Page 5 of Reaper Released

Everything hurts as I barrel down the road towards the MC. I hold on to my side as the blood oozes through the T-shirt and I put my foot down. I just need to make it back before I pass out. I can see the garage up ahead. As I drive through the gates to the garage I’m greeted by about twenty of the guys all pointing their guns at me, screeching to a halt as I cut the engine.

Steel

The guys on lookout have sounded the warning siren. There’s a van driving erratically heading this way. We all pile out of the door, some guys staying around the clubhouse and some of us heading over to the garage. I stay beside my brother, and the Fucked Up Five are beside us too. We all raise our guns, except for Ares.

It’s a show of strength and confidence in us. The van screeches to a halt, the driver's door swings open, and the figure rounds the front of the van. My breath is taken from me, and my hand slowly lowers my gun. It’s like everything’s happening in slow motion.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her hair’s dishevelled in a high ponytail, the blonde shimmering in the sun, giving her this almost angelic halo-like glow. Her face is mottled with bruising in various colours, blood splatters over her cheeks, and her body’s glistening with sweat and blood splashes. She has a rag tied around her arm, one at her waist and one on her thigh.

She’s only wearing a bra and jeans. As she rounds the front of the van, her muscles flex. I can see a sleeve of tattoos. She makes eye contact with me for a split second, and I think I notice a slight twitch to the side of her mouth as she glances across to find Ares.

“Yo, Boyband!” she bellows. “Do you have somewhere for… overnight guests?” He’s beside me, arms crossed. He nods once, as she turns to head to the back of the van, giving us all a view of her full back tattoo. A female, pin-up style Grim Reaper, leg resting on one of three gravestones and a raven sat on one of the others, a finger raised to her lips and holding a scythe over her shoulder. It’s stunning, she’s stunning, and the most piercing blue-grey eyes stand out in the all-black and grey design.

She has a gun stuck into the back of her jeans, and she’s breathtaking. She swings the back doors open and jumps up into the back of the van. It starts shaking as a hog-tied body flies out onto the ground, rolling to the side, followed by the boot she has clearly kicked him out using. He looks unconscious or dead. Jumping down from the van, she yells again.

“Viking, Tank, put my guest somewhere safe till I get cleaned up!” They both move at her command, no question about it.

“Dozer, get your arse over here!” Dozer’s stood in the garage. Without hesitation, he walks over to her. She claps him on the shoulder, and gestures inside the van. Fuck knows what’s in there.

His eyes light up like fucking Christmas, and he turns and shouts, “Casper, Roach with me!” They jog across in front of me towards him.

“Dice!” Just that one word has my brother running towards her. “Front seat!” She points and he nods, pausing for a second in front of her before he goes. They clearly share a look. Viking and Tank are already dragging her guest away. Casper and Roach emerge from the back of the van, each with a bike, rolling it towards the garage as Dozer barks orders at them.

“Priest.” Nodding, he walks towards her. As he reaches her, she leans in to talk into his ear. Whatever she says, he nods. As she goes to move away, he grabs her hand and squeezes it. Her eyes soften as she gives him a single nod and he releases her.

She walks over towards us. “Miss me, Boyband?” He steps forward and drags her into a hug. She whispers something into his ear and he nods, stepping back she glances at me, then back to him. “I need a phone, a drink, a burger and a suture kit!”

Ares reaches into his pocket and unlocks his phone, handing it to her, but before he can say anything, I step forward. “Follow me.”

She glances at Ares and he gives her a nod. She nods as she steps in behind me. She has the phone already to her ear. “Bitch face… I’m good… No… I’ll let you know when… Stay safe, K.F.D, motherfucker!” She tosses the phone back to Ares.

I turn to her, cocking a brow in question at her. She shrugs at me as she strides past. She grabs the door to the clubhouse and storms into it.

She goes straight to the bar, leaning over it and reaching behind. “Motherfucker!” She winces as she grabs her side. I have my phone out and send texts to Barbie and Doc, stuffing my phone back in my pocket. She’s stood at the side of the bar gripping her side, chest heaving as she gulps down tequila straight from the bottle, letting it fall from her mouth. Her eyes meet mine as she licks her lips, dropping the bottle to her side.

Fuck, I want so badly to be that tequila on her lips. I turn and head down the corridor towards my room, which is next to the med room at the end of the hall opposite Ares's. I step inside.

She follows me in while looking around. “Why am I in here?”

I point to the bathroom. “Med room’s next door. I’ll grab what you need, towels on the rack.” I step out and shut the door behind me. I stop dead in my tracks and take a breath, adjusting my cock in my jeans. It’s totally inappropriate to have a boner when she’s covered in blood and injured, isn't it? “Fuck!” I’m just about to head into the med room when someone clears their throat next to me. Looking over, Ares’s there with a smug grin on his face.

“You good, Brother?”

I nod.

“Sure you are.” He laughs.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the med room. When I come back out, he’s gone. I head back into my room. I hear the shower going, so I grab a T-shirt from my drawer for her to put on. Then, because I’m an asshole, I put it back and grab a Harley tank with a skull on it. My cock twitches at the thought of her wearing it.

A crash breaks my deviant thoughts, and before I know it, I’m in the bathroom. She’s knocked everything off the bathroom shelf onto the floor, and she’s hanging onto the wall with her eyes closed, panting. She’s under the spray of water in her underwear and the scraps of fabric over her wounds. Her jeans and boots are discarded on the floor. I tear my own boots off, strip out of my jeans and T-shirt and step into the shower with her.

“The fuck you doing?” She flinches and snarls at me.

“Helping!” is all I say as I grab the shampoo and start rubbing it into her hair. She flinches at the contact.

“I can do it my fucking self, you need to get out!”

I think it’s supposed to be threatening, but it comes out breathy and sultry as she wobbles and flattens her hand on the tiles. Dropping her head down, she gasps for breath.

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