by Joanna Wylde
“Sounds great, Marie,” Bam Bam said. He reached around to his wallet, pulling out some bills and offering them to me. I was stunned.
“You don’t have to do that,” I murmured.
“Take the money and don’t forget beer,” Picnic said, his voice short. Arguing with them didn’t seem like a good idea, so I grabbed the bills and retreated. I took my sweet time getting the pizzas. I really, really didn’t want to come back home too early, but after hanging out at the takeout place for forty-five minutes, I got a text from Jeff telling me all was clear. I grabbed the pies and drove home, hoping Jeff’s weirdness lately wasn’t connected to the Reapers. I kept hearing Horse’s voice in my head.
Fuck with us and we will fuck you back.
Jeff wouldn’t be that stupid, would he?
When I got back, I had another of those surreal moments that seemed to happen around the Reapers with alarming frequency. Earlier I would have sworn things were ugly between them and Jeff. Now everyone was friendly—practically jolly—and they welcomed me (or rather, the pizzas I carried) with the kind of cheer usually reserved for returning war heroes. I tried to give Bam Bam his change, but he wouldn’t take it, telling me to use it for gas.
The evening followed a familiar pattern. We ate together and then they sat around drinking beer while I cleaned up. As the night went on, the jokes got dirtier. I drank several beers. They built a bonfire. Someone suggested tequila shots. I don’t usually do shots, but it seemed like a fantastic idea when viewed through my beer goggles. I’d been up since early that morning, and I had to be up again at seven to get ready for work, so eventually I decided to hit the sack.
I couldn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about the guys outside and how Horse should be with them. Then I thought about how it felt when he held me in those strong arms of his and we slept together, all warm and safe. That made me sad, and this was where things got ugly.
“They” always say you shouldn’t drink and text, whoever they are. I should have listened to them. They’re pretty smart.
Me: Horse, muss yu
Me: Why dont anser?
Me: Horse like yur name. Horsey. I’d like to rid u horsey, LOL. You sleeping? Or busy with someone?
Me: I know yur there. I bet you got a new gurl alredy. Screw you.
Me: Screw you and your slut. I hate you. Take yur club and shove it up yur ass I wudn’t be yoor old lady for ten milion dollrs.
To say I was hung over when my alarm went off at seven the next morning would be a bit of an understatement. I discovered the messages I’d sent between barf two and barf three, and then that particularly nasty one after barf three. I wanted to crawl under the trailer and die, I was so embarrassed.
Through the force of extreme will, I managed to get myself to work on time. Fortunately the head count was low for the day, so the kids weren’t too loud and crazy. I kept thinking about those messages, trying to decide whether to call Horse and apologize, text again or what.
I finally decided to text. He probably wouldn’t take a call from me anyway, and I couldn’t blame him. But I couldn’t just leave it like that—I wasn’t that kind of person. I drove home after work, grabbed a big glass of water and crafted my text carefully.
Me: I’m really sorry about my messages last night. It’s no excuse, but I was drunk and wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry I bothered you and I’m sorry for the things I said. I was a bitch, it wasn’t called for and I feel like shit. I promise, I won’t bother you again.
I sat, holding my phone, not sure if I wanted him to reply or not. Shit, my head was killing me. Why did I drink the tequila? I couldn’t handle tequila, I knew that. The last time I’d done tequila shots I’d stripped off my shirt and danced on the coffee table at a party that’d thankfully been very small. Gary had stuffed dollar bills in my jeans and told me to drink more tequila. His friends had cheered me on and waved around their own money. Gary thought that kicked ass.
Guess I couldn’t claim there hadn’t been warning signs that the man was a douche…
The door slammed open and I winced.
“Marie, I gotta talk to you,” Jeff said, sitting down heavily on the stool next to mine.
“I’m pretty hung over. I don’t want to talk,” I muttered, closing my eyes.
“It’s important. I need money.”
“Um, I’ve got a little in my purse,” I replied. “How much do you want?”
