Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Devil's Reapers

We made our way out to the designated spot for our bikes in front of the clubhouse I'd had paved and painted. Bikes were only to be parked there or in front of individual homes. We had two cagers and a grocery getter we also parked there, along with two smaller, older cars. There was a golf cart we kept to ride around the compound in that sat nearby, plugged in and charging. What could I say? I ran a tight ship and liked things just so.

My guys knew it and I'd like to think, respected it.

Trigger, Menace, Strife, Cutter, and I hopped on our Harleys and made our way down the path toward the gate. After it opened, we rumbled along the long dirt road that led out to the main roads in LaPlace.

It only took about twenty minutes to reach the Reapers' clubhouse. It sat on a large corner of a somewhat residential area in an older part of town, but outside of the Quarter and tourist areas of New Orleans. There were four Reapers standing outside, arms folded across their cuts, waiting for us.

As far as they knew, we were just another MC, of course having no idea that we were all angry werewolves who were about to literally transform into beasts tonight. We killed our engines and made our way up to the front entrance. I resisted an eyeroll when we were patted down for weapons. I had my piece in my bike pouch, but we had super strength so if any knives or anything came out, we would be able to hold our own.

We were ushered inside. I'd never been in their clubhouse before, as we rarely had any reason to deal with the Reapers except for the occasional trade or word about illegal dealings. Some we did on the down-low, others we helped them with. Like today.

The entrance was a large, dark room with a few pieces of furniture. Through that door opened up to a bar with a few club whores hanging around and a tired-looking bartender behind the bar. I nodded to him as we were led further into the back, to another large room with a desk in the corner. The club's president sat there.

"Psycho," he said, standing and greeting me with a strong handshake.

I pumped his hand up and down once and nodded. "Hawk."

"I'll get right to the point," he said, addressing the five of us while his four guys stood off to the side, listening. "To make a long story short, one of my guys has a cousin who was friends with one of the victims. She managed to get away and her cousin told her to go straight to us. We picked her up at the Greyhound station last night." He shook his head. "The girl's obviously fucked up. Starved, dirty, you get the picture."

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue. "Okay? Did she give you any info on who the fuckers are?"

"Yeah, she gave us vague descriptions, and we're going to track them down."

Why was he being so short? "And you need our help…?"

Hawk shook his head. "Nah, I think we'll be able to handle it. But if you have any firepower you could spare, we won't say no."

"So you called me to here because you need weapons?" I asked, confused.

He licked his lips. He actually looked nervous. In the three years I'd known this bastard, I'd never seen him look any type of way except angry. And sometimes homicidal.

"No, man. I need you to take the girl," he finally answered.

What the fuck?

"You ain't got room?" Trigger asked from beside me.

"Not only that," Hawk replied, "I've got the pigs watching the place. The last fuckin' thing I need is for them to think we were responsible for what happened to this girl."

"Why would they think that?" I asked. "She can clearly tell them it wasn't you."

He chuckled darkly. "Have you ever dealt with the cops? Specifically, the feds? They will think she's lying and lock us up. Stockholm syndrome and all that shit. You dig?"

My hackles rose. "Well… did you have something to do with it?" I blatantly asked.

"Fuck no!" he came back immediately. A glance showed the rest of his guys were thoroughly insulted by my accusation. Not that I gave a damn.

"Why not just dump her at the police station?" I asked.

He shook his head. "We tried that. She said no cops. They threatened her. Or some shit. Maybe the pigs had something to do with it. All I know is I need her the fuck out of my clubhouse."

"This information would have been helpful before we got here. We only have our bikes, man," I said, frustrated.

What the hell was I supposed to do with a human female right now? The full moon was tonight. As if the bitch wasn't already traumatized enough, she would soon forget all about her abduction once she saw how we got down during a full moon.

Hawk jutted his chin at one of his guys, who nodded in return and wandered out of the room. "Slim's going to get her. Then, I need all of you out of here. Do not make eye contact with the fuckin' pigs posted up across the street."

The white van we passed. I thought it was suspicious but then again, I was a paranoid motherfucker in general.

I barely nodded in acknowledgment.

"What do you know about her?" I asked to break up the cloying silence.

"She got off the bus at the Greyhound station, used the payphone to call Duke," Hawk said, pointing at a tall bald guy with yellow teeth and an unkempt blond and gray beard.

"She said she went to school with my cousin Amanda and that we'd help her. So I took the cager to the Greyhound station and picked her up. Brought her back here. Let her use the shower and fed her," Duke added.

"That's it?" I asked.

Duke nodded, as did Hawk, who was occasionally looking out the window. Paranoid dick.

"Okay, well, I guess we'll take her." She had to be better off with us than these smelly human fuckers. Not to mention they clearly had heat on them.

My guys looked at me in confusion and also seemingly for guidance. I resisted shrugging. I didn't want to take this lady in, but we had the room, and it would allow me to investigate further, maybe get more girls out and shut down whatever operation had been responsible for her abduction.

