Reaper's Property (20 page)

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Authors: Joanna Wylde

We stumbled up the stairs and he took my
hand, pulling me into his room for the first time. I was too tired to look
around. I just pulled off my clothes and fell into the bed. Horse stripped down
and climbed in next to me, tucking me into his side. Like always, it made me
feel safe.

How fucked up is that?

 

I woke up to find Horse
lying next to me, watching as he traced his fingers across my face. He looked
thoughtful and tired.

“I’m not sure ladies’ night was such a hot
idea,” I whispered.

“I’m a dick,” he replied, closing his eyes,
face pained. “I’m an asshole and a dick and I shouldn’t have been in that room
at the Line. I did it because I was pissed you went out and I wanted to get
back at you, which was bullshit. I’m sorry.”

I looked away, trying not to think of him
half naked with that girl, big boobs rubbing all over him. I hated the idea of
them together but I also had to be honest with myself. I’d refused an exclusive
relationship with him when he offered, and then I insulted him on top of it.
Sure, he’d kidnapped me in return…and then offered to pay for my college.

Did that make us even or just exceptionally
fucked up?

I really shouldn’t have skipped biker babe
orientation, I mused. Next time I’d definitely attend. A little laugh sneaked
out and Horse flopped back, groaning.

“I’m fucked,” he said.

“Let’s talk this through,” I said, rolling
over. Now it was my turn to lean up and look down at him. “We’re not in an
exclusive relationship, or at least not one we agreed to together. I’m not even
sure we’re in a relationship at all. I don’t know if I have the right to be so
pissed at you, but I hated seeing you with that bitch. You have no idea how
much I hated it. I didn’t expect that. And I am definitely pissed off about it.
And I’m pissed off about Max too.”

“Do you want the right to be pissed at me,
seeing as you’re so good at it?” he asked, mouth quirking. The humor didn’t
quite reach his eyes. He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. “What if we
started over? Do you think you could give me another chance?”

“Do you actually think we could?” I
replied. There were so many things between us, so many complicated feelings
that I didn’t know how to even begin dealing with them. “Or is it too late?
There’s a lot of baggage here. I mean, even if we let all the things between us
go, there’s still Jeff.”

“I don’t want to be your enemy,” he said
firmly. “I want to be your man. You make me feel crazy things, Marie, and I
don’t want to lose you. I don’t want trouble for Jeff either, but I’ve done
everything I can to help him. I can’t do any more, it’s up to him now. I hope
you believe that.”

He dropped his hand down along the length
of my body, catching my leg and pulling it up and over his hip. His cock
brushed my center and I shivered, like always. His gaze caught mine, full of
intensity. “I want you to be my old lady, babe. That’s all I have to offer. I’m
a Reaper, and this is my world. You wear my patch, you be my woman and I’ll be
your man. We take the good times together and fight through the bad times. No
games. That’s everything I’ve got and it’s all yours if you’ll take it.”

I sighed, trying to think. I wanted it—I
wanted him. I still didn’t like the whole property thing. But I’d seen Darcy
and Dancer and Cookie in action—they weren’t helpless victims and what they had
with their men might be different, but it was good. Much better than I’d had
with Gary—and that was another whole load of baggage. Horse would be taking on
a woman who was still married to another man, a woman with no assets and no
skills.

I guess it just came down to a leap of
faith.

“I want to try,” I said slowly, holding his
gaze. “If we do it, I think we need to give each other a fresh start. Only look
forward, leave all the past behind us. Let go of the anger. Otherwise we could
spend the next year fighting over things we can’t change.”

“That works for me,” he replied, face still
grave. “But I need to know—are you ready to wear my patch? That’s how it works
in the club, babe, and there’s no leaving the club. If you can’t live with
that, I’ll find another place for you to stay until this shit with your brother
resolves. It’ll kill me, but I’ll do it. I’m ready to let you go if that’s what
you need. No strings.”

“I want to be with you,” I said, reaching
down to run my fingers along the length of his rapidly hardening cock. I moved
my mouth toward his, letting my lips hover over his. “I’ll be your old lady and
I’ll wear your patch. But if you ever let some bitch shove her tits in your
face again, I’ll shoot you myself.”

At that, I wrapped my fingers around his
dick and squeezed a little too tight for comfort.

“Noted,” Horse said, smiling against my
mouth. “You got a gun?”

I laughed, shaking my head, brushing my
lips against his.

“Okay, we’ll take care of that today,” he
said, nuzzling my mouth. “Gonna fuck you first though. Honest to God, you
wouldn’t believe the checklist I’ve got in my head for us to work through.”

