Eli’s Triumph Read online Joanna Wylde (Reapers MC #6.7)

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Reapers MC Series by Joanna Wylde
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
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I couldn’t remember the last time we’d actually played here. It’d been a long time. The darts and the board were still here, though.

Eli reached to the top of the shelf and grabbed an old shoe box. He opened it and pulled out a dart, handing it to me.

“What are we playing for?” I asked, stepping up to the silver duct tape that marked our line on the floor. Raising my hand, I sighted carefully on the bullseye. This was going to be a tough game, I realized. There was just enough light to see the target clearly, but not quite enough to see it well…

Oh. And I was still fairly drunk.

That probably wasn’t going to help.

Eli hadn’t answered the question, so I decided to ignore him and focus on my game instead. I took a deep breath, pulled back my hand just the slightest, and—

“How about a kiss?” he asked, his voice loud in my ear. The dart flew off to the left, bouncing off the concrete wall next to the target with a clang.

Sabotaging motherfucker.

“That one shouldn’t count,” I protested.

“Of course, it counts,” Eli said. He used one of his big arms to sweep me to the side. Now, it was his turn to step up to the line.

“You know the rules,” he said, radiating smugness.

“The only rule is that we don’t tell on each other,” I said, trying to glare at him. Hard to glare when all you wanted to do was laugh, though. “Everything else is fair game.”

“There’s your answer,” he replied, shooting me a grin. He raised his hand to throw. On a wild impulse, I jumped at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and smashing my mouth into his.

Eli swayed, dropping the dart as he wrapped his arms around me. I ducked down, sliding out from under him, laughing. I staggered backward, nearly tripping over the chair in the process.

“What the fuck, Peaches?”

This struck me as incredibly funny, which made me laugh even harder. So hard that I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.

“I wish… I wish you could see the look…on your face,” I finally managed to gasp out, although it took a few tries. “And my dart is closer to the target than yours is. That means I’m first.”

“Never gonna happen,” he said, and while the words were angry, his tone was teasing. Eli was having a good time, I realized. Both of us were. “That doesn’t count as a throw. Nice try, but your timing was off.”

I raised a finger, wagging it at him while making little tch-tch-tch noises. “The dart was in your hand. You raised your hand to throw, and then you released the dart into the air. That’s a throw.”

“No,” he said. “You attacked me. Without provocation, I might add—” I snorted. “I dropped the dart as a direct result of that attack. That’s a foul. Doesn’t count.”

“Only if you’re following some set of rules,” I pointed out. “I’d like to remind you that our only rule is that we don’t tell on each other. Here’s the good news, I wasn’t planning to tell everyone about your shitty throw. But it definitely counts.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay. You can go first.”

I grabbed another dart, then stepped back to the line. Obviously, Eli was planning retaliation. I tried to watch him, but he moved behind me.

The back of my neck prickled like I was being stalked by a tiger.

“Don’t worry,” he said as I tried to aim.

“About you? Never.”

Except I was worried. Because I could feel him back there. Lurking. Waiting to pounce. Just focus on the target. He’s playing mind games with you.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to concentrate. The bass from the party was a dim thump in the distance. Occasionally, a laugh or a shout could be heard.

The only thing I couldn’t hear was Eli. Those big feet of his were like skis. No way could he move without making some noise, right? Except Eli was very sneaky…

Spinning around, I found him leaning against one of the shelves, a good six feet away. This time, he wagged his finger at me.

“Paranoia is a sign of a guilty conscience,” he said, offering a shit-eating grin. I took a minute to consider throwing the dart at him. It’d be satisfying, no question. But he was trying to get a rise out of me. I didn’t want to reward that kind of behavior.

I turned toward the board again, raised my hand, and then screamed as Eli’s arms came around me from behind. One landed near my waist while the other crossed my chest, immobilizing my arms in the process.

“Bastard!” I shrieked, trying to sound outraged. But he’d lifted me, and now we were spinning around. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had spun me around like that. I’d forgotten how much fun it was.



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