Reaper's Property (Reapers MC #1)

by Joanna Wylde

  Cookie watched them with dead eyes while Silvie pressed her little face to the glass, fascinated. When we finally arrived at the cemetery, the limo stopped and we got out. The Reapers came behind us, more of them than I’d ever seen. It seemed like hundreds, although I learned later there were only about a hundred and twenty-five. Behind them rode other clubs and veterans’ groups, followed by an endless line of cars.

  There were also active-duty servicemen in dress uniforms and even the local high school marching band, wearing poorly fitted black suits instead of their usual flamboyant regalia. It took nearly an hour before everyone could park, so we made Cookie get back into the car to wait. I climbed into another limo with Silvie and let her play on my phone.

  Finally everyone had arrived, and we congregated around the gravesite. Once again, I felt like I was far too close to the front for a woman who’d never met Bagger. So many people had known and loved him. But Silvie wanted me, so I stood to one side of Cookie’s chair, bouncing her in my arms. The service was a strange mix of military formality and biker tradition. Instead of the Marine honor guard serving as pallbearers, Cookie had requested Horse, Ruger, Picnic, Duck and Bam Bam. They carefully carried the flag-draped coffin from the hearse to the grave. There were three on one side and only two on the other, something I’d never seen at a funeral before.

  “Cookie wanted them to leave a spot open for Bolt,” Maggs whispered next to me, choking up a little. I felt my own eyes tear up, amazed that even in the depths of her grief, Bagger’s wife would remember Bolt and honor his friendship with her husband. Once the coffin was settled, the preacher spoke and so did some of the guys from the club. The band played the Star Spangled Banner.

  Then the military honors began.

  A group of ten young Marines in full dress uniform had been standing patiently off to the side during the service. Their commander called them to attention and gave out a series of orders. Then seven of them raised rifles and shot three perfectly timed volleys in unison. The sound split the air like thunder, so loud it rattled off the hills. Cookie shuddered at every shot, like they were firing right through her. Silvie squealed as I covered her little ears.

  One of the remaining Marines raised a bugle to his lips and played Taps, the haunting song echoing through the eerie silence of the cemetery. Silvie squirmed in my arms and started to fuss. The commander and remaining man walked carefully over to the coffin and lifted the flag, stepping to the side and away from the casket, folding it carefully into a star-spangled, blue triangle.

  Finally, when it was perfect, the commander walked forward to Cookie and leaned forward to present her with the flag, voice carrying in the cold, still air.

  “On behalf of the president of the United States, the commandant of the Marine Corps and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s service to country and corps.”

  Cookie took the flag and cradled it against her chest, utterly silent, as Bagger’s mother sobbed loudly. Silvie crumpled up her face and started crying, too, and I decided she’d had enough. I made my way to the back of the crowd and walked across the frosted grass quickly, which seemed to distract the little girl. I put her in the car seat now permanently installed in my vehicle, sitting down to turn on the engine and get the heater going. A knock on the window startled me and I gave a little scream, which made Silvie burst into tears again.

  Max stood outside.

  I wanted to hit the gas and run him over. Instead I lowered the window a crack and glared at him.

  “I need to get Silvie out of here,” I said, filling my tone with ice.

  “I know,” he said. “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened. What I did to you was out of line, so out of line, and there’s nothing I can do or say to make up for that. But I’m worried about you leaving by yourself. I just got a text from a friend who says he saw four of the Devil’s Jacks eating at Zip’s. There’s only one reason they’re in town, and I don’t think you’ll be safe if you leave by yourself. Let me make sure you and Silvie get back to the Armory okay.”

  “You’re the last person I’d trust,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I know,” he replied, face full of remorse that seemed real, but who could tell? “I deserve that. But Horse shouldn’t have to leave right now. If he had any idea the Jacks are already in town, he’d be with you already. But think about this—with the way everyone’s on edge, things could get pretty ugly if there’s a confrontation. Horse isn’t in a good place.”