Horse wasn’t kidding about the checklist.
We got a good start on it, but after a couple hours I needed a break for food.
We ate breakfast together and cleaned up, basking in each other’s presence.

Then he took me out to the barn and I
learned Horse wasn’t kidding about the gun either.

 


Okay, hold it straight
like I showed you. Left hand down low to brace your right. Keep your finger off
the trigger until you line up the sights. Good. Now put your finger on the
trigger and pull back until it just stops. Double-check your aim and fire.”

I shot the little semi-automatic .22 pistol
at the target pinned against a hay bale three times, then pulled my finger off
the trigger like he’d taught me and pointed the gun at the ground.

“You like it?” Horse asked, looking pleased
with himself. He’d presented me with the pistol like it was a diamond ring or
something. Probably best not to think about that too much.

“It kicks ass,” I said, because it did.
Firing it made me feel sort of powerful and tough. “But are you sure it’s big
enough? Those are really tiny little bullets, Horse. If I’m gonna be a badass
biker chick, shouldn’t I have a bigger gun?”

“A .22 was big enough to kill Bobby
Kennedy,” he replied, and I stopped smiling and raised my brows.

“Damn.”

“No shit. Honestly, it’s about accuracy,
not size, babe.”

“Did I seriously just hear you, Marcus
“Horse” McDonnell, tell me it’s not about size?”

“Yeah,” he said, ignoring my little jab.
“It’s true it doesn’t have the stopping power that a bigger gun does, but I’d
be more afraid of a woman with a .22 who really knows how to shoot than a man
with a .45 he bought because his dick’s too small. It’s not like the movies,
Marie. A handgun isn’t gonna stop someone in his tracks unless you hit
something important, not even a big handgun. You need a shotgun for that. It’s
just physics.”

“So even this little thing could kill
someone,” I asked, looking at the pistol with new respect. I handed it to him
very carefully. “It just looks like a TV prop or something, you know?”

“No shit,” he replied. “I want you to
practice with it, really get used to it. We’ll do it every day. Just remember,
you ever point this at a person, you shoot it right at his heart and you shoot
to kill. Never point a gun unless you’re ready to end a life. And don’t fool
yourself that you can shoot them in the foot or some such shit. If it’s bad
enough to shoot, it’s bad enough to kill. And nobody’s that good a shot
anyway.”

“What about that night at the party?” I
asked, my voice soft.

“What about it?” he asked, grabbing
another, larger pistol out of his bag and sliding in the magazine with a click.

“You pointed a gun at that man. You didn’t
kill him, you shot next to him. But you could have killed him.”

“Yep, I could’ve,” he said. “I got real
lucky that night because when he shot near you, he didn’t hit you. Then he got
lucky, because I put him in the same situation and he didn’t get hit either.
The difference is, he chose to pull his gun on a bunch of innocent women at a
party. Then he chose to pull the trigger three times. No excuse for that. He
deserved more than he got.”

“You’re scary sometimes, you understand
that, right?”

Horse grinned at me, leaning over to kiss
my nose.

“Try the .38, little Miss
I-don’t-know-if-my-gun-is-big-enough. It’s what I like to carry, big enough to
do some damage but small enough to be discreet.”

I picked it up. This one was heavier and my
hand shook just a little as I aimed it. I lined up the sights, braced my body
with one foot back and pulled the trigger. The pistol bucked and while I didn’t
lose control, I didn’t like how it felt either. The gun seemed kind of wild to
me, and I decided an even larger one would probably knock me on my ass.

“I see what you mean,” I said. “That one’s
harder to hold.”

“Yup,” he said. “And they have more kick as
you go up. I’d rather see you with a gun that feels comfortable. Otherwise you
might hesitate to use it when you need it. It’s your choice and if I don’t have
what you want, we’ll go find it.”

“I want to try the .38 one more time,” I
said. He nodded, and I took my stance. This time when I shot, the shell casing
flew back and hit my face, bouncing down my neck and into my cleavage.

“Holy shit!” I yelled, dropping the gun and
jumping round, trying to shake the hot metal out of my clothing. It slid
around, burning me until I managed to pull my bra away from my body and the
shell casing fell to the ground.

“Jesus, Marie!” Horse said, picking up the
gun. “You drop a gun like that it might go off. You could’ve killed yourself!”

I stood and looked at him, breathing hard.

“The casing burned me,” I said, my voice
faint.

