Chapter 4: No Easy Victory

REAPER I had a problem, and unfortunately, the problem had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a mouth that should require a permit. Widowmaker had bypassed my blockade, reached her destination first, completed her delivery, and ridden away with that infuriating smile. Diesel had been laughing for three straight minutes. “If you make one more sound. I’ll assign you latrine duty for a month.” I warned him as we returned to Raven’s Blood. “I’m laughing at the situation, brother, not you.” He said as he wiped his eyes. “That distinction won’t save you.” I said. “I think the situation has a name.” Griffin said as he rode beside us, looking far too pleased. “Don’t.” I said. “Widowmaker.” He said. I considered running them both off the road, but replacing my road captain and vice president would involve more paperwork than I could tolerate. By the time we reached the clubhouse, I’d decided Widowmaker needed a lesson. Not because she was a woman or because she’d embarrassed me, although Diesel’s amusement made the second reason increasingly tempting. She’d proved she could outmaneuver a blockade. Fine. I respected skill, even when it belonged to someone who made my blood pressure climb. I wanted to know whether she could maintain that performance when the challenge was direct, controlled, and impossible to blame on an alternate route. I found Diesel in the garage. “Arrange a riding contest.” I said. “Did you say contest?” He asked as he stopped cleaning his helmet. “Your hearing is fine.” I said. “I thought the blonde had finally broken you.” He said. “Would you like to participate with a broken nose?” I asked. “There he is.” He grinned. I explained the conditions: a marked course with tight turns, controlled braking, and an endurance loop along approved service roads. No dangerous stunts, traffic weaving, or interference from either club. The winner earned bragging rights and proof of their riding ability. I had a rider in mind. Maddox was one of our best, with years of experience, excellent balance, and a competitive streak that made him unbearable during poker nights. He could ride circles around most men and hated losing. If Widowmaker accepted, Maddox would give her a fair contest. If she refused, Diesel could stop theorizing about my fascination with a rival president. “What happens if she wins?” Griffin asked. “She won't.” I said. “That wasn't my question.” He said. “Ask a better one.” I said. “She'll probably accept just to annoy you.” He said as he shook his head and I paused. Unfortunately, he had a point. WIDOW When Reaper’s invitation arrived, I was in the garage arguing with Razor about whether her motorcycle needed a new exhaust or whether she simply wanted to spend somebody else’s money. “It improves performance.” She insisted. “It improves noise. You already sound like a lawn mower having a personal crisis.” I said. Viper burst out laughing and my phone buzzed, and I checked the message. Raven’s Blood wanted a controlled riding contest on a disused training track outside town. Reaper had chosen Maddox and proposed tight turns, braking, and an endurance loop. I read it twice before looking up. “Our favorite control enthusiast wants to play games.” I said. “What kind?” Storm asked as she wiped her hands. “The kind where he expects me to refuse so he can tell everyone I’m afraid of losing.” I said as I leaned back against the bench casually. “Are you accepting?” Viper asked as she leaned over my shoulder. “Obviously.” I said. “I like your thinking.” Razor grinned. “Reaper won’t.” I said. “Won’t what?” She asked. “Like my thinking.” I said. “That’s probably why you get along so well.” Viper said as she patted my shoulder. “We don’t get along.” I said. “Of course not. You just keep finding reasons to meet.” She said. “I also keep considering murder, but nobody’s suggesting I have a crush on a shovel.” I said. Storm laughed so hard she had to sit down and I sent Reaper a reply. Widow: Accepted. Try not to cry if your boy loses. His response arrived almost immediately. Reaper: Maddox doesn't lose. Widow: That's adorable. Does he have a certificate? Reaper: Tomorrow. Two o'clock. Don't be late. Widow: I'll try to control my excitement. I put my phone away and returned to the motorcycle. The contest wasn't about proving women could ride as well as men. My women had been doing that for years, and anyone who needed convincing could watch us work. This was about a rival president trying to turn