Reaper's Property

by Joanna Wylde

  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.