Devil's Game (Reapers MC #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

you for a year.
    ME: He doesn’t ignore me. It’s complicated. You should see him when we all go out. He’s always watching out for me
    LIAM: No, he guards you. There’s a difference
    I frowned. It
was
complicated. Painter had been prospecting, which meant he wasn’t exactly free. But Liam didn’t know that—I hadn’t told him about the club for some reason, although he knew Dad was a biker. I guess I liked having one person in my life who didn’t see me as the president’s daughter. Hell, in some ways Liam was the only person I could really be myself with. Tonight, though …
    Tonight he was pissing me off.
    Enough.
    ME: I have to go
    I muted my phone, then shoved it in my pocket. Then I grabbed another beer and wandered toward Marie and the other girls, who were laughing over some story she was telling about her old man, Horse. Good music was playing, and as the alcohol warmed me from the inside out, I felt optimistic, despite Liam. What did he know, anyway?
    I fully intended to end the night in Painter’s bed.
    Or on his bike.
    Maybe under a tree?
    Hell, I didn’t care. Not so long as he finally punched my V card and I got my prize, along with a lovely “thank you” for playing. And yeah, I know it’s fucking ridiculous I still had a V card to punch. But Dad wasn’t exactly friendly toward my boyfriends. One of his favorite things to do was show them his guns and talk about the types of damage different bullets could do to the human body.
    Oh, and then there was that hunting accident. Oops.
    For some reason, the men of Coeur d’Alene started avoiding me after
that
one. Now the closest I got to flirting was chatting with Liam, which was pretty pathetic when you considered he lived nearly four hundred miles away.
    Tonight
, I told myself.
Tonight everything changes.
    The men still weren’t back after another half hour, but I didn’t just stand around waiting for Painter. Hanging out with my friends kicked ass. Most of them were old ladies, meaning they were attached in some way to one of the guys in the club. Some were likeme, though … adrift. Maggs, for one. Her man was in prison, so she was on her own.
    There weren’t any kids at the Armory because things would probably get crazy fast. I could already see a few women clumped on the other side of the courtyard just waiting for the wild times to start. Hangaround types, club sluts, sweetbutts. Some were strippers from The Line, the club’s titty bar (and yes, that’s what they called it, so don’t blame me!), and others were girls who just weren’t into settling down. They all had one thing in common, though—they were disposable. I’d grown up with them in the background, and in the past few years I’d woken up to find more than one in our kitchen making breakfast.
    Dad was kind of a slut himself these days.
    Their group didn’t usually mix with ours and we liked it that way. I knew my dad never cheated on my mom, and I knew some of the guys—Marie’s man, Horse, for example—could keep it in their pants. But others slept around. We all saw it. I never quite understood why a woman would put up with that, but I figured that other people’s relationships weren’t really my business.
    Now we heard the thunder of bikes pulling up outside and the brothers started coming in. Dad was first, and I saw him glancing around until his eyes found me. His hard face broke into a smile, the same ice-blue eyes I’d inherited from him flashing with pride. The rest of the guys followed him, and then hoots and whistles rang out as Painter walked in, grinning like crazy.
    God, he was cute. Short, spiky blond hair, sharp cheekbones … His body was lean but strong, and at six feet tall he had a good five inches on me. Didn’t hurt that he’d taken off his shirt, wearing his cut over his bare chest.
    Yum.
    I’d had my arms wrapped tight around that chest more than once when he’d given me a ride home, although it never went past that.
It’s a matter of