Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“That’s one of Reese’s rigs,” Painter said. “It’s them.”
The Wrangler pulled to a stop in front of the house, and the two Reaper prospects jumped out, both of them carrying guns. Right behind them was London. Not the version of her that I knew, but a woman you wouldn’t want to mess with.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice clipped.
“Duck is dead,” Painter said, sounding as exhausted as I felt. “So is Marsh—he used to be the president in Hallies Falls and he’s the one who attacked Gage. Long fuckin’ story. His sister, Talia, is inside. I don’t know if she’s dead or not. The bitch called herself Deanna, and the whole thing was a setup. I didn’t recognize her with the dark skin and the kinky hair. I mean, she looked like a black chick. Hell of a disguise, but when I met her five years ago she was definitely white. No fuckin’ idea how she pulled that off.”
“I’ll go check on her,” one of the prospects said. I tried to remember his name, but drew a blank. Everything seemed blank.
Shock.
“Mellie, are you hurt?” Loni asked, coming up to us. Her voice was softer now, gentler. I shook my head, thankful to have Painter holding me up.
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “But I think I’m a murderer now. Or maybe not. Either way I need a shower.”
Loni and Painter shared a look, and I was struck again by how hard her face was. Tough. Loni had layers I’d never seen before . . . Looking at her now, I could see her as a badass.
“Boonie is on his way,” London said quietly. “Reese and the others, too. We’ll handle this. Painter, can you take her down to the road, drive her out to our place? You can get cleaned up there, then go home to Izzy.”
“I can stay and help you,” he said. She shook her head.
“No, Mellie and Izzy need you more right now. I’ll keep Reese posted—I’m sure he’ll want to talk as soon as he gets back. Go get cleaned up. It’ll be fine, I promise.”
God, I hoped she was right.
PAINTER
We buried Duck that night.
Cremated him, actually. Reese and Boonie talked it over, and the verdict was that all the bodies needed to disappear, along with all the evidence. No way we’d be able to get a real death certificate for him, let alone bury him in a cemetery.
We took him and the others out into the forest and burned them, then buried them in two separate places, Talia and Marsh sharing an unmarked grave. We rolled a big rock across Duck’s, though, pouring out a bottle of whiskey over it for good measure.
Then we took his colors back to the clubhouse and hung them on the wall in the chapel.
We figured he’d understand.
EPILOGUE
TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER
MELANIE
I lifted my arms, trying to stretch out my back. I could definitely tell I was older with this pregnancy—things were creaking that hadn’t creaked with Isabella. Not only that, I had a fraction of the energy.
Only two more weeks, then you get your body back again.
Well, except for the midnight feedings, lack of sleep, and general volume of poop to clean up. Grabbing my tablet, I walked into the living room, settling down on the couch. Izzy was over at Reese and London’s place. Painter was working on a mural in the baby’s room. It was a boy. I was pretty sure Painter already had a tiny baby Reapers cut made up for him. He’d bought him a little motorcycle ride-on toy, too. I kept pointing out that we had a good year before the kid would be big enough to use it, but Painter didn’t care. He had baby fever. Seriously. I’d even caught him reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting and taking notes.
We had a little intervention after that.
Sitting down, I flipped through the local headlines online. There was a new pizza place going in on Sherman Avenue. The public safety levy had passed, but the fund-raising campaign for the Fourth of July fireworks show was behind in their goals. A car had been found in the lake, and human remains were inside—they were in the process of identifying the body, but the cops didn’t suspect foul play. The Post Falls Police Department had gotten a new police dog, and her name was Peaches.
The baby started to kick, and I set down the tablet, rubbing my belly slowly, admiring my diamond solitaire wedding ring set. I hadn’t wanted anything fancy, but Painter insisted I deserved the real deal.
Now that his son was beating the crap out of my kidneys, I sort of had to agree.
“How’s it going in there?” I asked the kid. “You about ready to come out and meet us?”
He kicked me again, harder. Persistent little shit. Rolling onto my side, I closed my eyes, drifting.