Page 41 of The Biker’s Guilty Pleasur

“I didn’t come to compromise,” Reaper said.

Cartright looked pissed off. “Okay, if you didn’t come here to compromise, why did you come?”

The judge was getting angry, likely used to getting his own way.

Reaper smiled, and he knew he didn’t have the nicest of smiles. More often than not, a smile was not natural on him. He tended to have to force it, and it came across as a little psycho-killer. Not that he minded that reputation.

He stared at Cartright. “Because I can,” Reaper said, and then he got to his feet. His point had been made, and he walked toward the door.

“I’ll be watching you,” Reaper said, and he kept that smile on his face.

Cartright was now in checkmate without a way out. He must have figured Reaper wanted to come to make some kind of deal for the club. He didn’t. His aim for today was to piss Cartright off, and also prove to him that he didn’t hold all of the cards.

He walked across the street, and Chad stayed by the door, being the good little security guard.

Cartright was no longer in charge. Any move he made could end his career. Reaper held the cards, and he knew this had put a target on his back. Pocketing his cell phone, he straddled his bike, looked toward Cartright’s office, and gave him a thumbs-up.

Next, he drove away to do a quick pitstop at the shelter to see Gena. As he was there, he also tried to talk to Heidi, but it was like the woman had gone into some kind of trance, which wasn’t good. They needed her to snap out of it.

This is what her husband anticipated—for her to be so afraid she wouldn’t talk to the cops—and it pissed him off so fucking badly, but there was nothing he could do. After trying to talk to her and getting nowhere, he told Gena not to get any more volunteers, until all of this blew over, then he made his way back to the club.

No one was outside, and he parked his bike, taking a few moments to catch his breath, and looked up toward the clubhouse.

The judge could fuck this place up—Reaper was aware of the danger and the damage that could be caused. He had a feeling Cartright cared about his reputation. Every part of this had been some kind of charade. Cartright attempting to keep his name as far away from the people involved—from the rent on the hostel, to the coroner, and even now. There was nothing on Cartright’s wife letting him go.

Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his cell phone. He didn’t play the video, but the woman on the ground looked petrified, and he saw that relief in her eyes at the sight of him. She didn’t want to be there, but now he needed to find out her identity, so he could have a talk with her. Some women, like Heidi, were broken down, but other women still had that fire to make the man pay. He knew all about it. His mother had been the same way. She’d been broken down, beaten by life, and it had killed him to see. He didn’t want to see another woman suffer the way his mother did.

****

Grace laughed. She couldn’t help it as Reaper’s hands went to her armpits, and they didn’t stay there but started to work all over her body.

“Please stop, I’m going to pee,” she said.

She didn’t know how they had gotten into this little tickle fight, only that she had completely lost, because Reaper was a master and overpowered her. If he didn’t stop soon, she feared she was going to embarrass herself.

“You promise to be good?” he asked.

Grace smiled up at him. “Of course, I’m going to be good.” She let out a giggle. “You’re the one that started this.”

“Actually, babe, you’re the one that asked if I had a ticklish spot, and guess what, I don’t.”

She scrunched up her nose to him, and then shrugged.

“Whereas you do,” he said, and his hand tensed right between her thighs, at the flesh.

She couldn’t help but try to pull away, but she wasn’t fighting him because she didn’t want his touch, she did. She just didn’t want to be tickled.

“Time out. Time out. Please, I would never forgive you if I embarrassed myself.” She was mortified, because they had been play-fighting now for a good twenty minutes. It wasn’t fighting, not really. It was just playful fun. She was enjoying most of it.

“Then, you know what you’re going to have to do,” Reaper said.

“What?” she asked. “What do I need to do?”

“Kiss me. Give me a big one on the lips.”

She laughed but was able to make his hands drop from sensitive areas, and she crawled into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, smiled at him, and then kissed him. Grace literally just pecked him on the cheek. Innocent, sweet, but she saw the look Reaper gave.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”