Devil’s game

Chapter Eight

ONE WEEK LATER

I was right.
“We’ll talk later” meant “We won’t talk about it.”
To be fair, Dad wasn’t around much in the days following my rescue. He didn’t say where he was going, but I assumed he was off dealing with Toke and the Devil’s Jacks. I just hoped he hadn’t “dealt” with them permanently. Of course, I was expected to stay home and forget all about it.
That shit used to be okay. Not anymore.
Not that I would confront Dad directly or try to push my way into a club meeting to find out the real situation—nope, that wouldn’t accomplish anything, anyway. But it did confirm what I’d started to realize the day Sophie and I took down Skid. It was time for one Emmy Lou Hayes to get the hell out of Coeur d’Alene.
I needed to grow up and get a life.
Finding a place to go was the first challenge. I knew I could stay with Kit, but she only had a studio at school in Olympia. I didn’t think it was fair to put that kind of pressure on her. Nope, I wanted to find my own path. At least I had money saved … One advantage to living with my father was I didn’t really have many expenses. I’d already applied to that aesthetician’s program in Portland. It was a great school, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk being in the same city as Hunter. On the other hand, it was a city—not a village. Wasn’t like I’d see him around all the time. Hell, I’d probably never run into him at all.
I even knew where he lived, so I could be sure to avoid him.
(Okay, so I’d done a little online stalking of my own by now. I still had his wallet, which I suppose I should’ve felt guilty over. Instead I used his credit card to order some really cute lingerie. I didn’t spend enough to bankrupt him, but it was enough to make him suffer a little. Oh, and I sprang for gift wrapping and overnight delivery, because why not? Just because I’d saved his life didn’t mean I’d forgiven him for what he’d done.)
Unfortunately, ordering presents for myself online was the closest I could get to real shopping, because Dad put me on lockdown. And if that weren’t bad enough, Painter had appointed himself as my own personal guardian angel while Dad was gone. I couldn’t believe I used to crush on that guy—now all I saw when he walked into a room was a vision of him screwing some skank on a bathroom counter. Liam had been right. I definitely deserved better. Despite my hostility, Painter insisted on driving me to work every morning and meeting me for lunch. Then he’d drive me home and hang out at the house, spending the night on the couch or in Kit’s old bedroom.
To call this awkward was one hell of an understatement.
Thus I took to spending a lot of time in my room. That’s where I was on Friday night, exactly one week from the day I’d met Hunter for the first time. I had my TV on and I was playing around online when a private message popped up.
LIAM: Hey Em
I blinked. I’d blocked his ass. How the hell did he get through?
LIAM: Are you there?
I considered the little flashing message alert. Should I answer? What would I say? Direct confrontation, I decided. Call him on his shit, because seeing his message didn’t send a little thrill through me at all. No thrills allowed.
ME: How did you contact me? I blocked you.
LIAM: Probably best not to give up all my secrets. How are you?
ME: I’m great. Nobody took naked pictures of me without my consent today.
LIAM: Guess I had that coming. You wearing any of those panties you bought with my card?
I giggled, then managed to cut it off. Didn’t need Painter bursting in to check on me. And why was I laughing, anyway? Still … I wish I’d seen Hunter’s face when he realized I was spending his money.
ME: Yes. I’m wearing a midnight blue pushup bra and matching thong, because I’m getting ready to go out on a date. I like my new man a lot because he doesn’t kidnap people.
LIAM: A date? Pretty sure you’re stuck at home tonight with Painter. Please tell me you aren’t dating him? Hate me all you want, but you really can do better.
My breath caught. How did he know Painter was here?
ME: Are you stalking me again?
LIAM: Just tonight. I need to talk to you. Promise—last time—then I’ll leave you alone. You saved my life. Let me share what I know so you can stop worrying. I know your dad hasn’t filled you in, but you deserve answers.
I stared at the screen. How f*cking stupid did he think I was? I should turn off the computer. But I was also curious … After all, I’d betrayed my club for this a*shole. Now I wanted to hear what he had to say.
