Reaper (Montana Bounty Hunters Book 1) Read online

  “Why do you ask?” he drawled.

  It was like he knew she was going to tease him. “Because you need a koi pond in your front yard, don’t you think?” Her lips spread into a wide smile in anticipation of his answer.

  After he’d stopped chortling about goldfish icicles, she felt better. “Reaper?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I like when you call me that.”

  A few seconds passed in silence.

  The worry she might have crossed into “needy-clingy” land again rose.

  But then he cleared his throat. “If I dig a hole, will you figure out how we keep it hot enough in a Montana winter?”

  He’s said “we” and “winter.” And he’d had enough time to think through what he was going to say, which meant that the words were deliberate. Dear God, she was falling in love with the man.

  Chapter 8

  Ten minutes after they turned off I-90 onto the two-lane highway leading straight to Helena, Reaper’s cellphone buzzed.

  Holding the phone next to the steering wheel, he ran his thumb up the screen and saw he had a text from Sammy. Frowning, he pressed the message.

  Sammy: You on the road, bro?

  Reaper hit voice. “Yeah. Not in Bear Lodge. You need something?”

  Sammy: Who’s in the rig?

  Reaper’s stomach dropped. “Me. My girl’s in my vehicle. What the fuck’s going on?

  Sammy: I’ll take care of her. Ditch the truck. You got trouble ahead.

  In his side mirror, he watched as a truck passed his SUV then abruptly slowed.

  The SUV ran off the shoulder into the ditch.

  Fuck! Tossing away the phone, he hit his mic button. “Baby, we’re about to be hit. You run into the woods!”

  He lifted his foot off the gas as the rig entered a bend in the highway, hoping he’d spot a place to pull over. Ahead, two vehicles sat parked sideways in the road, blocking both lanes. The shoulder wasn’t wide enough for him to get around, so he slammed on the brakes, stopping mere feet away from the vehicles.

  Staring through the windshield, he watched as Blacky McNally stepped from behind one of the trucks and raised a rifle. Holding up his left hand, hoping to stall for time, Reaper unclipped his seatbelt with the other, then dove sideways in his seat. A shot rang out, and glass sprinkled down. When he twisted, he saw a hole in the headrest.

  His chest tightened. Blacky didn't intend to let him live.

  With Reaper’s urgent voice still ringing in her ears, Carly grabbed her cellphone from the dash, slammed open her door, and leapt to the ground. In the distance, she heard a loud whine and the screech of tires, and knew Reaper fought to stop the truck. Hoping like hell he made it to the safety of the woods, she didn’t have time to say a prayer. She had her own problems. The pickup that cut her off was stopped. She ran around the back of Reaper’s SUV then darted across the ditch and straight into the woods.

  “Lady, stop!”

  Like hell. With no idea what was happening now that Reaper was out of sight, her first priority, the one thing she absolutely could not fail to do, was follow the plan. With her heart racing wildly, she reached the trees and slid behind a tall fir. She hit Brian’s number on speed dial and glanced back toward the road.

  A tall figure ran in her direction.

  A cold shiver hitting her spine, she pulled her Berretta from her holster.

  “Carly?” Brian’s voice sounded in her ear.

  “We’ve got trouble,” she whispered as loudly as she dared. “On Highway 12, maybe ten miles from I-90. We’re being hit.”

  “I’ll call the Montana Highway Patrol. Get somewhere safe.”

  She ended the call and stuffed her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. With her Berretta held close to her chest, she took a deep breath and darted a glance between the trees.

  The man approaching her held up both hands. “Lady, it’s Sammy. Reaper’s brother. I won’t hurt you.”

  His brother? She remembered what Reaper had said about his brother hanging around with the wrong people. “Don’t come any closer. I have a gun.” And I don’t want to kill Reaper’s brother, even if he is a criminal.

  “Ma’am, swear I don’t mean you any harm,” he said, his words coming fast. “But we don’t have time for this shit. We have to help my brother. They’re gonna kill him.”