  He had a point.

  I didn’t want Horse to wind up in jail. I didn’t want any of them in jail, and I definitely didn’t want Bagger’s funeral to turn into a debacle.

  “Let me drive home with you,” he said. “I’ll keep my hands to myself and my mouth shut. Email Horse right now, so if I pull something he’ll know we’re together. Then text him as soon as we get there, once the service is over. That should make you feel safer. Please, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Silvie. If they spot you, they’ll move in and they’ll take her, too. I can’t let that happen to Bagger’s kid. It’s one last thing I can do for him.”

  That convinced me. Max was right—whatever was between us, Silvie needed to be safe and I really didn’t want to pull Horse away from the funeral. I might loathe Max, but he was loyal to the club. Horse hated him too, but he’d told me time and again that he’d trust any of the Reapers with his life. Max was still one of his brothers, and the only thing that scared me more than the thought of the Jacks catching me was the thought of them hurting Silvie. Even Max at his worst would be better than that.

  “Get in the car,” I said, sighing. “Don’t talk to me or touch me.”

  He nodded and walked around to the passenger’s side, sliding in as I sent Horse a quick email, not wanting to risk bothering him with a text. The fact that Max didn’t reach for the car keys impressed me—Horse never let me drive, and based on what the other girls said, it was a common bone of contention. Reapers liked to be in control. I turned on the radio and drove straight to the Armory. Max kept his word. No talking, no touching, nothing until I turned the car off.

  “I’ll walk you in and make sure the prospects are on top of things,” he said. “Then I’m going back to talk with Picnic and the guys, give them a heads-up. Nobody will want to leave the reception or party, but we need to be aware. Don’t go outside, okay?”

  I nodded, still feeling nervous when he looked at me. I’d never feel safe around that man. We walked inside to find Painter and a couple other prospects from different charters hanging around. Painter didn’t look too thrilled when he glanced from me to Max, but I caught his eye and flashed him a quick thumbs-up. Then I took Silvie into the kitchen for a sandwich.

  While she tucked in her food, I messaged Horse and let him know where I was, and that Max had escorted me without incident. He didn’t respond, which wasn’t a surprise. I took Silvie up to my room and laid her down for a nap, thankful that I’d been able to help and bemused that Max had proven capable of decency.

  Dancer came and took Silvie to a family friend’s house around seven that evening. People had been pouring into the Armory for hours by then. Cookie pulled herself together enough to eat dinner with her daughter and read her stories before Silvie left. I went to find Horse and see how he was holding up.

  I found him outside around yet another bonfire, with a mixed group of Reapers, Silver Bastards and family members. Like most wakes, it started off somber enough, but was growing louder as people shared beer and stories. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his stomach, resting my face against his back. After a while he pulled me around to his front, draping his arms over my shoulder and leaning down to whisper in my ear.

  “Thanks for everything today, babe,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to ride with Max. You made the right call, though. We’ve spotted the Jacks a couple of times, they’re definitely planning something. It’ll be good to finish this out.”

&nbs
p; I leaned back against him, drinking in his warmth and thinking about going back home together. I was tired of the Armory. I just hoped they managed to get rid of the Jacks without hurting Jeff…

  “Will it be dangerous?” I asked.

  “Not if we do it right,” he said. “We’re not stupid and this isn’t the first time we’ve had to protect what’s ours. Don’t worry about it, babe. Tonight’s about Bagger.”

  After a while I got cold, so I went inside to find Maggs and a bunch of women I didn’t know standing around the kitchen’s center island, passing a bottle of Jack Daniels. I didn’t feel much like drinking, but I joined the circle when Maggs waved me over. I was learning that the sisterhood of biker babes was bigger than I’d grasped. I saw respect and welcome in their eyes when she introduced me as Horse’s property, and for the first time the word didn’t bother me. It just meant something different to us than it did in the civilian world.

  Us.