“A lot,” he replied, not meeting my eyes. “I’m kind of in a bind.”
That caught my attention, and I looked at him. Really looked at him. What I saw shocked me. He’d lost at least ten pounds in the past couple weeks, and his hair clearly hadn’t been washed in a couple of days. His face was sallow and his eyes dull—not just hangover dull.
“Jeff, are you sick? You don’t look good. I want to take your temperature.”
“Jesus, Marie!” he burst out, slamming his hand down on the counter so hard I felt the trailer shake. I jumped, startled. “Why are you so damn pushy? I’m not your kid, I’m a grown man.”
I froze. Jeff never yelled at me. In fact, Jeff never yelled, period. He’d always been mellow, and the pot didn’t exactly work to change that.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching up and rubbing his shoulder, as if he’d been carrying something heavy and his back ached. “I shouldn’t yell at you. But I really need some money fast, Marie.”
“Why?”
“Capital,” he replied, not meeting my eyes. “I’ve got a business deal in the works, but I need startup cash. In fact, I need a lot of startup cash. Hell of an opportunity. I can’t afford to miss it.”
I shook my head, wondering if he’d lost his mind.
“Seriously? You know I don’t have money like that,” I said. “You can have all I’ve got, but it’s about twelve hundred bucks total. That’s it.”
“What about Gary?”
That stopped me short.
“Gary?”
“It’s a community property state, isn’t it?” Jeff asked, shifting nervously. “You can call him and make him give you the money. Do it for me, Marie. I really need the cash.”
I shook my head slowly, unsure I’d actually heard him correctly.
“Well, for one thing, Gary never has any cash,” I said slowly. “He spends it faster than he makes it, and it’s not like we owned anything valuable. And for another, did you forget that the last time I saw him he beat the crap out of me?”
Jeff leaned toward me, putting his hands on my shoulders, meeting me face-to-face. “I’m desperate, sis. What about your house? Can you get a line of credit on your house?”
I shook my head again, stunned. Had Jeff lost his mind?
“The house is already mortgaged to the hilt. We’re probably upside down on the thing. What’s really going on?” I demanded. I didn’t buy this “business deal” bullshit for a minute, and I refused to believe Jeff had forgotten what Gary did to me. I couldn’t deny it any longer—something really, really wrong was happening. Something bad enough to make my baby brother desperate.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head at me, turning away. “I wanted to make this deal happen and thought you might help me. You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked you. I’m sorry.”
With that, he turned and walked back out of the trailer. Seconds later his car started and he disappeared for the night. Seems so obvious in retrospect, but honestly—I didn’t see what happened next coming.
Not even a little bit.
Chapter Nine
Coeur d’Alene, Idaho
September 16
Horse
Horse leaned back against the bed, watching Serena’s ass as she rode his cock like a rodeo queen. Better than looking at her face. Not that Serena wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t hold a candle to Marie.
Now her… He could look at her face all day.
Most of his brothers wanted him to forget about the girl. Women like her aren’t worth the hassle, just grab some club whore to be you
r house mouse if random hookups aren’t working for you. And if she gets on your nerves? Well, there’s always another bitch waiting to take her place.
Serena stopped, turning to look at him. “You paying attention?”
He laughed and shook his head.
“Sorry, babe, lost in my thoughts. Let’s keep it up, okay?”
He gave her ass an encouraging smack, and she smiled at him with carefully painted lips. The girl was a pro, no question there. Cunt like a vise, mouth like a vacuum. He’d be crazy to consider giving up hot and cold running pussy like this for an old lady who could be a certified bitch.
But what a bitch…
He never got bored around Marie, and that was the fuckin’ truth. And he didn’t think he’d get distracted with her on his cock. She might not be a pro like Serena, but she had the sweetest pussy he’d ever tasted. Damn, but he wanted to taste her again. The thought made him even harder.