a territorial dispute into a public test of authority. I intended to give him a demonstration he wouldn't forget. The following afternoon, the training track was crowded when we arrived. Raven’s Blood gathered near the starting area, while the Blackwidows parked opposite. The course had been inspected, and both clubs agreed to keep things controlled. Maddox stood beside his motorcycle, looking confident enough to sell tickets to his own victory. Reaper waited with Griffin and Diesel. “You’re late.” Reaper said. “It’s one fifty-eight.” I said as I checked my watch. “You’re supposed to be ready before two.” He said. “And you’re supposed to be charming, yet here we are.” I said. Diesel turned away, coughing suspiciously. “I hope you’re ready, Widowmaker.” Maddox said as he stepped forward. “For a motorcycle contest or a lecture about your feelings?” I asked and his grin faltered. “I love this already.” Viper whispered. “Each rider completes the same course. Fastest clean time wins, but dangerous maneuvers or interference mean disqualification.” Reaper announced as he raised a hand. “Agreed.” I said. We inspected the course, which included tight turns around cones, controlled braking, a narrow slalom, and an endurance loop along the service road. Precision mattered more than speed, since pushing too hard could cost valuable seconds correcting mistakes. “Still confident?” Reaper asked as he looked at me. “Not particularly. I was hoping the cones would be bigger.” I said. Griffin laughed, earning a warning look from Reaper before he signaled for the contest to begin. Maddox rode first, and I wasn't going to pretend he wasn't good. He handled the slalom smoothly, braked cleanly, and carried speed through the bends without losing control. His endurance loop was consistent, earning cheers from Raven's Blood when he crossed the finish line. His time was strong, and Reaper looked satisfied. I tightened my gloves, climbed onto my motorcycle, and settled into the familiar rumble of the engine. I wasn't interested in showing off, only in delivering a clean run. When the signal came, I accelerated through the cones, shifted my weight around the tight turns, and braked precisely at the marked point before entering the slalom without clipping anything. The endurance loop demanded patience, so I maintained my pace and concentrated on the return bends, where careless riders lost control. When I crossed the finish line, the official checked the results twice before looking at Reaper. “Something wrong?” I asked. “No. Your time is faster.” He said and the track fell silent. “SHE BEAT HIM!” Viper screamed. The Blackwidows erupted into cheers as Razor chanted my nickname and Havoc gave Maddox a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. It happens to the best of us.” Havoc told him. “I took the corners cleanly.” Maddox said as he studied the timing sheet. “You did. You just braked too early on the final return bend.” I said. “You’re right.” He nodded as he glanced at the course. I respected him for admitting it, while Reaper looked ready to reconsider every decision that had brought him here. “Well, Reaper, that was fun.” I said as I stopped in front of him. “You rode well.” He said. “Careful. That’s almost a compliment.” I said. “Don’t get used to it.” He said. “I’ll treasure this moment forever.” I said. “You can tell your grandchildren you lost to Widowmaker.” Diesel said as he clapped Maddox’s shoulder. “I’ll leave that part out.” Maddox said. “Good idea. Tell them a professional defeated you.” Griffin said. “You chose the rider, set the rules, and watched me win fairly. I assume you’ll accept the result.” I smiled at Reaper. “I accept the result.” He said as he held my gaze. “Excellent. We’re making progress.” I said. I headed toward my celebrating women, but Reaper called my name before I reached my motorcycle and I glanced over my shoulder. "This doesn't settle the corridor dispute." He said. "Of course not. You'd need to win something for that." I smiled sweetly. The Blackwidows howled with laughter, and even Griffin failed to hide his grin. I climbed onto my motorcycle, started the engine, and gave Reaper one final wave. He stood beside his men, looking like a man who had just discovered that winning an argument against me might require considerably more effort than he'd anticipated. Good. I had a feeling he was only getting started, and I was beginning to suspect that irritating Rafe Callahan might become my favorite recreational activity.