Mason:Inked Reapers MC(16)

"We'll figure it out together. One step at a time, though." His eyes  moved over my face and he pushed the hair away from my eyes. "Fuck your  beautiful." He kissed me, pressing his lips against mine. He tasted  sweet, clean, and I lost myself in him for that moment. The  possibilities he laid out seemed real, during that kiss.



When he pulled back and looked down at me, I shook my head. "I don't know."



"Think about it, Lucy." He released me and pushed the door to the room  open. I stepped out of the store room and watched him make his way  through the lounge. Another man, bald and just as scary looking, stood  from a table and followed Mason through the door.



Could I let him try? I didn't want to put anyone else in danger, and if  putting the clubs on opposite sides because of me would hurt anyone, I  wouldn't do it. But I would let myself indulge in the fantasy. For a  little while at least. For one night. Imagining what it would be like to  be on Mason's arm. Not his old lady, or his whore, but his girlfriend-  wife? He talked like he saw a future outside the club, but would he  really be happy? A guy like him didn't know any other way of life, how  would he even begin to fit in regular society? We'd have to move away-  he couldn't stay in the same town as the Reapers and the Disciples would  have his throat, too.



"Nice little fantasy he painted for you." A low voice said from behind  me. I turned slowly to find Sting glaring at me. "You really think that  asshole will pay what you owe? Or that Jayson would even entertain the  idea?" He looked me over, a disgusted curl to his lip as he did so.                       
       
           



       



"Sting, I don't know what you are talking about." I swallowed hard and tried to keep my eyes on him, not show any doubt.



He laughed. A sadistic grating sound. I'd heard it before. The night  Kerri told him he could fuck off. "Right. Jayson has plans for you, so I  wouldn't go getting your hopes up about Mason Day saving your ass." He  walked away, heading toward the back office. If Sting was in the club,  Jayson was probably sitting in the back room.



Jessica looked at me from behind the bar, a worried set of eyes darting  between Sting and I. If he heard as much as he implied, and he told  Jayson, I was in for a world of hurt. But what about Mason, would word  get back to Mason's club?



Just when things started to get brighter, a bigger shit storm headed my way.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN



MASON





Marcus banged his fist on my door bright and early Saturday morning,  waking me up. I didn't need to meet the Disciples for a few more hours  for the next run. Whatever his problem was, it pissed him off enough for  him to nearly rip down my door.



"What's the deal?" I flung open the door to find his scowling face glaring at my door.



"The deal? The deal is I'm hearing shit I don't like." His fat hand shoved my chest and barreled into my room.



I ran my hand over my eyes, trying to get my brain to wake up like the  rest of my body. "Prez, I don't know what you're talking about. Can you  fill me in?" I grabbed the jeans dangling from my dresser and jammed my  legs into them. I had enough on my mind without adding his bullshit to  it.



"I'm talking about Hell's Disciples. I'm hearing shit from Jayson that  you're making goo-goo eyes at one of his girls. His girls, not one of  those whores in the back building." The way he emphasized his statement  put me on edge.



"What the fuck does that mean, his girls?"



"His girl-he wants to make her his old lady." His eyes narrowed, searching my expression.



"If you're talking about Lucy, she's not his old lady. He's basically  holding her hostage." I couldn't help the growl of my voice. The idea of  her being his old lady-shit, his anything-made my stomach turn.



"I don't give a shit!" The boom of his voice nearly rattled the floor.  "This deal with the cartel is worth a fuck of a lot more than some piece  of ass you've been sticking your dick into." He pointed a finger at me.  "Stay the fuck away from that chick."



"So, he'd blow this whole truce over a girl?" I narrowed my eyes this  time. Jayson never showed her anything other than hatred from what she  said, why would he blow everything over her?



"No. He'd show that we are blowing the deal with the cartel and then  we'd lose everything. Do you get it? This club can't survive a war with  those Mexicans." The stench of his morning cigar wafted over to me with  his tirade. It was too damn early for this shit. I noticed his bloodshot  eyes, and the loose spit resting on his beard. I'd seen him pissed  before, but this was more. Worried. He looked rattled and concerned.  Like everything was about to implode, and he couldn't stop it. "Just  stay the fuck away from her. Got it?"



"Yeah, Marcus. I got it." I lifted my hands into the air. With the  condition he was in, there would be no reasoning with him anyway. I'd  have to find another way to see Lucy. Because not seeing Lucy wasn't an  option.



"Good." He jammed his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.  "This cartel shit is giving me heartburn." He ran hand over his chest.  "Bernardo wants a sit down. To go over the runs and how they're being  handled. He'll be here this afternoon. Jayson and his VP will be here.  Since you're running the show on our end, I want your ass in the room,  too."



"You got it." I nodded.



"I don't trust those fucking Disciples." He ran his hand through his  hair again. "This shit about his girl-it's just smoke up my ass. That  man hasn't ever given a fuck about anyone for longer than thirty  seconds. He just doesn't want Reaper dick in Disciple pussy." He gave a  little laugh at that notion. "Just keep it in your pants when you're at  their club. You fuck the girls here." He gave my chest a little shove  with his finger on his way to the door. "Or I'll have Tick cut that shit  off."



After the door slammed closed behind him I let out my breath and  unclenched my fists. Lucy. If Marcus was barging in on me to bitch me  out about her, what had Jayson done to her? She had to get the fuck out  of that clubhouse. Even if it meant running away; I could take care of  her. Although after seeing Marcus' reaction just then, the clubhouse  might not be the safest place to hide her.                       
       
           



       



My door flung open and in walked Tick, wearing a smirk that would normally make me laugh, but that morning I wasn't in the mood.



"What? Don't know how to knock?" I finished pulling my cut on and got my boots.



"What the fuck for? The only chick you're interested in lately lives in  the next town over. In the wrong club house." He lit a smoke and jumped  on my bed, leaning back against the headboard.



"I'm not in the mood." I plucked the cigarette from his lips and took a  healthy drag. "Marcus was just in here. You have anything to do with  that?"



"Right. Cuz I'm all about the club politics." Tick liked everything  about being a MC member, the money, the danger play, the chicks, but  politics? He'd rather saw off his own dick. "What'd he want anyway?"



I handed back the smoke. "Tell me to keep away from Lucy."



"Really? He's made that his business?" He shook his head, slow and sad.



"Says Jayson called him up."



"Jayson called?" He raised an eyebrow.



"I guess some conversations are safe for the cells. Like my sex life." I handed him back the smoke after taking another drag.



"I guess you'll keep it in your pants, then, right?" He gave me a  knowing look. I shoved him back on the bed when he tried to get up, then  left him laughing alone while I walked out.





***





The room had a stale cigarette stench that turned my stomach almost as  much as looking across the table at Jayson and Bernardo. Marcus drummed  his fingers on the table, glaring at Tick, who looked damn confused at  the moment.



"The run that's scheduled for tomorrow?" he asked for the third time.  "You want to change the route, double the load, and not increase the men  on the run?" If I sat closer I could nudge him, get him to chill out.  Bernardo wouldn't take to anyone disrespecting him, and it seemed that  everything was disrespect as far as he was concerned.



Bernardo set his dark eyed glare on Tick. He hadn't said much of  anything throughout the entire meeting. Which, honestly, so far had only  been a bunch of chest thumping biker shit. The thin mustache over his  lips accentuated his full cheeks. Scars from dozens of scuffles covered  his face, giving him an even more pissed off look. His head was a bounty  of thick black hair, all of which was slicked back away from his face.