An hour later, Serena was gone and Horse still hadn’t budged from the bed. Time to head over to the clubhouse, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about Marie. They were supposed to discuss Jeff-hole’s fuckups during church today.
Damn, Marie’s fuckwad brother was an idiot. And it wasn’t like they hadn’t been patient.
Horse had started finding “mistakes” in the wire transfers almost three months ago. Small ones at first, a thousand here, five hundred there. Then they got bigger. Jeff had all kinds of excuses, from simple typos to running behind on his reports. But in the end, it all pointed in the same direction—Jeff was running a skim. Fuckwit had decided he could steal from the Reapers and live to enjoy it.
Just thinking about shit like this made Horse feel old.
Wasn’t like Jeff didn’t know what he’d gotten into. Hell, he’d come to them. They’d made it clear from the start that they wouldn’t tolerate any bullshit, and that the penalty for said bullshit would be high. The worst part would be the collateral damage. Marie. She loved that douche, really loved him.
Horse didn’t see a happy ending.
If Marie was his old lady, he might be able to protect her brother a little better. Give him a chance to save his ass. As it stood, the fucker was toast, along with any chance Horse might have with Marie. Best-case scenario she’d never figure out what’d happened to Jeff, just spend the rest of her life wondering and suspecting that the Reapers’d killed him.
Best case. Worst?
LEO would show up at her door to tell her that Jeff’s body had been found in a shallow grave minus his balls and dick, an “R” for Reapers carved into his damned chest. But Marie didn’t want them to “hate each other” for what went down at the hot springs. That was the least of his worries, for chrissake.
Shit.
Horse thought about how hot she looked in the picture she’d texted him, the one where she was all dressed up to go out. Right on schedule his dick stood at attention, begging for a fuck as if Serena hadn’t just wrung him dry.
Marie’s picture was cute and sexy, just like her. She’d taken it in the bathroom mirror, all dressed up to go party with her friend. Little black dress, showing off way too much of her cleavage. And her legs… He couldn’t see all of those legs, but any fucker standing next to her would see them and more if she bent over even a little bit. And those fishnet tights? Fuckin’ A.
He reached down and grabbed his cock, sliding his hand up and down the length roughly. He hunted for his phone with the other, wanting to pull up the pic, but it wasn’t on the bedside table.
Shit, he’d left it at the clubhouse last night.
Didn’t matter, her image was burned in his brain. He’d about lost his mind the night she’d sent it to him. She looked fantastic, no question. But his woman shouldn’t be going out dressed like that without him there to protect her. Every man in the place would take one look at those legs and see themselves bending her over a table, shoving their dicks right up her ass.
The thought of her down and spread on a table made Horse gasp, pre-come dripping down his erection. He slid his hand up, smearing the fluid around, and started jacking himself seriously. He could see it already. He’d walk up to her in the club, right behind her where she couldn’t see. She’d be talking to her girlfriend, laughing and sipping on some kind of pink girly shit, because Marie was all girl. Her lips would wrap around that straw, sucking down the booze like she’d suck down his come after blowing him.
Horse slid his fingers up, catching more of the pre-come oozing out and circled his head with it. Fuck, that felt good. What did it say about a man when jacking off to a memory felt better than a hot bitch like Serena doing a reverse cowgirl?
Horse felt a climax building in his swollen balls, a shitload of come just for Marie. She had the hottest mouth, the softest hands and a pussy he’d die for. He couldn’t wait to blow all over her tits and make her rub it while she fingered herself.
Why the hell hadn’t he managed to fuck her yet?
Time to fix that. He’d walk up behind her, reach around and take the drink out of her hand, setting it on the table. Then he’d grab her around the waist before she could complain, swinging her little body up into his arms and carrying her right into the bathroom.
Ass like hers was too hot to wait until they got home.
She’d probably bitch a little when he bent her over, but he’d shut her up, warning her to brace against the counter. Damn, but his girl could bitch about anything. The thought of Marie’s face, all pissed off at him for calling her sweet butt, made his cock jerk, and he had to stop moving for a second.
