The Fallen Reapers MC Book 2: Forgiving Raven

RAVEN

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, and rub my palms against the cuffs of my sweater.

“What can I get you? The usual?” I ask, forcing a smile to hide my unease.

“No, not tonight. But thanks for asking. We’re not drinking,” he replies.

“Oh.” I glance past him and feel a twinge of discomfort when I see his friends staring back at me. “So, what brings you here then?”

Lockwood pulls out his phone and shows me a cropped image of a tattoo that sends a chill down my spine.

“We’re looking for this. That’s why we’ve been coming here so often. Have you seen anyone with this tattoo?”

I force myself to look at the image, even though I know it all too well.

“I haven’t seen it,” I lie.

Lockwood puts his phone back in his pocket and nods.

“If you do see it, let us know, okay?”

“Sure,” I reply, tapping the underside of the bar nervously. “What does it mean?” I ask, trying to gauge how much he knows.

“It’s not important,” Lockwood says, lying just as I did. I know how significant that tattoo is.

“We’re looking for the person who has it. A friend suggested we might find them here at the Diggs.”

“Is this person a man or a woman?” I ask, pushing for more information. I need to know if they’re looking for me.

“Female,” Lockwood replies without hesitation.

I nod, pretending to be clueless. Inside, I’m panicking, wondering why they’re looking for me.

They’re not with the Serpents. I know that much. If the gang wanted to check on me, they would do it themselves. They know my face as well as I know theirs.

Whatever Lockwood wants from me, he can find it somewhere else. Preferably from someone who’s actually part of the gang that the tattoo represents.

I can’t afford to trust him. There’s too much at stake if I make another mistake.

“I’ll keep an eye out. I hope you find who you’re looking for,” I say, lying once again.

“Me too,” Lockwood replies, glancing back at his friends before looking at me again.

“Listen, this person could be dangerous. If you see her, don’t approach her. I’ll give you my number just in case.”

He takes out his phone again and extends his hand to me.

I reach into my purse under the counter and hand him my phone, telling myself it’s just to maintain my cover, not because I want his number. That’s just another lie.

“Call me anytime,” he says. “It doesn’t matter if it’s one in the morning or the middle of the day.”

Before he leaves, he looks at me again. “And thank you, Raven. If you ever need anything, you can call me.”

His words send a flutter through my stomach. It’s been a long time since I had someone I could rely on.

I have no doubt that Lockwood would keep his word and help me if I needed it…and that gives me a glimmer of hope.

For the next few hours, I’m alone behind the bar. The regulars keep me busy, so I don’t have much time to look up.

But every now and then, I steal a glance at Lockwood and find him already looking at me.

“Got any of that black licorice stuff?” a familiar voice asks.

I glance over my shoulder as I mix another drink. The sound of ice cubes clinking against the steel shaker is a welcome distraction from the constant chatter and noise.

“Jager, Mr. West?”

“That’ll do. I don’t want to be seeing straight by last call. Wife left me last night.”

He’s been saying that ever since I started working here—four years ago.

I feel for him, though. His wife did leave him, just like the owner of this bar’s wife left him. He just can’t seem to quit drinking.

I always feel a pang of guilt when I serve customers like him. It feels like I’m enabling him.

But if he didn’t get his booze here, he’d just drive into town and buy a six-pack.

I set his drink in front of him and watch as he downs it in one gulp.

I have to give Mr. West credit for that. He can stomach the harshest liquors that would make me sick.

The door to the Diggs swings open and slams against the wall. I barely flinch, unlike some of the people at the nearest booth.

The group—the assholes, as I’ve come to think of them—have been doing this for as long as I can remember.

In a way, I’ve grown to appreciate the loud noise. It signals the end of happy hour and the start of hell hour.

As I pick up a tray to start my rounds, I make sure to not bend at the waist like I did once before.

The last time, I was met with a lewd stare from the leader of their little group. And more than I’d like to remember.

Once, he even offered me—the bartender—a free drink if I’d meet him in the bathroom and ‘let him see if my ass was real’.

I was holding a tray of empty beer bottles at the time. I’ve never been so tempted to throw one.