  Another chill shivered down her spine, and she knew that if what he said was true, she had to take the risk. Remembering the way Reaper had spoken about his brother, she knew he would never give up on Sammy. And sincerity filled Sammy’s words. She lowered her weapon and stepped out from behind the tree. “Reaper carries weapons in the back of the Expedition.”

  With a nod, he turned and sped back toward the highway.

  In a few strides she made up the distance and followed on his heels. At the vehicle, she opened the back gate.

  Sammy pushed her aside and rifled through Reaper’s gear bag, pulling out what looked like flash-bang grenades, stuffing them into the large pockets of his black cargo pants, and then picking up a rifle. “You stay here.” He shut the gate and headed toward the front of the SUV.

  Gunfire sounded in the distance. She ran for the passenger side door and climbed inside as he started the engine.

  “I can see why he likes you,” Sammy muttered, pulling back onto the road and hitting the gas. “You don’t listen worth shit.”

  Just around the bend, Carly saw the rig, the cab doors still shut, two vehicles parked sideways in the middle of the highway in front of the semi. More gunfire sounded, rapid-fire, and she saw figures dart up from behind one of the vehicles to fire toward the semi. She couldn’t see Reaper, but she heard single shots, likely from Reaper’s handgun.

  He’s still alive. Adrenaline must have been flying through her veins, because time slowed, and she felt a fierce resolve to save him strengthen her muscles.

  “Get on the floor,” Sammy shouted and turned the wheel to head around the truck, not slowing.

  She ducked down to the floorboard and gasped when shots sounded and glass shattered above her, glittering fragments raining down on the seat she’d occupied.

  Barely breathing, she glanced toward Sammy. His face was screwed up in a frightening grimace as he gripped the wheel. Another spray of bullets pinged against the vehicle. Sammy ducked and hit the brakes. “Brace yourself!”

  The crash rocketed her headfirst into her seat. The driver’s side air bag popped and shot back to slam against Sammy. When she bounced back to the floor, she saw Sammy swiping at the quickly deflating white bag and gripping his shoulder. Then he reached into his pockets and tossed her the grenades, opened his door, and slid out, rifle in hand.

  She leaned toward her door, looked up to see the cab of the big rig, just in time to spot a hand raise and point a weapon toward the trucks ahead. Reaper was firing blindly, maybe giving them cover.

  Hoping the men in the trucks weren’t looking her way, she pushed open her door and dropped to the ground, crouching behind the steel door as she pulled a pin then lobbed the first grenade behind one of the trucks. An explosion sounded. Smoke rose. Without waiting to see the men’s reactions, she pulled the pin on a second grenade and tossed it behind the second truck.

  Then she raised her Berretta and aimed over the space between the door and the SUV, as men shouted and scrambled away from behind the trucks. She drew a slow, steady breath, held it, and pulled the trigger. Her shot struck one of the thieves in the side.

  A shot sounded from the other side of her vehicle, and she glanced across to see Sammy with the rifle balanced on the window frame as he fired.

  In the distance, the high-pitched whine of sirens sounded. But she kept her gaze ahead, pulling on her training—training she’d never had to use in a live-fire situation during her deployment in the desert. She fired again and again, but her Berretta clicked. Out of bullets. So she ducked inside the SUV for another grenade.

  And suddenly, the firing stopped.

  She peeked
through the windshield. One of the trucks was pulling away, bodies diving for the truck bed. The truck picked up speed for a couple hundred feet, but then brake lights flashed.

  Police cruisers with flashing lights approached. The truck made a screaming U-turn, but now faced the SUV. Sammy raised his rifle and shot into the air. A clear warning they weren’t getting past him.

  Then sirens sounded behind Carly, and she whipped around her head.

  Deputies slammed open doors and hunkered behind them, weapons raised.

  A voice, amplified by a bullhorn, stated, “Drop your weapons and move away from your vehicles.”

  Breathing out her relief, she dropped the grenade into the seat and held up her hands, then turned to look toward the semi.

  Reaper climbed out and dropped straight to the ground, not glancing once toward the police cruisers. In two long strides, he enfolded her inside his arms, lifting her from the ground. His hand gripped the back of her hair. “You don’t listen for shit, woman.”