ME: So talk.
LIAM: Not online. Can you come outside?
I froze again. Shit. He couldn’t be serious, could he? I glanced at my window, relieved to see that the shade was tightly closed. Someone outside might be able to see that my light was on, but they wouldn’t be able to see inside.
ME: Why would I be stupid enough to do that?
LIAM: Because you’re curious. Bring a gun if it makes you feel better. But come outside and talk to me—I promise it’s safe. Don’t let Painter follow you, though. Last thing we need is another standoff.
Like hell I’d talk to him. I closed my computer and set it on the bed, grabbing the TV remote. Of course I wasn’t going outside. That would be incredibly stupid. I reached down and rubbed my leg lightly over the still-healing gash. Despite all the blood, Skid’s bullet hadn’t really caused any real damage—just a flesh wound. But even flesh wounds hurt like a bitch. I wondered if Hunter had ever been shot, and had the sudden urge to march out there and demonstrate to him just how painful a graze from a bullet could be.
I had excellent aim.
I flipped through the channels, trying to find a distraction. There was nothing on, of course. Just some creepy reality show about a woman who thought she was a squirrel. Life with Cara, or some such shit. My phone buzzed. Another message from Hunter …
LIAM: Come outside and see me. It’s safe. Remember—I only took you to save a brother’s life. I may have scared you, but I wouldn’t have actually hurt you. I know I destroyed what we were starting and I understand I can never fix it. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.
I dropped the phone and flopped back on my bed. The clock next to me said it was one in the morning. I should just turn off the light and go to sleep. That was what the old me would’ve done. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. We had been starting something—something good. Because despite everything between our clubs, I’d spent hours talking on the phone to this man, sharing jokes and telling stories. We’d laughed together and that hadn’t been fake.
Remembering all that pissed me off, too. He’d killed us, whatever the hell “us” had been growing into. He should pay for what he did. I got up and pulled on a pair of ratty sweatpants. A hoodie and my favorite pink Converse completed the outfit.
Yeah, I know. Sexy.
I had a flash of déjà vu as I tiptoed down the stairs past Painter, who was sleeping on the couch, TV still flickering in the darkness. I stopped off in the dining room, grabbing a tiny pistol from behind a plate in the china cabinet. It was full of stuff my mother had collected—stuff we never used but wouldn’t consider throwing away in a million years.
I gave it a quick check, making sure it was loaded (it was) and ready for action (damned straight). Then I tucked it in the pocket of my hoodie right next to my cell, and slipped out the back door. The moon was full, and as I walked away from the house, the night’s beauty startled me. There were crickets singing all around, and while the stars were faint in the bright moonlight, they were everywhere.
Keeping my eyes sharp, I looked around carefully. No sign of anyone, but I knew just how sneaky Hunter and Skid could be. My hand tightened on the gun. Now what?
My phone buzzed again.
LIAM: I’m out behind the bunkhouse
I glanced up, spotting the small building nestled back in the trees. Once upon a time it housed workers on the ranch that used to surround us. The land had been divided up and sold off years ago, but the old outbuildings still stood. Kit and I used it as a playhouse, and now it was full of random junk my dad had collected over the years. I fingered the gun again, the slight pain in my leg a constant reminder that this a*shole had gotten me shot. Time for payback?
I couldn’t quite decide.
HUNTER

I heard Em before I saw her. She stumbled over something in the darkness and started cussing. Cute. Then she peeked around the corner of the building, her face shadowed and unreadable.
“Back here,” I called softly. I sat leaning against the wall, holding my hands up so she could see for herself I wasn’t up to anything.
For once in my life, I wasn’t.
Go figure.
I just wanted to see how she was and make sure she knew about the truce. No, that was a flat-out lie. I just wanted to see her. Period. For all I knew she was about to shoot me, and I couldn’t really blame her if she did. Didn’t change how bad I needed to be near her, even if it was just so she could hate me in person.