“Let the fun begin,” I mutter to myself, bracing myself to tell the assholes that they won’t be getting what they want for the first time ever.

LOCKWOOD

“Something’s off.”

Switch narrows his eyes in Raven’s direction, and I follow his gaze. She’s serving customers at the bar, a polite smile on her face.

The Reapers’ enforcer is convinced she’s hiding something.

Blade looks at her too, his expression unimpressed.

“What’s got you all worked up? The way she’s doing her job or the way she’s pouring drinks? I thought Silver and Lock already cleared her.”

Grave hides his smirk behind his drink in the corner of the booth.

My time at the Diggs has given me a crash course on the hierarchy of the Reapers. Blade’s words always carry a sting. Whether that’s a good or bad thing is up to interpretation.

Silver is their go-to guy for information, always reliable and quick. Switch is a mystery, and his temper is a ticking time bomb.

“Can’t help but notice she’s watching me,” Switch grumbles.

“Hmm,” the SA responds. “I can guarantee she’s not interested in your face, Switch. She’s got her sights set on the founder.”

Silver glances at me over his beer and quickly corrects himself at my stern look.

“Sorry, she’s got her sights on Lock.”

A series of forced coughs come from his corner.

Cough. “The.” Cough. “Fit.” Cough. “Ass.”

I roll my eyes and shift my attention back to Raven. Simultaneously, the entrance to the Diggs becomes noticeably louder. Unlike her usual warm welcome, she doesn’t greet the new group of guys.

I study her posture—the rigidity in her movements as she reaches behind the counter, the annoyance in her eyes, the tight clench of her jaw—as they make their way to the back of the bar. She begins a routine I’ve seen before and my gaze wanders.

The group that’s already getting rowdy is familiar. They were in the same booth last week. Whatever it is that she dislikes about them, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

“Here’s something I don’t understand,” the Reapers’ prospect suddenly chimes in. “If we know that the guys hired by the gang wear their mark, they’re obviously affiliated. Why don’t we just go find them?”

Locking eyes with Slayer, Grave asks calmly, “Did that guy we interrogated happen to tell you where they were?”

“No—”

“And did any of the ranking patches mention who we’re looking for in the first place?”

Slayer blanches. “You did, Veep.”

“I showed you what to look out for, didn’t say who,” Grave replies coolly.

Silver whistles under his breath. “Listening in on a meeting. That’s a fine-worthy offense.”

“That’s an ass-kicking worthy offense,” Switch interjects. The enforcer’s features then twist into a dark grin. “A hundred and fifty in fines, prospect, or a round in the ring with me or Crush.”

“Shit.” Slayer pulls out a wad of cash from his jeans pocket. “I’ll take the fine. Hospital bill would be double this after a round with either of you.”

“Smart move, Prospect. Smart move,” Crush murmurs.

“We won’t be here much longer,” Grave says. “Prez said he was going to show.”

About time, too. I’ve been in McDermott a whole week and haven’t met him yet. I may not know every detail, but I’m pretty sure the president of the club should be more involved.

Raven moves past our table as Silver sends the prospect outside. She glances at me, a subtle look that could mean anything. Switch’s words echo in my mind.

I recall our conversation at the bar. She’d seemed nervous, and I’d assumed it was because of me. From our first conversation, her voice had become slightly higher and breathier. But now, I wonder if that’s how people act when they’re hiding something.

Raven turns to another table and catches my steady gaze. Her smile takes my breath away—and any chance of me dwelling on Switch’s words. There’s no hint of deceit in her hazel eyes, no malice in her smile. There is desire. Something I intend to explore.

“Hey! Bar wench!”

“Here we go.” Grave mutters as my attention snaps to the group in the booth.

Anger surges within me as I glare at the jerk who spoke. He waves at Raven until she stops what she’s doing to take their orders. Whatever she says clearly pisses off the whole group because more profanity spills from his mouth. Shaking her head, Raven turns to leave.

That’s when he grabs her arm and yanks her back, and I see red. He was going to learn a lesson tonight. I had planned to handle it privately outside, but not anymore. He’ll be an example for the rest of the bar, because if I ever hear a bastard talk to her like that again, I won’t hesitate.

