A Risky Prospect (River Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 2)

by Elizabeth Barone

  I sit in the seat he just occupied, my body reveling in the heat he left behind.

  "What's up?" Lucy asks, leaning forward and setting her mug on the coffee table.

  "So much." I grab a throw pillow and hug it. "But mostly I needed to see your face. I can't believe it's been weeks! I suck."

  She shakes her head. "It goes both ways. I've been . . . quiet." She looks down.

  "You all right?" I study her. She still looks like Lucy, but there's something different. Even though she's still pale from winter, there's a sort of sheen on her skin.

  Her mouth opens, then closes. She nods, reaching for the tea. "So what do you need?"

  I scoff. "Like I only reach out when I need something. Wow, Luce."

  She gives me a look, the one that says she's been around and knows me.

  "Okay, fine. I don't really need it. I just . . ." I sigh, glancing at the door. I hope Cliff has a nice leisurely smoke. "We broke up."

  Her eyebrows shoot upward. "What?! Cliff did not mention that."

  "Oh." I frown. They looked like they were talking about something serious. My shoulders fall. I'd kinda hoped it was about me, that he misses me as much as I miss him. "Anyway," I say, recovering, "Esther moved in with Donny. I've got to either stay there, maybe find a roommate, or maybe move in with my awesome sister who has a spare bedroom." I give her pearly whites.

  "You're so subtle, Livvie." She shakes her head at me.

  "It'll only be for a little while," I say quickly. "I just don't really love the idea of living alone."

  Her eyes flick toward the front windows.

  "I'm not moving in with him just because I don't want to live alone."

  "That's my girl," she says, patting my knee. Then she tilts her head to the side. "You're bringing Dio with you, right?"

  "Of course." I pull a shocked face. "I'd never leave my baby."

  "I figured." She pauses for a moment. "How do you think he'd do with a human baby?" Her green eyes search mine, and her throat works as she swallows.

  I glance down at the throw pillow in her lap, and it all comes together. How cranky she was during our trip to Lewisburg. How oddly quiet she's been. How she didn't even bat an eye when Cliff and I told her we were together. I count back through all the times we've been together, how many times I've actually seen her drink alcohol.

  "Damn," I breathe, gauging her face. I can't tell whether she's excited or devastated. "Does What's-His-Name know?"

  She tosses the throw pillow aside, revealing her baby bump. "No," she says with a sigh. "Speaking of daddies, Cliff said yours took off." She pins me with her green eyes. "You okay?"

  "We are so not avoiding the subject. Also, please don't ever refer to my father as my 'daddy' ever again." I try not to think about the fact that Cliff told Lucy about Mercy. I will not get started on what that means. I won't. "When are you going to tell him?"

  "I'm not sure I'm going to."

  "Lucy," I gasp. "You have to tell him!"

  She rolls her eyes. "If I tell him, he's going to want to get married. I already said no once." She places both hands on the bump. "I can't break his heart twice."

  "Don't you think you're going to crush his heart when he finds out twenty years from now that you had a secret baby?" I scold.

  She blinks at me, eyebrows slightly lifted.

  "Yeah, that's right. I can be all big sisterly, too. You have to tell him."

  "Fine," she says, her tone a little too sweet. "I'll tell him as soon as you tell Cliff you love him and want to move in with him."

  I scowl. "Never gonna happen."

  "Then I guess we know where we stand." She reaches for her tea, wrapping both hands around the mug. "Pretty soon I won't be able to reach anything," she mutters.

  "Do you know what you're carrying around in there?" I glance at her stomach and try not to shudder.

  A baby.

  Lucy is having a baby.

  Thank whatever god is out there it isn't me.

  "A girl," she replies, her tone awed, but with an edge to it. "It's like karma."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean now I've got this little girl to keep safe in this world." She winces. "It's so awful."

  "It is," I agree, "but I'll kill anyone who so much as looks at her wrong."

  "Why is it that I believe you when you say that?" She grins.

  The door opens and Cliff strolls in, singing the words to a Silversun Pickups son. He stops when he sees us. He closes the door softly, then stands there, looking a little lost. "All good?" he asks Lucy.