“Honey, that sucks, but it’ll hurt a lot
more if you shoot yourself. Or me. If you’re gonna shoot me, I want to do
something to earn it first. Seems only fair.”

“I think I’ll stick with the .22,” I said,
biting my lip. He set down the gun and then shook his head, smiling at me.

“You’re not boring, you know that?”

“But you like that about me, right?” I
asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I like it,” he replied, leaning down
to kiss me. “Now practice loading your gun so you can shoot it some more. If
you ever need it, I want it to be more than a paperweight.”

“Do you seriously think I’ll need a gun? Is
life as an old lady really that rough?”

He shook his head.

“Probably not,” he replied. “No more than
life is rough for any woman, depending on her circumstances. It’s an ugly
world. But if you know how to use one, and you take it seriously, it’s not
going to hurt you. You don’t and you need it? I couldn’t live with that, Marie.
Shit, you needed it last night.”

That sobered me.

“What about Max?” I asked. “What happens
with him?”

“That’s club business,” he replied. “You
don’t ask—you trust me to take care of it. He’ll be punished and he definitely
won’t bother you again. If he does, I’ll kill him.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I whispered.
“You’d really kill him?”

“He fucks with you, he’s dead. That’s the
way it is. Enough questions—now show me how you load your gun, babe. We’re
gonna practice every day until you’re comfortable with it, can do it without
thinking. This gun is part of you now. You got me?”

“I got you.”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he replied
ruefully, brushing back my hair and tucking it behind my ear. “No idea at all.
Now let me watch you shoot. Chicks with guns are hot.”

Chapter Seventeen

December 10—Three months later

 

I’d love to say that things got easy after
that. That every day was a new, perfect adventure and life with Horse was like
living in a Disney movie with motorcycles instead of carriages.

That would be a big fat lie.

Horse had been by himself for a long time
and he was in need of the occasional attitude adjustment. I’d already lived
with one asshole and I wasn’t in the market for another one. He claimed I could
be a raging bitch myself. I can’t say he was wrong about that.

But it was never boring.

For every bad time we had there were ten
good ones, and they were very, very good. Horse and I had been working through
his list of fantasies and I could attest to the fact that using the pink
vibrator with him was a lot more fun than using it on my own. Gary had been a
slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. Horse was creative and the only thing he
liked more than fucking me was making me come.

This worked for me.

I didn’t learn what happened to Max. I knew
he wasn’t around for all of October and most of November, although he
reappeared at the Thanksgiving party, slinking around the armory like a
half-drowned cat, all grumpy and defensive. The rest of the club seemed to
ignore it, so I did too. It was okay. Not quite as good as castrating him with
a dull spoon would have been, but life is all about compromises, right?

Especially life in the Reapers MC.

That was another thing I had to get used
to. I hadn’t just moved in with Horse at his house. I’d moved into the club,
which was as much a family as he’d said, albeit a really weird family. The
heart of the club was the armory, a place I kept hearing about but couldn’t
quite wrap my head around until I saw it the first time. Maggs called one
morning to let me know we were having an impromptu barbeque. I was supposed to
make a “shitload of that fuckin’ great potato salad” (a direct quote from
Picnic) and be ready at four when she’d come and get me.

The armory, as I discovered when we
arrived, was an actual National Guard armory that had been purchased by the
Reapers fifteen years earlier. It was just outside of town, three stories high
and built like a fortress for obvious reasons. It had a large, walled courtyard
in the back and by large, I mean big enough to park lots of cars and trucks and
bikes. There were several sheds and outbuildings too. Most of it was paved, but
it also had a grassy area with picnic tables, a giant fire pit and a swing set
complete with children running around screaming and laughing.

Not exactly what I expected. Neither was
the party that followed. It was wild and crazy, but not nasty like the one I’d
gone to with the Silver Bastards. This was a family gathering, and I saw for
the first time just how tight everyone was. We laughed and danced and took
stupid pictures and ate way too much food. That night Horse brought me up onto
the roof, laid out a blanket and taught me just how much nicer drunken Reaper
sex could be when it didn’t end with a shooting. The kids were long gone by
then and I could hear other couples in the darkness. It should have felt
uncomfortable but it actually kicked ass. Go figure.

Now it was three months later and things
were really good between me and Horse. I’d be starting school in January. My
divorce was still working its way through the system, but Gary—as
predicted—wasn’t causing any trouble. I’d been to see my mom a few times and
she seemed happy enough for me, although she wanted to come and check out Horse
and the club for herself when she got out.