Before he sees me coming, I’m on him. My fist connects with his mouth, leaving a satisfying crunch in its wake. His friends try to intervene, but the Reapers’ enforcer holds them back. For once, I’m grateful to have backup, allowing me to focus all my energy on teaching this asshole a lesson for daring to touch Raven in my presence.

His face is a bloody, bruised mess by the time I throw him out of the bar.

Raven waits by the door and leads me to the back office. She pulls out a first aid kit and fusses over my bruised knuckles.

“I’m so sorry, Lockwood. That’s the first time he’s put his hands on me.”

“And the last,” I snap.

Ignoring the tape she pulls out for my hands, I trap her against the wall, my palms flat against the smooth surface. The adrenaline from the fight has my pulse racing and my hands shaking. In the past, I’d welcomed the rush because it made me better at my job. Now, it’s terrifying with her delicate body pressed against me.

“I’ll be here from now on,” I rasp. “If that punk comes back, he’ll learn his lesson all over again.”

She nods at me, her eyes wide with shock. I’m about to back off, leave the room and cool down outside, but a hitch in her breath as I lean in changes everything.

I capture her mouth with mine, our lips crashing together with unrestrained force. I thrust my tongue past her lips and groan as I finally get to taste her. Sweet, minty fresh, and undeniably her. The tension I’ve been trying to ignore between us tightens until it just seems to implode, leaving nothing to hold me back. I press my body harder into hers, craving the feel of her soft curves against me.

My hands instinctively find their way to her backside, and I can’t help but groan at the sensation, pressing her against my arousal. She gasps in response, and I delve deeper, ready to lose myself in her.

“Damn, Raven,” I groan out. Her hands cling to my waist, pulling me closer, even though there’s no space left between us.

Except for our clothes.

The thought sends a jolt through my jeans. “I’ve been aching to touch you since the moment we met,” I confess, my voice strained. “Tell me to leave now, or I’m going to make love to you right here.”

Her soft whimper stirs something within me. I reach for the hem of her shirt, ready to remove it, when her voice halts me.

“Wait,” she says, her hands on my chest, pushing me back.

I force myself to stop. “What’s wrong?”

“I… It’s just—we barely know each other, Lockwood.”

Her hesitation is like a bucket of ice water on my desire. Damn, I moved too fast. I step back, shaking my head.

“You’re right. I apologize, must be the adrenaline.”

What a load of crap.

She looks up at me, her lips still swollen from our kisses. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t want to…”

“You don’t have to explain, Raven. I understand. I should get back to the Reapers.” What I really need is to leave this town before I lose myself. But that doesn’t feel right. I start to leave but glance back at her. “I meant what I said earlier. I’ll protect you.”

She nods, a faint smile on her face. “Thank you, Lockwood.”

I force myself back into the booth, my body protesting. Grave is the only one who looks my way, snapping me out of my thoughts. Years of training to control myself, all undone by one kiss from Raven.

I gather myself, and the bar noise returns to normal. I watch Raven move from table to table.

It’s not until she makes the last call that things go south.

Silver whistles for her, pointing at the empty pitcher. She’s all nerves when she gets to the table, spilling beer over the rim.

Our eyes meet for a moment before she quickly looks away. Something’s off. This is more than just nerves.

Switch leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, watching her. I notice the red flags too.

Suddenly, the doors to the Diggs burst open and Raven flinches. The pitcher teeters off the table, soaking her white shirt as she tries to catch it.

I stand up to shield her from the others as her shirt becomes transparent, but a dark mark on her inner elbow catches my eye. My mind races. It can’t be…

“Damn it.” Silver mutters as I grab Raven’s arm, pulling up her sleeve to see the tattoo.

“Looks like you finally found her,” a new voice grates from behind me.

The moment the Fallen Reapers’ president speaks, everyone starts moving. It’s clear he’s livid, and by the end of the night, someone’s going to pay.

He glances at Raven’s arm and his eyes darken.

“Let’s take this outside, Reapers.”