  I was part of “us” now, I realized. These were my sisters, Horse was my man, and I could trust all the guys to keep an eye out for me, even Max. I still loathed him and he made my skin crawl, but he’d been watching out for me and Silvie in his own weird way today. It’d always been me and Mama and Jeff against the world—it felt good to have more.

  An air horn sounded at nine, calling everyone outside to the bonfire. I followed the girls and found Horse again, tucking myself into his arms to keep warm as Picnic stepped out in front of everyone, solemn. Cookie stood not far away, flanked by Maggs and Dancer. She looked unsteady but determined. She still wore her black dress, but she’d put her “property” vest on over it, trading her heels for black leather boots.

  “Tonight we say goodbye to a brother and a friend,” Picnic said, his voice hoarse. “He truly understood that brotherhood is forever, and that no matter what happens in this life, a real man never walks away before the fight is finished. No matter what, we stand together. He gave his life standing with his brothers in Afghanistan, and we’ll respect him for the rest of our lives.

  “Bagger wore the Reapers’ patch for ten years and always brought it honor. When he left for his last deployment, he gave his colors to me to keep safe. He’s Free Bird chapter now, and he doesn’t need his patches anymore. It’s time to send them back to him. We won’t forget. Reapers forever, forever Reapers.”

  A lot of the guys, including Horse, echoed his words like a mantra. Then everyone grew silent and the opening strains of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird started playing. Picnic stepped forward, holding up Bagger’s cut for all of us to see. He’d almost reached the fire when Cookie cried out.

  “Wait!” she said, pulling away from Maggs. “Wait for me. Mine’s going with his. They belong together.”

  I watched as she shrugged out of her “Property of Bagger, Reapers MC” vest and draped it over Bagger’s cut.

  “They go together,” she said again, voice breaking. Picnic shook his head and Maggs came up to her, taking her arm.

  “You’ll want it,” she said. “You aren’t thinking straight tonight. Bagger would want you to keep it.”

  “It belongs with his,” Cookie replied, her voice fierce.

  She and Picnic stared each other down for a minute as the song played, then he jerked his head once in acquiescence. Cookie sighed in relief and let Maggs pull her away, unsteady on her feet again, as if she’d used up all her energy on this final chore. The song soared around us as Picnic threw the two sets of patched leathers into the fire. All around me I heard women sniffling. Men blinked quickly, their eyes suspiciously moist. All too soon the song ended and the leather cuts were lost in the flame.

  It was official.

  Bagger had left the Reapers behind.

  I stood in a bathroom off the game room an hour later, fiddling with my hair and wishing I could leave. Horse needed space and wanted to be with his brothers. The women were friendly, but I didn’t know most of them and I didn’t want to intrude on their grief. The toilet flushed behind me as Cookie stepped out of the stall.

  “Hey,” I said, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to ask her how she felt or offer some empty platitude.

  “Hey,” she murmured, washing her hands. She looked in the mirror and then glanced at the door. Then she took a deep breath and touched my arm.

  “I need to get out of here,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “Can you take me home? Everyone’s drunk and I can’t find anyone to drive me. Are you sober? You look sober.”

  “Yeah,” I said, startled. “You really want to leave? Everyone’s here for you—”

  “No, I need to go right now,” she said, shaking her head with unnatural composure. “I’m holding on by a thread, and if I have to listen to his name or any more stories, I’m going to fall apart and I don’t want an audience. Not only that, they all say I shouldn’t be alone tonight and probably won’t let me leave. That’s not working for me. I’m not going to do anything stupid, but I can’t handle listening to a party when all I can think about is my husband lying cold and dead in the ground a mile from my house. Will you take me home?”

  There was only one answer to a statement like that.

  “Let me get my purse. I’ll meet you out front.”