  Amazingly his gruff, complaining voice calmed her. Carly closed her eyes, hearing the deputies on their loudspeakers, but she figured they wouldn’t fire at a couple hugging. To hell with them. To hell with everyone. Needing what this big man offered, she wrapped herself around him and held on tight.

  Carly sat with her legs hanging over the edge of the back gate of the Expedition, drinking a cup of hot coffee one of the deputies poured from a thermos. He’d seen her shaking and must have thought she was cold. The coffee did help warm her, and her jaw was finally relaxing enough she could take sips. Feeling like a weenie, she admitted to herself and the cute deputy, she’d never been so scared in her entire life.

  The aftermath was all rather surreal. After the pair had been forced to their knees by law enforcement, deputies swarmed the highway, divesting all the combatants of their weapons. Reaper flashed his bounty hunter’s badge, and then had to explain her role before they’d been allowed to stand.

  “So, do all writers assist in shootouts for the sake of research?” the cute deputy drawled.

  Carly snorted and took another sip, happy to be alive. Happy Reaper had made it. Two of the gang hadn’t been so lucky. The one she’d hit was being loaded into an ambulance. She was relieved she hadn’t killed him and took no satisfaction from the news the EMT provided. “That boy’s going to be shitting in a bag for the rest of his life.”

  No, she was glad her life didn’t usually require she make life-and-death choices. She’d just as soon store her Berretta in a box and never wrap her fingers around the grip again.

  “Feds are here.” The deputy tipped his hat before striding away.

  The next hour stretched. She figured the exhaustion gnawing at her body was the result of the letdown of adrenaline. From her seat, she watched as FBI agents and forensics techs scoured the scene. The gang members still on their feet were loaded into a panel truck and driven away.

  Sammy leaned against a police cruiser, his arm in a sling due to his dislocated shoulder, giving his statement to an agent. Reaper stood next to him, his expression set.

  While anyone else looking at him might have thought he had it together, she read the worry in his eyes. After they’d been allowed to move freely, he’d patted down her body to make sure she was okay and given her a hard kiss. Then he’d set her on the open back of his vehicle and wagged a finger in front of her face. “Do not move from this spot.” After that, he’d been with Sammy.

  An action she understood, because he’d be worried about his brother’s disposition. The fact that he’d turned on his friends at the last minute to save their lives was a good thing. So was the fact he was giving up everything he knew about the gang’s criminal activities. Still, he’d be serving some hard time. And jail wouldn’t be a safe place for him, not when he’d informed on his club.

  She looked up to see a set of familiar figures and smiled at their approach.

  Brian Cobb’s wheelchair looked incongruous as he sped past the multiple law enforcement vehicles lined up along the road. Fetch’s burly frame, salt-n-pepper hair and beard, and piercing slate gaze were a comforting sight. She didn’t ask how they’d made it past the Feds. Fetch must have pull in high places.

  Brian rolled up to a stop in front of her. His narrowed gaze searched them before he spoke. “Glad to see you two made it.” A grin stretched across his thin face. “Heard you were badass.”

  She held up a trembling hand. “Not so bad, but at least my ass is still intact.”

  Fetch chuckled and moved closer to give her a bear hug. “How’s my favorite writer?”

  “You did warn me things would be hopping if I rode with Reaper...”

  Leaning back, he gave her sharp-eyed look. “We can give you a lift back.”

  She cut a glance toward Reaper, who was looking right at her.

  His right eye dipped in a slow wink then he turned back to the investigator interviewing Sammy.

  “I think I’ll hang here for a while.” She gave Fetch a little smile.

  One dark eyebrow rose. “That thing we talked about it. You give it any thought?”

  “I’ll let you know,” she said, feeling a flush rise in her cheeks. Fetch was far too observant, and had likely figured out something was going on between her and Reaper. Did the man have to wink? In front of his boss, even.

  “I’m checking with the Feds,” Fetch said. “They’re talking about holding up that truck for their forensics folks to comb over the cab. I’m working on securing the release of the trailer itself. I have another driver coming with a rig to haul it.” He gave her a little salute then walked away.