No good, blowing your wad before the best part.
After a minute he’d cooled off enough to let the fantasy play out.
He’d push her over and slide his hands under that little dress, pulling it up until he saw the small of her back. Those fishnets would be hooked to a garter belt, with a black thong to match. He’d reach down and push the narrow flap of fabric aside, sliding his finger into her cunt to feel just how hot and tight she was.
She might complain, but Marie was always ready for him, no question. Horse let the fantasy take over again. Fuck…
In his mind he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to pull out his cock and balls, rubbing his cock head against the crease of her ass. She shivered, and he slid off those naughty little panties of hers, dropping them to the floor. She stepped out of them and set her high heels wide, tilting up her ass and inviting him right on in.
Be rude to turn down an invitation like that.
He reached down, grabbing the tip of his cock, sliding it along the slit of her pussy a couple of times before settling himself. Then he took her hips in his hands, holding her tight, and thrust himself all the way in. She screamed, muscles tightening up around his cock. He should have taken it slower, she’d probably never had a man so big inside before.
“Sorry, baby,” he muttered.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, sucking in deep breaths. He felt her membranes tighten around him, twitching and squeezing him harder than that goddamn masseuse from the spa in downtown Spokane. So fuckin’ hot. Horse couldn’t wait any longer.
Slowly he pulled out as she gripped him, muscles twitching. He retreated almost all the way, feeling her lips tighten around the rim of his head before slamming back into her.
Things got wild after that.
It took everything he had to stay upright as he fucked Marie. She gasped each time he bottomed out, cunt wrapped around him so tight it almost hurt. Fuck, she felt good. Again and again he forced his way into her small body, until he felt his balls drawing up, ready to blow his load straight into her womb.
Marie was close, too. She’d gotten so wet and sloppy that every thrust squelched and she kept begging him for more, to fuck her harder. He leaned over, covering her body with his, bracing himself against the counter with one hand while the other searched for her clit.
There it was.
Horse thrust his finger against it, too far gone to be subtle or gentle. Apparen
tly she didn’t mind, because as soon as he touched it she blew up like a fuckin’ bomb around him, screaming. It felt incredible, the way her entire body centered on him, gripping him, begging for his come.
He’d give it to her too.
Horse released her clit, leaning both arms against the counter as he started really hammering her. Their grunts mixed as he took her, branding her as his and fucking her so hard she’d feel his cock in the back of her throat.
Marie. His girl.
His property.
Only his.
Horse blew up, coming so hard he forgot to breathe. He let his hand fall away from his cock, dropping the fantasy. Then he started laughing at himself right there in his bedroom, the sound anything but funny because fucking Marie in his head was better than fucking Serena for real.
Might as well shoot himself, get it over with.
Horse pulled up to the clubhouse, cutting it far too close for church.
One of the prospects stood in the parking lot outside, watching the bikes and keeping an eye on the gate. The Reapers bought the old National Guard armory fifteen years back. With its concrete block construction, walled courtyard and small windows it was perfect, both as a clubhouse and a fortress. Not that they’d come under attack recently. The Reapers were indisputably dominant in the area, with all other clubs operating only with their blessing. That was the subject of the meeting.
Protecting that dominance.
Horse walked into the clubhouse, which was first and foremost a lounge and hangout area. There were rooms upstairs kitted out for overnight visits, of course, and some storage, but they never kept anything too sensitive there. At least nothing where LEO could ever find it. The cops didn’t show up often, but the times they’d brought warrants they hadn’t found jack shit.
The girls needed to come through and clean the place out, Horse decided, looking around the clubhouse with distaste. Debris from last night’s party still littered the tables, couches and the long bar along one wall. Most of them were probably still sleeping it off upstairs, although a dirty blonde wearing a tight jean skirt and halter top was passed out on the couch, legs spread wide. Thank God he didn’t live here anymore; now that he had his own place he cringed at what used to seem normal in terms of hygiene.