Not only that, I didn’t trust Hayes to fill her in on the changing situation. She shouldn’t have to live in fear for the next year, wondering if the Jacks were out for revenge. Not that Skid was her number one fan … But he wanted the truce as much as the rest of us, not to mention she’d kept her club from killing him. He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness at the time, but he remembered that part.
Unfortunately, the Jacks’s leadership was still up in the air. Our current president, Mason, had rallied. Now the doctors said he had a few more months. I thought we should just get the elections over with while we had the votes, but Burke was holding off. He felt like he couldn’t really count on the full support of the club while Toke was still alive.
He was probably right about that.
The good news about the situation was that Clutch was expected to make a full recovery—eventually—despite the fact that Toke had taken a baseball bat to his leg. In the end, it hadn’t been either MC that found him. Some Good Samaritan heard him moaning through a hotel room wall and called the cops. They’d come bursting in to save Clutch and they’d caught Toke when he came back to the room with food.
“Liam?” Em called, her voice cool in the darkness. Christ, I loved the way she said my name. Nobody else called me Liam, it felt like something special, just from her. Went straight to my cock, which wasn’t so good because tonight wasn’t about getting her naked. Chances were, that’d never happen again.
“Over here,” I called softly. She walked toward me, pulling out a small gun and pointing it at me. Of course she’d taken me up on my suggestion. The f*cking thing looked like a toy.
I’d bet my bike it wasn’t.
“Did you like the presents I got you?” I asked.
She looked blank.
“The shit you bought with my credit card,” I continued, cocking a brow. I still couldn’t believe she’d picked my pocket. Pissed me off, but I had to admire her for it. “I shut it down, by the way. No more shopping.”
She smiled and a wave of lust smacked straight through me. F*ck, I’d forgotten how beautiful she was. I really, really wanted that beauty wrapped around my dick, screaming my name. How did she do that to me? A cunt was a cunt, but not Em … Christ. Unsexy thoughts, I told myself. Slugs. Athlete’s foot. Skid.
“Sorry,” she said lightly, in a tone that clearly wasn’t sorry at all. “I suppose you could report me to the cops.”
I had to smile. Cops. Yup, that was unsexy enough to do the trick.
“I guess you earned it,” I admitted.
“Oh, I earned more than that,” she said, the gun unwavering. “You kidnapped me, you f*cked me over, and then you took pictures of me naked. Gonna take more than pretty panties to make that right.”
“I’ll concede the point,” I said, considering the photos. I might regret everything else, but damned if I’d regret those. “Anything I can do to make it up to you? More shit from Victoria’s Secret sounds perfect to me, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“You know, I’ve given this quite a bit of thought over the past week, and I keep coming back to one idea … How about I shoot you in the balls? Payback seems only fair, right?”
My eyes widened. Em laughed, the sound delicate in the darkness. Then she shook the gun at me like a little finger “tsking” me for being too loud in a library.
“Hey, you asked,” she said. “I’m going back inside now.”
“No, stop,” I said quickly, holding up a hand. “I have shit to tell you. About the situation between our clubs.”
She frowned.
“Why should I trust you?”
I shrugged.
“You don’t have to trust me,” I said. “But I owe you my life. Thanks for that phone call, by the way.”
She flinched.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, well, assuming you had done something for me—theoretically, of course—I’d want you to know how much I appreciated it,” I said softly. “I’d also want to tell you what’s happening with the truce, maybe make sure you know you’re safe now.”
I reached toward my pocket. She straightened her arms into a shooting stance.
“I’m just grabbing some weed,” I told her. “Been a hell of a week, could use a smoke. You want some?”
She shook her head, but when I pulled out the joint, I saw her relax a little.
“Go ahead, sit down,” I told her. “Keep your gun on me if it makes you happy. But I’d rather you didn’t. Knowing my luck, a spider will fall on you or something and the f*ckin’ thing will go off.”