  He won't even look at me.

  I swallow back tears.

  "Yes," she says. "Auntie Livvie is gonna move in here."

  I groan. "No," I tell her.

  "You're not moving in?"

  "I'm not an auntie. She can call me Olivia or whatever."

  Lucy sighs. "Come on. 'Auntie Livvie and Uncle Cliff' sounds so cute—like a unit."

  "Well, we aren't a unit." I stand, avoiding looking at Cliff. It doesn't matter, because it's not like he's looking at me. We're definitely over.

  "So when are you moving in?" Lucy asks, standing too.

  "I can start bringing stuff by whenever." I inch toward the door. Cliff steps away, giving me a wide berth. "My rent is paid for June, so." Lifting a hand, I give the most awkward wave. Then I seize the door knob. "I'm gonna go start packing." Pulling the door open, I see myself out before either of them can say anything else.

  Or not say anything at all.

  Tears slide down my cheeks as I trudge to my Street Glide. I know I broke up with him, but still. I didn't expect to miss him so much. Especially since we're apparently back to barely speaking.

  I ride home, pushing the speed limit, my tears drying in the wind almost as quickly as they fall. When I get home, I'm curling up in bed with Dio and Netflix, so I can cry my eyes out.

  46

  Cliff

  The second the door closes behind Olivia, Lucy turns on me. She swivels in her seat on the couch, angling her body toward me. Her green eyes skewer me. It's the fiercest I've ever seen her.

  I take a step back.

  "Uh-ah," she says. "Sit."

  I drop into a seat as obediently as if she'd cast some sort of spell on me. She might be ten years younger than me, but Lucy is the matriarch of this family.

  "Why didn't you tell me you and Olivia broke up?" she demands.

  I scrub at my face with my hands. I don't know how to answer without betraying Olivia. I don't want to shut Lucy out, either. "It wasn't my place," I begin. "Besides, you've got a lot going on. There was also that time you told us you didn't want to hear it." I spread my hands.

  She slides me a flat look.

  "Well, you did. In this very house. I think we were in the kitchen." I give her a lopsided grin, hoping to lighten the mood.

  She sighs. "I did say that," she admits. "I'm sorry if I made either of you feel like I don't care. I do. I really, really do." She scoots toward me and takes my hands, hers so small. "It was just all happening so fast: I turned down Benjamin's proposal, I found out I was pregnant, you called me . . ." She shakes her head.

  "Aw, Luce." I pull her into my arms, bearing the weight that's crushing her, if only for a moment. "I never thought that, kid. Never. I wish you came to me sooner. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

  "I know," she says through tears. "It just didn't seem real. Like, how the hell could this happen to me? I was so careful, Cliff. I had a freakin' IUD. Apparently it shifted, and it'll come out when I give birth."

  I hold back a shudder as that particular mental image passes. "Uh, thanks, Luce."

  "What? It's just biology."

  "Yeah, but it's your biology, and I don't wanna think about it."

  She sniffles, leaning her forehead against my chest. "Yeah, well, you better get used to it. I want you in that room with me."

  I laugh. "Good one."

  "I'm serious." She tips her head back, green eyes meeting mine.
"I can't tell Benjamin. He'll think I kept this a secret from him and then bolted when he proposed. He'll be so hurt. And there's no way I'm having my mother in there with me."

  I rub her back like she's eight again. "You haven't told your parents?"

  "God no." She leans into me. "And you and I both know that no matter how much Livvie loves me, she is not good at this stuff."

  "She . . . has a lot of her own stuff," I say carefully.

  Lucy lifts her head again and pins me with a hard look. "Spill. Now."

  "I can't, Luce. I already betrayed her trust. That's why we broke up."

  Straightening, she presses her lips together, evaluating me. A finger bare of nail polish taps her chin. Ever since she came to get me in Lewisburg, she's always had her nails done. Usually that natural look that so many women get. A French manicure or some shit.

  "You two are so stubborn," she says. "Have you considered, oh, I don't know, begging her forgiveness and telling her how much you love her?"