The only thing missing in my life was Jeff.
Apparently he was in touch with the Reapers sporadically and had even paid them
some of the money he owed. Not much though. I still hadn’t talked to him, but
I’d gotten a couple of emails from an anonymous address. They said to lay low
and hold on, that he’d take care of things soon. I broke down and replied,
telling him I was fine and to worry about himself, not me. I also set up a new,
anonymous secret webmail account and gave him the address. I trusted Horse, but
my brother’s life was on the line and to say my man had a conflict of interest
was an understatement from hell. I needed to be able to communicate with Jeff
privately. He sent me a couple of notes after that, but they didn’t really say
much.

On the bright side, Horse and I were
getting ready for our first Christmas together, which was pretty exciting. I’d
decided to go shopping with the girls at the Spokane Valley Mall that day.
Cookie and Maggs were the leaders of our little group, probably because they
needed the support of their sisters even more than the rest of us. The Reapers
looked out for them, of course, but being away from your husband long-term had
to suck, especially for Cookie. Her little girl, Silvie, cried for Bagger
almost every night.

That would be ending soon. We’d just gotten
word that Bagger would be home right after New Year’s. He’d been out of touch a
lot lately, and Cookie was pretty close to the end of her rope when we got the
news. That’s why we’d hit the mall—to find the perfect welcome-home ensemble at
Victoria’s Secret.

“I want to look hot, but not slutty,”
Cookie said, digging through the nighties. “You know what I mean?”

Maggs laughed.

“Babe, he’s not gonna care what you wear.
Remember what he said after you sent that video?”

Cookie blushed and I burst out laughing.
Bagger had liked the striptease quite a bit…after he knew for sure none of the
other guys had seen it. I’d “met” him on Skype a couple of times now, and it
was clear the man worshiped Cookie and his daughter, and he didn’t like the
idea of sharing her at all.

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me
into that,” Cookie said finally, wiping away tears of laughter. “I can just see
it now. Silvie will be fifteen years old and she’ll find it on my computer. How
am I going to convince her to wait for sex when she sees me doing something
like that?”

“Silvie and Em, perpetual virgins!” I said,
shaking my head. “Ah, the horror of life as a Reaper’s daughter. The poor
darlings are screwed, no question. No pun intended, of course.”

That set us off laughing again.

“Screwed is what I’m looking for,” said
Cookie, sighing. “Screwed, fucked, pleasured and reamed, you name it. I’ve worn
out three vibrators on this deployment, I swear. I cannot
wait
to see my
man again.”

After an hour we finally found the perfect
welcome-home outfit. Several of them, actually. Maggs grabbed a few things too,
but I didn’t like spending Horse’s money. He kept saying not to worry about it,
but I felt weird buying things for myself. We still argued about me getting a
job sometimes, but to be honest I was keeping myself pretty busy. I helped
Cookie at her shop, which led to me watching Silvie three days a week. Cookie
told me she could teach anyone to make coffee, but finding a sitter she could
trust was a lot harder. This was perfect, because I was helping out and also
earning a few extra bucks each week. I’d have done it for free, but she
insisted. I also ran errands for the guys and started cleaning the pawn shop
when their cleaning lady flaked. The Reapers really did have a lot of stuff
going on, and Horse had come to appreciate my willingness to kick in whenever
help was needed. The other guys noticed too, and they seemed to enjoy having me
around.

My phone dinged. I pulled it out to find a
text from Horse.

Come by the armory? Need to talk to you.

That sounded ominous.

Everything okay?

Complicated. I’ll explain when you get
here. No detours, okay?

Maggs and Cookie wanted to keep shopping,
so I said goodbye and left. Fortunately I had my own car with me so I drove
straight to the armory. I pulled up and parked in the front lot. Painter met me
outside, taking my arm and guiding me through the gate and the courtyard to the
back entrance, which seemed weird. He said Horse would be out in a minute so
Painter and I stood and waited.

This sucked, because Coeur d’Alene might
only be two hundred miles from my hometown, but it was way, way colder here in
the winter. I shivered and rubbed my arms, noticing there were a lot more bikes
than usual in the courtyard, along with some big trucks and SUVs I didn’t
recognize. Then Horse pushed through the back door, holding it for Painter, who
ducked back inside. Just seeing Horse warmed me a little. He wore a black
jacket over his cut and a dark, knitted cap on his head. He’d let his beard
fill in a little with the cold weather and I had to say, it looked hot. The
look on his face wasn’t hot though. It was so cold I wondered if I’d forgotten
something really important.

“We got a problem, babe,” he said without
greeting me.