“Sexist much?” she asked, frowning. “Poor little Em, scared of spiders. Can’t handle her gun. Afraid I won’t remember which end goes bang?”
I started laughing. In fact, I laughed so hard that I couldn’t talk at first. She glared at me the whole time, but she also lowered the pistol.
“Babe, I nearly shot Skid in the ass one time because a spider fell on me while I was holding a gun,” I finally managed to say. “Those things freak me right the hell out. They got eight f*ckin’ legs, and that ain’t natural. That’s some Dr. Seuss shit right there.”
She cocked her head at me and a smile crept across her face.
“It’s really hard to take you seriously when you’re afraid of spiders and Dr. Seuss,” she murmured. Damn, I loved the sound of her voice. If I ever found myself alone with Toke, I’d be killing him with my bare hands. Not because of what he did to Clutch—no, I owed the bastard for ruining my chance to f*ck this gorgeous girl.
“So, what’s the proper, Devil’s Jacks–approved policy regarding scary spiders and children’s books?” she asked lightly. “Do your bylaws stipulate extra points for making more than one reference in a conversation? ’Cause I’m not really a Dr. Seuss fan.”
I stared at her, startled.
“Em, you gotta be a f*ckin’ communist, you don’t like Dr. Seuss. Jesus.”
She started laughing and relaxed her stance. The gun was still out, but she came over and sat down about six feet away from me, back to the bunkhouse wall. I lit up and took a hit, feeling the harsh smoke slide down my throat and into my lungs. I wasn’t a huge stoner, but I figured I’d earned a little relaxation.
“So what did you want to tell me?” she asked. I took another hit, then let my arms rest on my knees.
“Well, the cops caught Toke,” I said. “You probably knew that.”
“Nope,” she muttered. “I’d guessed things were settling down, seeing as we’re not at war, but nobody confirmed it for me.”
“You sound a little tense. Sure you don’t want some?”
“No. I want to shoot you in the balls.”
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that,” I said slowly. “I’m startin’ to think it’s not a joke?”
She smiled at me. Not a nice smile.
“Nope. Not a joke. Like I said, I’ve been thinking about this all week. Just because I’m not screaming and yelling doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”
I studied her face, trying to decide how to play this out. I took another long drag, enjoying the cloudy feeling in my head.
To this day, that’s the only explanation I’ve got for what I did next.
“Okay, let’s compromise,” I said, standing slowly. “No shooting, but you can kick me if it means you’ll forgive me? I get that it’s over between us, but I don’t want you hating me. It’s important.”
The whites of her eyes grew huge in the moonlight.
“Are you serious?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.
I shrugged.
“I know I’ve earned it,” I admitted. “Probably earned more. Just do it and get it over with. Before I change my mind.”
I took one last inhale and then tossed the joint into the dirt. I think some part of me didn’t actually believe she’d follow through … I mean, in a movie she’d be overcome by the gesture and fling herself into my arms.
But Em? Not so much.
She straight-up kicked me in the balls, her pink Converse hitting me hard. Damn f*cking hard. Agony erupted in my crotch, and I fell to the ground, biting my lip to keep from whimpering like a baby. Christ, what a bitch. Then she made it worse, because she laughed at me.
“Wow, that felt really good.”
“Jesus, I can’t believe you did that,” I grunted, stars still exploding behind my eyes. It was all I could do to keep breathing. Couldn’t f*cking believe she actually did it. And I let her. I should’ve just asked the nice a*shole Reaper inside to shoot me and be done with it.
After a few minutes, I managed to pull myself up. Em was sitting against the wall, calmly smoking my joint, gun propped up on her knee. Would’ve been kind of sexy if I had even the slightest capacity for anything but excruciating pain in my groin.
On the bright side, I didn’t have to worry about an inconvenient hard-on for once.
“Oh, I’m thinking about doing something even more fun,” Em said sweetly. “It’s so sweet to see you rolling around in pain that I’m reconsidering shooting you.”
She lifted the pistol and pointed it straight at me.
