Eli’s Triumph Read online Joanna Wylde (Reapers MC #6.7)

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Reapers MC Series by Joanna Wylde
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
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“Okay,” Gus said, and I heard the resignation in his voice. “So, it was my birthday party that night. Everyone was down at the Starkwood. I’d spent my afternoon trying to figure out some paperwork. Had a few drinks along the way. Probably a few more than I realized. And, yeah, I know I shouldn’t drink and drive. If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t since that night.”

He paused, taking another sip of coffee.

“So, my doorbell rang. It was Mia Eirwood, carrying her baby. Her husband, Kevin, locked them out of the house. No diaper bag, no cell phone. Nothing. That guy…” Gus shook his head. “That guy was human garbage. And Mia was a sweet little thing. Busted ass working to pay all their bills, all the while Kevin was fucking around on her. He was cooking meth out there, too. Someone needed to do something about him.”

“You don’t get to be the hero in this story,” I said, my voice cold. Gus gave a bark of laughter.

“Oh, I’m aware,” he said. “And if I’d been sober, it would have played out different. But that baby was all red from crying, and there was this bruise just starting to form on Mia’s neck. I just kept thinking that the next time, he might kill her. Or that lab of his might blow up. Touch off a fire that’d destroy all our homes. Something bad was gonna happen sooner or later. Figured it’d be best if I made him go away. So, I did. I gave her one of those disposable cell phones and told her to call Gage. Said he’d take care of her. Make sure she had protection. That kind of thing.”

“Did she know what you were planning?” I asked, remembering the gossip. People had whispered that she’d been sleeping with Eli. That they’d plotted the murder together. But there hadn’t been any evidence, and Eli’s plea bargain had specifically stipulated that he’d acted alone.

Last I heard, she’d moved to California.

“Naw, she was just a kid,” Gus said. “Clueless. So, I grabbed my gun and took the pickup over to his place. Figured I’d kill him and then stash the body somewhere before hitting the party.”

Gus’s voice was so casual as he talked about stashing a body. Scary casual, as if he were talking about a bag of recyclables. Not a person. Eli’s hand tightened on my shoulder, reminding me that I wasn’t alone.

“I already told you I was drunk,” Gus continued. His eyes were fixed on the wall across from him. Maybe a part of him had to pretend that he was alone to say these things out loud.

“Wasn’t thinking it through, obviously. Everything went just fine until I ran the truck off the road. Hit my head pretty good in the process, which didn’t help. Couldn’t get the truck out of the ditch, so I called Gage. He got Eli and sent him and Pipes to deal with it. It’s hard to remember the exact order of everything.”

“Gus was drunk,” Eli said flatly. “And he definitely had a concussion. We used Pipes’ big diesel to pull the truck out of the ditch. I sent Pipes and Gus back to the party—wanted to establish at least a partial alibi—and then I drove the pickup back to the house. Parked it in the shed. The plan was for me to ride Gus’s Harley back to the bar. I’d just pulled out of the driveway when a sheriff’s deputy pulled me over.”

“I was an idiot,” Gus said quietly. “About everything. And sloppy. Didn’t even notice an extra car in the Eirwood’s driveway. There was someone inside the house besides just Kevin. Whoever it was saw the whole thing. Apparently, they ransacked the house afterward. About an hour later, someone made an anonymous call to the cops to report what’d happened. You probably remember that part from the appeal.”

“I do remember it,” I said quietly. “Because the sheriff’s deputy had no reason to pull Eli over. He just assumed he was involved because he’s a biker.”

“Exactly,” said Eli. “But we didn’t know that until a lot later.”

“People are too damned prejudiced,” Gus muttered. I shot him a dirty look.

“You actually committed this particular crime, Gus,” I reminded him. “And then Eli went to prison for it. Not you.”

Eli straightened and then stepped around the table to sit down facing me. I reached my hand out toward him, and he took it.

“I made a choice,” Eli said quietly. “Washington has a three strikes law, and Gus already had two. They’d have put him away for life. Worst case, we knew I’d still be eligible for parole.”

“The lawyers said the appeal was strong,” Gus added defensively. “The deputy claimed that he’d stopped Eli based on that 911 call, but they couldn’t produce a witness or a recording. Sure as shit didn’t have a warrant. I knew we’d get Eli out eventually.”


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