All heads turned when the Reaper returned with a small woman in tow. I watched as her bluish-purple eyes, that reminded me of a larkspur flower, scanned the room and went big when they landed on me. I saw fear but there was also a hard edge to her gaze; a bit of defiance. She was more angry than she was scared. A shock of short platinum-blonde hair haloed her head, and she brushed a stray strand away from her face.

"You're going with Psycho," Hawk told her. "They're gonna keep you safe."

She glared at Hawk and said, "I don't need to go with anyone. If you'll just get me a bus ticket to Tampa, I'll be out of your hair. I obviously don't have any money."

He shook his head. "Sorry, sugar. We need to find the guys who took you and try to get the rest of the girls out."

She snorted a laugh completely devoid of humor. "Good luck with that." Then, she looked at me, eyeing my cut. "Psycho? Really?"

Wow. She wasn't what I was expecting. I swallowed back a rare smile and said, "You can call me Shep if it makes you feel better. What's your name?"

She ignored the question. "Nothing would make me feel better except to go home."

Okay then.

I threw the Reapers a questioning look and they just shrugged. Guessed she hadn't told them her name either.

"You good?" Hawk asked me, and I noticed he was now by a window, flicking open the blinds to look out at the street.

Whatever he was involved with, I wanted no part of.

"Yeah, I'm good. Let's go." I grabbed the girl by the upper arm and she tried to twist out of my grip, but of course that was futile. She was tiny and I could wrap my entire fist around her bicep. I gave her a discreet whiff. She smelled like soap and pizza.

We were escorted back outside, and as I always rode alone, I only had one brain bucket, which I hardly wore. I eventually let go of her arm and gestured to my bike. "Put the fuckin' helmet on and get on." I tossed it to her. It was, of course, too big.

She snorted again. "I don't need one."

I shook my head and shrugged. "It's your funeral if we crash."

"And not yours?" she sassed.

My lips twitched. "No."

"Okay then. Just don't drive like a maniac."

I ignored that and slid on in front of her. After flicking up the kickstand, she still wasn't touching me.

"You'll want to hold on, larkspur, since you didn't want to wear the brain bucket."

Some squeals of protest spilled from her pretty mouth but I ignored them. Only once I felt her arms wrap around my waist did I take off down the road, my guys following me. I ignored the obvious white van and kept my gaze straight, my sunglasses firmly in place.

It was now afternoon, and as we entered the clubhouse, prospects and other club members gaped at us as we hauled in the female. She juddered to a halt as soon as we entered the massive front room. A few guys sat around watching the televisions and drinking, and all eyes on her had to feel intimidating.

"Come with me," I said. But she just didn't move. I looked at Cutter. "Make her something to eat, will ya?"

"You got it, boss," he replied, his near-bald head shining under the lights as he headed for the communal kitchen where he did most of the cooking for everyone. Dude was Gordon Ramsay on steroids.

"I'm not hungry," she muttered under her breath.

"It's cool. I'll eat with you," I said, realizing it was past lunchtime and I hadn't eaten today.

Menace told her, "Cutter makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches, you'll see."

She narrowed her eyes at my fellow wolf, trying not to have the same reaction everyone did when they saw his scarred face and dual-colored eyes. I could commend her for not staring at him in horror. "Okay…"

He smiled, which made him look more frightening, and asked, "What's your name, honey?"

She ignored him and looked at me. "Seriously, if you could just get me a ticket to Tampa, I'll be out of your hair. I promise."

I jutted my thumb over my shoulder at the prospects sitting in the plush loungers and they got up to make room for us. "Sit, please," I told her. "Do you want a drink? To take the edge off?" I pointed at the bar. Maybe some liquor would get her to talk.

She shook her head and looked around, her purple-blue eyes darting around before she sat and smoothed some short hair behind her ear. I stared at her for a minute, taking in her elfish features: smooth skin, thin upturned nose, full lips, and a sharp jawline. She was very pretty, not too delicate but a little rough around the edges at the same time.

"Is that where you're from? Tampa?" I asked, sitting in a chair next to her.

Trigger, Menace, and Strife stood next to us. She stared up at them, then me. I looked at them. "Why don't you guys get back to work. And someone go get Wizard," I added.

"You got it," Trigger said, and they left.

She stared at me for a long while, but didn't say anything. She sat with her legs up, her arms around them protectively.

"Psycho," I heard, and turned my head to see Wizard standing there. He glanced at her then at me. "You need me?"

I nodded and indicated to the woman. "Yes, I was hoping I'd have her name by now but she seems shy so I'm just calling her larkspur for now. Larkspur, this is Wizard."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is that your real name?" I watched as her gaze traveled down to his name patch on his vest.

He used his knuckle to push his black-rimmed glasses back up on his face. "No, ma'am. I'm Stefan if you you'd rather call me that. What should I call you?"

She moved her gaze back to me and said, "So what do you have going on here? Some elaborate motorcycle gang with a tech guy, a chef"—she jutted her chin to where Cutter was in the kitchen—"and, what, a scary enforcer with freaky eyes?"

I bit back a smile. "Something like that."

She lifted her chin and asked, "And are they all werewolves, or just you two?"