F*ck. I had seriously misjudged this situation. She held my gaze for long seconds, taking another slow drag and blowing out a smoke ring. A f*cking smoke ring. Somewhere in the back of my head, I heard the theme from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly playing.
Liam “Hunter” Blake was about to be shot dead by a cliche.
Then Em burst out laughing. “The look on your face right now is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m never letting you scare me again.”
I sagged in relief as she let her weapon drop, then held the joint out to me. I sucked it down, hoping to kill some of my adrenaline.
“You’re a scary little bitch when you want to be,” I muttered. “Christ, Em. You need to stop playing with guns.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. “So tell me whatever it was you came here to say.”
I shook my head slowly, trying to think. Kind of hard to focus between the pain, the adrenaline, and the weird, surreal sense of pride I felt in her.
She’d make an amazingly unholy old lady.
“Toke’s in protective custody in the Clackamas County Jail right now,” I said slowly. “Nobody’s talked to him. I guess if the Reapers made contact, they aren’t telling us. They have a lot more to lose than we do.”
“How about your friends?” she asked. “The ones he shot up?”
“All good. I mean, they definitely got hurt, and Clutch has some rehab ahead of him. Your guy did a number on him—”
“Not my guy,” she broke in. “He sliced me open, remember?”
Oh, I remembered. I’d never forget the sight of her half naked, her fantastic tits right in front of me just begging to be touched. My dick twitched and I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. That was good news … Glad to know all the plumbing still worked.
“So what happened between the clubs?” she asked. “Truce in effect again?”
“Yup,” I said. “Picnic and Burke hammered it out. I don’t know what you told your dad, but he helped push it through. Good news for all of us. Means we can get back to riding and living instead of fighting with each other. You see a Jack, you don’t need to be scared of him.”
“Yeah, that is good news.”
Silence fell between us, and Em scooted a little closer to pass me the joint. Slowly I relaxed, considering Em’s little demonstration of force. I still felt the occasional twinge of pain, but the more I thought about it, the funnier the situation was.
“You f*cking kicked me in the balls,” I said, looking up at the sky.
“Yup. Enjoyed it, too.”
“Maybe you don’t realize this, but usually people try pretty hard not to piss me off. Bad things happen when I get pissed off.”
“Bad things happen when I get pissed off, too. You might want to remember that.”
I snorted, a reluctant smile crossing my face. We sat in silence for a while longer, the evening air just cool enough that I wished I had a blanket. Or Em’s warm body up against mine. After a while I scooted down, lying back in the grass and looking up at the stars. For once I wasn’t totally preoccupied with sex around her, which was kind of nice.
“It’s really pretty out here,” I said finally. “You’re lucky you grew up in a place like this.”
I heard her moving, and then she was lying in the grass next to me. Not too close—we weren’t touching. But close enough I could smell that unique, flowery scent that seemed to follow her everywhere.
“Where did you grow up?” she asked.
“Hell,” I said shortly.
Silence fell again.
“I miss you, Em.”
She didn’t answer. I yawned as something dark flew over us, followed by a second shadow.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Bats.”
“No shit?”
She laughed.
“Yeah, I’m lying to you about the bats, Liam.”
Christ, I loved hearing my name from her lips. Without thinking, I reached out and caught her, pulling her over and into me. She stiffened.
“Relax,” I whispered. “You’re safe.”
She pulled away for an instant, then sighed and nestled her head against my shoulder, slowly relaxing. Just holding her in the darkness kicked ass.
“You know, you were wrong about something,” she said after a while.
“What’s that?”
“I’d make a shitty old lady.”
“How do you figure?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Well, among other things, I have a habit of warning my club’s enemies so they can get away before they’re killed,” she said slowly. “You won’t tell anyone about that, will you? Dad would never forgive me.”
“Of course not,” I said, my voice firm. “You saved my f*ckin’ life. I wouldn’t do that to you. Hell, I don’t want to do anything to hurt you. Should’ve stayed away tonight, but I wanted you to know it was all over.”