  Brian gripped his wheels, preparing to go. “Don’t know what all of that was about, but if it has anything to do with you sticking around...” He gave her a grin. “I don’t think Reaper would complain too much either.”

  “Brian...” Putting her hands on her hip, she glared. “You won’t be the first to know.”

  “Of course. Guess I better head back to the van. See you guys.”

  Grateful the men had checked in, she gave him a wave then sat staring into her cup. The coffee had gone cold. Tipping the cup, she emptied the contents on the ground. Two large feet entered her view, and she glanced up to find Reaper standing over her. She shot a glance toward Sammy and saw him being helped into the back of an unmarked black car. “Is he okay?” she asked quietly.

  “He’ll need a good lawyer, but they’ve promised not to put him in general population. Depending on what he can give them so far as the club’s criminal activities go, he may be offered a deal.”

  “That’s good, right?” she asked, looking into his face and noting the creases around his mouth were deeper.

  Reaper’s smile was a little sad. “I told him we’ll keep in better touch. That I’ll visit. I’ll help him anyway I can, including making sure he has the best attorney money can buy. Which means, I’ll be taking on as many of the high-fee bounty jobs I can.”

  “Fetch is working to get the FBI to shake that rig free.”

  “Yeah, but I won’t be behind the wheel.” His gaze locked with hers. “I’m taking you home.”

  Worried he was losing out on money he’d need, she shook her head. “I can catch a ride—Brian can’t have gotten far—”

  He pressed a straight finger against her mouth. “No,” he said, leaning closer. “Dag’s on his way. They’re keeping my vehicle. We’ll have to clear it if you want to keep your bag.”

  “I’m sorry about your Expedition. It’s going to need some work.”

  Shaking his head, he grunted. “My insurance is already through the roof. It’s not your fault. Come on.” He held out his hand.

  Once hers was firmly in his grasp, she let him lead her away, sighing inside, because she wasn’t sure about his mood.

  Dag dropped them at the cabin then snapped a little salute as he backed down the driveway.

  Reaper unlocked the front door and held it for Carly as she crossed his threshold. She’d been quiet on the drive bac
k, for the most part. Chatting with Dag about inconsequential shit, like movies they’d watched and places they’d traveled. Nothing to do with the job. Not a single word about today’s fiasco.

  She’d barely glanced at him, sitting in the back. Maybe because he’d rested his head against the headrest and angled his gaze to watch the forest blur past his window. Ever since he’d watched his brother get handcuffed and led away, he’d felt numb. Again, he’d failed him. Sammy was bound for jail.

  He still couldn’t believe Sammy’s friends had been tied up in the heist. What dumb fucking luck was that? The second he’d seen Sammy’s texts, he’d known, in his gut, that the day wouldn’t end well.

  They’d all nearly died. The thought of what could have happened to Carly made his stomach sour. He remembered how excited she’d been when they’d found the rig, then how she’d gotten more and more nervous along the journey toward Helena. He’d talked her down, had her laughing, and then everything went to shit.

  Thank God, Sammy had been the one to cut her off on the road.

  If the pursuer had been anyone else in that gang, she’d be dead. All the way back to his cabin, he couldn’t erase the picture out of his mind of her lying on the forest floor with a bullet in her chest.

  Then he’d thought about what he would have felt if he’d lived and she hadn’t. Every bit of joy would have been sucked out of him. And how could that be? They’d only known each other a few days. Now the thought of her not being alive, of not being somewhere safe and happy, made his chest ache. Was this what loving a woman felt like?

  Inside the cabin, she dropped her bag on the sofa then looked back at him.

  Her skin was pale, and her left cheek smudged with dirt. Sprinkles of safety glass glittered on her shoulders and in her hair. “You need a shower.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Do I smell that bad?”

  Shaking his head, he walked closer, lifting a finger to brush off a speck of the glass. “You’ve got bits of glass all over you. It won’t cut you, but you don’t want it getting in your eyes.”