“What’s the problem?”

“Your brother’s made a deal with another
club. Somehow he’s getting information about our business and he’s feeding it
to them. In return, they’re supposed to snatch you and hand you over to him.
These are bad guys and this is going to blow up in his face, which sucks for
him, but I’m not letting it spill over on you. We’re locking you down, only way
to keep you safe until it’s worked out.”

I stared at him, gaping.

“He’s trying to save you,” Horse said,
shaking his head. “I swear, he’s either the stupidest fuck who ever lived or
has the worst luck of any human being I’ve ever met. He reached out to the
Devil’s Jacks, who in addition to being our enemies are quite possibly the
least trustworthy group of bastards ever born. They’ve been looking for a way
to fuck us up for a long time and now they have it. Could be a war, we don’t
get this under control. The first step is to lock your shit up tight until we
find Jeff.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “What could he
possibly be giving them? How did he go from laying low to plotting a war to get
me back? You said he was against the wall—where is he getting this leverage?”

“No fucking idea where it’s coming from,”
Horse said, his face grim. “I swear, if he’d put half this much effort into
doing his job in the first place we’d all be fuckin’ millionaires. Instead he’s
playing us like his personal chess game, which would be pretty impressive if it
wasn’t for the fact that all the chess pieces have guns. The guys are all
worked up, pissed as hell, and it’s a damn good thing everyone likes you
because this is not a good scene. You’re gonna be moving into the armory for a
while, into one of the apartments upstairs.”

“How long?” I asked, feeling a little
panicky. Horse shrugged.

“Long as it takes, babe. The Jacks manage
to take you, the club goes to war,” Horse replied. “Jeff’s set them on you, and
for now he’s got enough info to make the effort worth their while. You stay
inside and lay low. Tonight you don’t even leave the apartment. We’ve got guys
from other charters coming in, a lot of them already here, could get a little
wild. You stay in your room, you keep your mouth shut and you do not do or say
anything to draw attention to yourself.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling a little sick. “Is
that all?”

He gave a short, abrupt laugh that had
nothing to do with humor.

“No,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Another
change of plans. It’s time for you to try to get hold of your brother. Email
him, call him, call anyone who knows him. We need him to end this, for your
safety and for the club. Then he needs to disappear. Permanently. He can make
that happen or we will. I’m telling you this because I love you, babe. You want
your brother to live, you get him to cooperate with us. That’s his only shot.”

I grew very still.

“Are you planning to kill him for this?
That’s two strikes now,” I said, feeling lightheaded. “You already threatened
to kill him over the money. Now he does this. I won’t lure him in for you to
kill.”

“Not gonna lie, babe,” Horse said, looking
me right in the eye. “He has one shot here. He starts a war, he ain’t gonna
make it. He’s hired our enemies to take one of our women. This shit will not
stand. He has to make things right without sucking you in. You got me?”

I nodded, feeling like I might throw up.
Why did Jeff keep doing this crazy stuff? I shouldn’t have listened to Horse, I
should have called Jeff a long time ago and worked with him to figure something
out—or at least stayed in close enough touch for him to really believe I wasn’t
in danger. I’d followed Horse’s directions because I thought it was safest for
Jeff. At least, that’s what I’d used as the excuse to ignore my brother while I
built a new life.

Had I been lying to myself?

“Let’s go to the apartment now,” Horse
said. “Remember, lay low. You need something, call my cell. Don’t come looking
for me or anyone else. I already talked to Em, she’s packing up some clothes
and shit for you.”

He took my arm, opening the back door and leading
through the hallways to the stairs. I saw a few new faces, male and female, and
the palpable air of tension everywhere sickened me. Nobody said hi or even
looked me in the eye. We climbed the stairs to the third floor, where they had
remodeled the original offices to make studio apartments. I got the smallest,
all the way at the end. There were bars on the windows and Horse told me to
keep the shades drawn.

I sat down on the queen-sized bed, alone.

I pulled out my phone and sent an urgent
email to Jeff’s anonymous account. Then I started making phone calls to as many
of his friends as I could find numbers for. I had to reach him, although I
wasn’t sure what I would tell him. Could I really trust the Reapers if he came
in?

I wasn’t so sure about that.

 

Horse

Church was standing room only. Picnic
presided, the visiting presidents from Portland and LeGrande flanking him.
Horse leaned against the wall, eyeing Max across the room. He hadn’t forgotten
what he’d done, but he’d paid his price and was back in the fold. He might not
like the guy but he was still a brother—and if war came, they needed every man.

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