Bullshit. I wanted to see her. Touch her. Smell her hair.
“It’s hard to know what you’d do,” Em said. “You taught me an important lesson—you can’t trust guys you meet online, remember?”
I winced.
“Yeah, about that … I’m sorry. It was a dick move.”
“But you were cool with romancing me and using me to manipulate my father in the first place?”
“Well, to be fair I did it to get laid, too. Wasn’t all business.”
She gave a little snort. Not an angry snort, more of a snuffly, surprised laugh that caught her off guard.
“Are you going to erase those pictures?” she asked, finally, her voice sobering. “I don’t want them out there. You owe me—I saved your ass, I saved Skid, and I saved this precious truce of yours.”
She made a good point. But there was no way I’d erase those pictures. F*ckin’ crown jewels in my spank bank.
“I’ll get rid of them,” I lied. Shit, if that was the worst one I told today, it’d be a damned record.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? For all I know, you’ve emailed them to your whole club already.”
“Naw, if I’d done that, it would’ve made the rounds of your club, too,” I told her. “No way my brothers would be able to resist sending them to your dad. I’ll take care of it. You never have to worry about seeing them again, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed, her voice drifting. She was falling asleep, I realized. I held perfectly still. After a few minutes I heard a very soft, very feminine little snore.
Note to self: Pot knocks Em on her ass.
I smirked, and then it faded because not like I’d have a chance to use that information. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be seeing her again after tonight. Hell, best-case scenario, the peace would hold and I’d see her across a campfire in a few years at some kind of gathering between the clubs. She’d have an old man by then … I’d just have to deal.
Unless it was that cocksucker Painter. I didn’t like that guy.
My last thought before I fell asleep was that if I ever saw him with Em, I’d have to kill him.
Just no escaping it.
EM

The birds woke me up. I was freezing cold on my right side, which seemed to be resting on … the ground? My back was warm, though, and a man’s arm lay heavy over my body.
What the f*ck?
Then it came to me.
Liam. Hunter. Whatever the hell his name was. He’d met me outside last night. I’d kicked him in the balls, and the memory warmed me immediately. Then we’d talked and smoked and it hadn’t been bad at all. Shit. That’d probably been stupid. But even with the ground all cold and damp beneath me, I felt fantastic cradled in his arms. His bicep made a hell of a nice pillow.
Ewww. I’d drooled on him.
I felt carefully in my pocket and pulled out my phone. Five thirty in the morning. I needed to get back inside, I realized. Not that Painter was my boss or anything, but he was a damned good spy for my father. I slid out from under Hunter’s arm carefully, then stood over him, taking him in one last time. Like so many people, sleep made him look young and innocent. Sure, he was still a big man made up of strong muscles and sharp angles, but his face had softened. Dark stubble covered his chin, and his near-black hair flopped forward over his eyes.
He wore his Devil’s Jack cut, too—the first time I’d seen it.
It looked good on him, I decided. Of course, everything looked good on him. He was such a beautiful son of a bitch, I thought wistfully, and now I’d probably never see him again. I couldn’t help but wonder what could’ve been.
Pulling out my phone, I took a couple quick pictures, figuring he’d done far worse to me. Then I walked carefully around the side of the bunkhouse and back to the house. I felt like a teenager sneaking inside after a date, a more accurate analogy than I’d realized because Dad’s bike was parked in the driveway. Sometime in the night he’d come home, although how I’d missed the sound of his big black Harley I couldn’t imagine.
Oh yeah. I’d been stoned off my ass. Oops.
I opened the door carefully. Then I snuck past Painter and climbed the stairs. I pulled out the phone and the gun, setting them on my bedside table before crawling under the covers. On Monday I’d give the folks at the aesthetician’s program a call, I decided. Follow up, see what they’d think of me coming to Portland for classes when the next quarter started.
It was a city, after all. Not like I’d ever see Liam at all.