, gates, and make sure all the fires were out. He had a note about one of the newer prospects throwing his weight around and the older boys were talking. It wasn’t going to work for him. Reaper went over to the prospect’s room, banging on the door with his fist.

“What the fuck?” He opened the door, a towel wrapped around his waist.