  I ran upstairs and grabbed my things, trying to decide whether I should tell Horse. The Jacks were out, I knew that. But Horse needed his mourning time, and I didn’t want to take it away from him. Maybe I could find a prospect to go with us. Painter stood outside with a few other guys, but when I went up and asked him to drive home with me and Cookie, he said he needed to check with Picnic. Cookie paced nervously by my car and I could see her starting to visibly fall apart. What if Picnic didn’t want her to leave? Then Max walked around the corner and I made a snap decision.

  “Are you sober?” I asked him. He stopped, obviously startled.

  “Um, yeah, I am,” he replied. “Wanted to be alert if the Jacks showed up. Why?”

  “Cookie needs to go home and I’m taking her,” I said, putting my cards on the table. “I asked Painter to ride with us but he said he had to check with Picnic first, and Picnic might not let her leave. We have to get out of here now. Will you come with us?”

  “Sure,” he said, and we all got into the car, Cookie taking the backseat.

  During the drive my phone started ringing, Horse and Picnic both, so I let it go to voicemail. I’d deal with the fallout after I got Cookie home. None of us spoke on the way to her house and when we pulled up, she paused only long enough to thank us before heading inside.

  “You think she’ll be safe?” I asked Max. “I mean, from the Jacks?”

  “They won’t bother her,” he replied. “Not a war widow, not with this many guys in town. They go after her, even their own support clubs could turn on them. She’s untouchable. You aren’t, though. We should get back.”

  My phone rang and I grabbed it, wanting to reassure Horse. “Hey, babe, I’m sorry—”

  “Marie, it’s Jeff.”

  I stilled, eyes darting toward Max.

  “Um, yeah,” I replied, keeping my tone friendly and casual. “Just a sec.”

  I stepped out of the car and closed the door, strolling a few feet down the street in front so Max could see me without hearing me.

  “What are you doing, calling me?” I demanded. “You were supposed to email. What if someone else had answered? It’s after midnight, what if I’d been in bed with Horse?”

  “You’re not,” Jeff replied. “I know there’s a wake at the Armory. Are you there?”

  “No, I had to give someone a ride home,” I said quickly. “How did you find out about the wake?”

  “I know everything they do,” he said. “I’ve got things all set up now, it’s time for us to go. I want you to meet me out at Horse’s place. I’m in the barn.”

  “What? How is that even possible?”

  “I don’t have time for this,” he said sharply. “You need to get your ass out here so we can go. We’ll talk while we drive.”


  “I’m not alone. Max is with me.”

  “Lose him,” Jeff snapped.

  “I don’t think I can,” I replied. “They’re worried about the Jacks. He isn’t going to just hop out of the car. Jeff, you need to know I’m not going with you. I’m with Horse and I’m going to stay with him.”

  He sighed.

  “You’re brainwashed,” he said. “But I told you, Horse isn’t who you think he is. I have proof, I’ll show you. Everyone’s busy, they won’t have a clue until it’s too late. At least come and see what I’ve found. If you still want to stay after that, I’ll call off the Jacks and leave you alone.”

  “Max, remember?”

  “Bring him,” Jeff said. “Tell him you need something in the house, ask him to come with you. I’ve got a gun. We can tie him up while we talk, lock him in the tack room. He’ll be fine.”

  I felt my stomach sink.

  “This is a really bad idea, Jeff,” I said softly. “Think it through. What if it doesn’t work? He could kill you. You need to stop doing crazy things and deal with this situation in a way that doesn’t make it worse.”

  “You’re so damned naive,” he muttered, frustration clear in his voice. “Max is a violent criminal. All the Reapers are. You need to stop protecting them and think about your family. Now get your ass out here.”

  He hung up on me. I turned back to the car, pasting a fake smile on my face for Max’s benefit. No way I would be bringing him out to Horse’s place. Jeff had lost his mind. But I still wanted to talk to him and see if we could figure something less crazy out together. I also wanted to look at this proof of his. There had to be an explanation.

  “That was Maggs,” I said, climbing back into the car. “She wants us to stop by the grocery store and pick up some garbage bags. I guess they’ve run out and things are getting ugly. Let’s swing into Safeway, okay?”