  "I can't. Honestly, Luce, I think that's most of our problem. I've 'caught feelings,' as you kids say, and Olivia . . ." I trail off, staring out the front window. The Screamin' Eagle sits alone in the driveway behind Lucy's car, Olivia's Street Glide long gone.

  "Can't handle it," she finishes for me. "Yeah, Olivia's got abandonment issues. I mean, can you blame her? She's been ditched by everyone who's supposed to care about her. Even my parents aren't the warmest."

  I nod. No matter how awful Bastard was, at least I had Ruth reading to me at bedtime and telling me how much she loved me—even if only for a short time.

  "That's why she blows through men," Lucy continues. "Olivia likes to be the ditcher. That way, she can't get hurt. She's never had anyone chase her, though." She eyes me, lifting an encouraging eyebrow.

  "It's not just that, Luce." I sigh. I can't tell Olivia's secret. Not again. It doesn't matter what my intentions were then or what they are now. I know I was wrong. I won't make the same mistake twice. "She's got a lot of demons, and I can't kill them for her."

  "No," she says, "but you can help her take out the trash."

  I think of the night she called me, how I slid that tarp under Eli's body and took him apart, piece by piece. I never even questioned whether I should. I just did it. Then I held her. I don't know if that'll work this time. "Is it really that simple?" I ask out loud.

  "Well, this is Olivia we're talking about. Nothing is ever simple with her." Lucy puts her hand over mine and squeezes. "Don't you think it's worth a try, though? Tell her you're sorry. I can see how much you regret whatever you did. Let her see that, too. Then just be there for her. Be whatever she needs. Don't try to push her into anything like getting married or moving in together."

  I hold up my hands. "Whoa."

  "I'm just saying," she says with a laugh. "Olivia and I are cut from the same cloth. We don't like being pushed into corners. I promise you, if you two get through this, you'll eventually naturally find your way into an apartment." She says it so sternly, I chuckle.

  "I really thought it was the next natural step."

  "I know, but Cliff, you've got to remember, even without all the other stuff, Olivia is twenty-one, and you're thirty-eight."

  "Way to rub it in."

  She snorts. "I see you, getting your septum pierced and switching up your look."

  My hand goes to where my goatee's grown back in. "Yeah, well." I shrug.

  "I think the septum suits you," she says, "but dude, there are seventeen years between you. That's a love-child-wide gap."

  I glance pointedly at her bump.

  "Yeah, yeah. Look, you're just going to have to accept that if you want Olivia bad enough, there are certain challenges you're going to have to overcome. You're going to have to stop freaking out about your biological clock."

  "I'm not freaking out," I grumble.

  She tilts her head at me. "Dude. Septum. Need I say more?"

  I glower at her.

  "If I didn't know you, if I didn't know the why behind the story, I'd say you were going through a midlife crisis." She laughs. It's not an unkind laugh, though.

  I still keep my glare going.

  "Come on. You joined a motorcycle club. Started dating a woman almost twenty years younger than you. Got a piercing most people get in their teens or twenties. Admit it, Cliff. It looks like a midlife crisis." Her lips twitch.

  "Go ahead, laugh." I lean back in my seat. "You're right, it does look that way. Even I wondered if what I feel for her is just a phase."

  "Is it?" she asks, her eyes soft, her hand still on mine.

  "No," I say in nearly a whisper. "This is what I want. The club, Olivia. I can't explain it, but it's exactly where I'm supposed to be. I know it."

  "I know." She squeezes me hand. "So, you gonna keep telling me, or are you gonna go fight for her?"

  "Right now?"

  "I mean, there's no time like the present," she says. "You're just wasting time sitting here with me."

  "I'm not wasting time," I assure her. "I'm here for you, not to dissect my problems."

  "Honestly, I feel a lot better now. I've got you and Olivia. Secret's out, so that's not eating at me, either."

  "Luce," I say gently, "I'm just throwing this out there: you need to tell him. It'd kill me if Olivia and I parted ways, and I found out down the line that she had my baby and never told me."

  Lucy sighs. "She said the same thing."

