Part 4

If you’re new to this serial, you can find part 1 right HERE


Phantom starred into the coldest eyes he had ever seen, and he had met his fair share of killers through the years. Hell, he saw one in the mirror every morning.

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Damn straight, I would.”

Phantom took a deep breath and held it. Fuck, this woman was infuriating. Maybe a few days starving down here would make her talk. “I’m not going to rape you.” His voice shook with anger. He had tried playing it nice, and she had hurt Wolf. He could forgive much, but not that. No one hurt his brothers, and no one put a hand on Wolf. Ever.

“I would be more inclined to believe you if your cock wasn’t pushed into my back.”

Fuck. He pushed away from her and took three quick steps back, out of her reach. As soon as she was free from him, she turned and put a few more steps between them.

“Fighting, the smell of leather and a firm sexy body trapped under me,” he shrugged, “I’m hot-blooded after all.” He fished the handcuff keys from his front pocket and tossed them on the bed. “But I prefer my women to be less…” He ran his eyes up and down her body. Fuck she was hot. He usually went for the submissive kind. He liked them on their knees, ready to worship him. But this one? He could see the fun in wrestling her on a bed, fighting to get her submission.

“What? Mindless zombies with no thoughts of their own? I can see how that would make it easier for you. Not having to actually speak two whole sentences and all.”

Phantom crossed his arms and ignored her barb. She stood as far away from him as the room allowed. She hadn’t made a move towards the keys, probably because that would mean trapping herself between the wall and the bed to reach them. She looked wary. Like she expected an attack every second. But her eyes burned with a slow fire, promising retribution for every pain he might inflict.

He left and locked the door behind him. What the fuck had he gotten himself into. He had never met a woman like Jenny Reaper, and he wasn’t sure he really enjoyed the experience. The only women he dealt with were those who hung around the clubhouse, and Jenny Reaper was as far from those as she could be. Instead of soft curves, she was all hard muscles and lines. She didn’t wear makeup, and up close, he could see small scars marking her face. White lines in the skin around her mouth from split lips. Lines through her eyebrows. Her nose wasn’t straight, and it looked like an old break hadn’t been set correctly. He was sure that if he got her naked, he would find all sorts of delicious scars all over her body. The thought of licking them made his cock pulse, and he leaned against the wall. But it wasn’t just the thought of her body that made him hard. She had guts and a fire burning hot inside her. She had faced two big, armed bikers on their home turf and not even blinked. She didn’t follow any of the rules, and she didn’t seem to care about the consequences. In fact, until she thought he would rape her, she had seemed stone cold, even though she could have been facing a beating. Fuck. He needed to get this woman out of his head long enough to figure out how the hell he could handle the cluster-fuck that had happened. And he still hadn’t gotten his coffee.

He went up to the kitchen where Mouse was finishing stitching Wolf together.

“Kid, get the saddlebags from the bike in the garage and bring them to my office.” Maybe her stuff could give him some answers.

“What’s the damage?” he asked and looked closer at Mouse’s handiwork.

“Nine stitches. It’s not that deep, and he doesn’t seem to have a concussion, though no bike for two days.”

Wolf growled, and Mouse twitched at the sound. Hence the name Mouse. Mouse actually was a doctor but lost his license when he was discovered to help patch up bikers in his free time. The club took him in, and other than putting them all back together when needed, he was a damn good fighter.

“Wolf, stop scaring Mouse. And when you’re done being put together again, come to my office.”

Phantom went to his office and relaxed into his chair. A quick search of the name Jenny Reaper online gave him nothing useful whatsoever. 

A knock on the door snapped him out of his musings, and Kid came in with the saddlebags.

“Where do you want them, boss?”

“Just on the floor is fine.”

Kid placed the bags on the floor at the end of the desk just as Wolf walked inside. He closed the door and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk.

“How’s the head?”

“Feels like someone smashed it with a mug.” Wolf shrugged before turning to Kid, still waiting to be dismissed. “Kid, go take a few pictures of her bike for me.” Kid opened his mouth but closed it again and took the phone.

“Pictures?” Phantom asked once Kid was gone.

“There’s something about her bike that seems familiar. I’m going to send it to a few guys I know. Maybe they will recognize it.”

“It’s a custom build. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Phantom leaned down, snagged the nearest bag, and went through it. “We need to figure out what to do with our house guest.” The bag didn’t hold more than a few changes of clothes and a small bag with toiletries. He grabbed the other one and opened it. The only content was a pair of black soft-soled boots, black pants, a black long-sleeved t-shirt, a black sweater, and a black knit cap. He took out the content and found a small phone tucked into a pocket. He pulled it out and turned it on. 

“Shouldn’t be that hard. Slap her around a bit, then send her on her way.”

Phantom frowned at the phone, only half listening to what Wolf was saying. It was a burner phone, and no numbers were coded into it. And as far as he could see, there had been no calls from it ever.

“Are you listening to me?” Wolf’s growl pulled him back to the conversation.

“Yeah, just, does this seem weird to you? She has three sets of clothes, a burner phone, and a set of all black clothes.”

Before Wolf could answer, Kid walked in and handed over Wolf’s phone. Wolf tapped around on it a few times before putting it down on the desk. “Okay, pictures sent.”

They sat in silence, looking at the stack of black clothes. Phantom didn’t like this. Something was off, way off, and he did not need that kind of trouble, not right now. They had a big run in two days. Moving the diamonds to the buyer. They did not need any extra attention thrown their way.

Wolf’s phone chimed, and Wolf gave it a look before handing it to Phantom.

Death’s bike. Stolen 10 years ago. Was all the message said, but it was enough. Phantom’s stomach soured as he met Wolf’s eyes.

“Well, fuck,” Wolf said in his growly voice.

Phantom knew it would be a bad day as soon as he heard that fucking bike. He pulled out his own phone and dialed a number he used very rarely.

“Phantom? You gotten in trouble, boy?” a dark voice answered, and Phantom swallowed before speaking. There were very few people in the world that scared him. Death was one of them.

“A woman arrived at my door this morning, calls herself Jenny Reaper.”

“Name means nothing to me.”

“She’s riding your bike.”

The other end of the line went silent, and for a second Phantom thought, he might have lost the call.

“I have some business to finish up, but I’ll be at your place in a week, maybe two. Keep her put, and if anything happens to her, I’ll hold all of you personally responsible.”

The call went dead, and Phantom stared at the phone, not sure what the hell to say.

“Death’s coming here? Fuck.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Death was the fucking president of Sons of war. Not just a chapter but the whole fucking clan. He was mean, evil, and had a temper worse than a fucking grizzly bear protecting its cubs.

Published by Tea Spangsberg

Tea is an Author who claims to be a Viking, but in reality she would suck at it as she get terribly seasick.

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