  "About my baby?"

  "Calm down," she scolds, a playful edge to her tone. "She didn't say anything about you or your fictional baby. God, you really do have a biological clock ticking."

  "What can I say? I've always wanted kids," I admit.

  "And I never did, yet here we are." She shakes her head. "How about you take this baby off my hands?"

  "Yeah, that'll help me woo Olivia," I joke. I sober and pull her in for another hug. "You've got me, though. And her. Even if we aren't together, we both love you."

  "I know. Thank you." She wraps her arms around my waist.

  Even though everything else is so upside down, in this moment, I'm more content than I've been in twenty years—I've got my best friend. I kiss the top of Lucy's head and my chest loosens. I hate that I've missed two decades of her life, but I'm so glad to be back. Releasing her, I sit back. I'm relieved to see that she's blinking away tears. She smiles up at me.

  "So, Olivia's moving in," I say, lightening the mood. "I'm glad she'll be here with you."

  "Me too," Lucy says, "though she'll be more moral support than anything else."

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  She chuckles. "Can you really see Olivia changing diapers and waking up in the middle of the night for feedings?"

  I do my best to picture it, but I can't. "No," I admit. I try not to feel defeated. If by some miracle we get through this, eventually kids will be another sticking point for us. Because I know I want them, and I know she doesn't. We've never actually talked about it, but I know all the same. "Don't worry," I say quickly, determined not to let Lucy pick up on my thoughts. "Uncle Cliff is already looking forward to sleepovers, and I don't mind changing diapers."

  She grins. "I love the image I immediately get of you, all tough in your MC leather, changing diapers and singing lullabies."

  "I changed yours," I say with a shrug.

  "You're gonna be the best uncle ever." She beams at me. "Now get out, and go get that girl." She shoos me off the couch. "I need a nap anyway. Why is pregnancy so exhausting?"

  "Enjoy your nap," I say as she lies down. I grab a throw blanket and drape it over her.

  "Lock me in?" she slurs, her eyes heavy.

  "Of course." I kiss her forehead, then ease out of the house. I lock the door behind me as promised. Then I stand on the porch, between Lucy and my bike. I know what I need to do, but despite all of Lucy's reassurances, I'm fucking terrified that it won't matter what I say or how much I mean it.

  47

  Olivia

  I'm floating
in the most peaceful black when a knock yanks me up from the deep. I sit up in bed, eyes bleary, heart racing. My hand goes to my gun without me even having to think about it.

  The knock sounds again, echoing through the mostly empty apartment. A familiar knock. Cliff's knock. I leave the gun on the nightstand.

  Tossing the blanket aside, I get out of bed but leave the fan in my room running. The second I get rid of him, I'm going right back to sleep.

  I stalk to the front door, not even bothering to check my hair and makeup. I couldn't care less. I yank it open. "What are you doing here?" I demand.

  He stands on the front porch, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his head bowed. He looks up, that curtain of hair draping over his shoulder, masking part of his face. It doesn't shield his eyes from me—eyes that scorch me, igniting every nerve in my body, sending a jolt straight to my heart.

  Then he says three words, words that should be little but together nearly knock me over: "Can we talk?"

  It's the hushed, sorrowful tone that gets me, and I know: he's come to apologize. My heart twists. I want to leap into his arms, drag him into my bedroom, and take his apology with my body. I want his words to soothe every scarred inch of my heart, a sort of salve.

  Instead I just move aside, letting him in. I don't want to stand out here in my booty shorts and tight tank top, no bra.

  He moves past me, leaving me enveloped in warm cedar and vanilla in his wake. I breathe him in, wishing I could bottle it and spray it on my sheets when he's long gone. I follow him inside, closing the door behind me.

  He whistles, a long, low sound. "It's so weird being in here without furniture."

  "You wanted to talk?" I coax.

  "Is that cool?" Something in his voice tells me that, if I told him to get out, he'd drop the whole thing and go.

  I might as well get it over with. We've been in a sort of limbo, one filled with longing glances and lingering touches. "I'd offer you a seat, but the couch's gone."