Reaper's Property

by Joanna Wylde

  “Oh, she’s definitely screwing me on purpose,” Horse replied, deadpan.

  “Fuck you,” Ruger replied, grinning. “You know what I mean. She’s the victim in this situation and she believes in her brother. She tells him about your day-to-day life, he puts that together with a couple other sources, could add up. You don’t tell her about club business, but she sure as shit knows when we’re on a long run. All the women do. Fuck, for all we know he’s on Facebook with them or something, pretending to be some chick they know. You get enough old ladies talking about their men being gone, it adds up.”

  “Shit,” muttered Horse, shaking his head. “Never thought of that. This is a pain in the ass, you know that?”

  “Ya think?” Ruger asked, rubbing a hand across his tattooed scalp and the short buzz of his mohawk. “So you want cameras on her. Sure you don’t want something inside the room too?”

  “Nope, don’t want your sick ass watching us fuck,” Horse replied. “But I do want to check on her, make sure nobody’s lingering, trying to get to her. You know what I mean? Oh, and a GPS on her car. Want to be able to find her. Make sure she doesn’t see you, want to keep her safe, not freak her out more.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now I need someone sucking my dick, and unless you’re planning to share your old lady, I got higher priorities than this conversation.”

  Ruger grinned and Horse laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it hard enough to leave marks.

  “Touch Marie and I’ll cut off your balls.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ruger replied. “So much for taking care of your brothers, you cock-blocking bastard. Talk to me tomorrow and I’ll set it up to feed to your phone, along with the computers.”

  “Thanks, man,” Horse said.

  The party was raging back in the main lounge. Two girls were bumping and grinding each other up on one end of the bar, and a third served up body shots in the middle. Duck, the filthy old pervert, sat back on a couch with a barely legal redhead eating out his mouth with her hand thrust down between them, working furiously. Picnic caught Horse’s eye across the room, apparently finished with his important business in the office. The man gave a chin jerk, inviting Horse to join the Portland and LeGrande officers at his table.

  “Interesting times,” Picnic said as Horse grabbed a seat. “Deke tells me the Portland boys are itching for this.”

  “Glad for the excuse,” Deke said. “Jacks’ve always been trouble, we all know that, but they’ve been working up on us for a while. Nothing too overt, always just this side of what’s acceptable behavior. Wearing their cuts on our territory, dicking with support clubs, that kind of thing. There’s a group of them that’s set up near Brooklyn Park. They’re just camping in some shitty rental and doing their thing like they think they’re citizens or something. I know two of them are going to school at PSU, if you can believe it, and they aren’t doing anything for us to call them on, besides existing and being general assholes. No respect.”

  “They’re up to something,” Horse replied as yet another half-naked girl set a beer down in front of him. “They always are. Shit, if it was us, we’d be up to something.”

  They all laughed, knowing he was right.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Deke replied. “And since we’re the ones losing shipments, I’m thinking there’s a good chance the leak is close to home. But no matter how much we check on the local guys, we haven’t caught them doing shit. I wanted to ask you about this Jensen guy. How good with computers is he? Do you really think he could hack in, pull stuff from our home computers, that kind of thing?”

  “Yeah, he’s good,” Horse said. “Guys like him are why I do the books on a laptop without a wireless card. Lock it in a safe, back it up once a week and keep that backup in a different safe. That’s the only kind of computer security we can really trust.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Deke replied. He tugged on his short, black goatee, shaking his head. The Portland president was a big guy with long, black hair he kept in a ponytail. His arms were covered in full-sleeve tattoos, and the rumor was he operated as national’s unofficial hit man. Horse didn’t doubt it for a minute. “We find him, we have to get rid of him unless he hands us the Jacks. Even then, might have to get rid of him.”

  Horse nodded, knowing the truth of it. Fuck, this was gonna kill Marie.

  “If it comes down to that, can you make it an accident? Maybe in a couple of months?”

  “I can,” Deke replied, glancing over at Picnic, who shrugged. “Gotta tell you, I’m a little concerned about your commitment on this one, Horse. You seem more worried about your girl’s feelings than someone fucking with the club. We got a problem?”

  Horse shook his head.

  “No problem,” he replied. “This is my life, I know that and she knows it too. Just hoping to walk out alive and still keep my old lady. We all make sacrifices. Hoping mine isn’t bigger than it needs to be.”

  “Good to hear,” Deke said. “I’ll keep that in mind. Make our lives easier if the Jacks killed him anyway.”

  “That’s the truth,” Picnic said. “But don’t count on it—they’ve never done anything to help us before, doubt they’ll start now. Wish we had better control over the timing, but it’ll be good to take them down, especially given your situation, Deke. But that’s enough business. I know you boys had a long ride today. Time for some hospitality.”

  Picnic glanced around, spotting a couple of girls standing not too far away. He whistled, calling them over.

  “Take care of Deke and Grenade for me, will you?”

  They smiled and obediently moved toward the visiting charter officers. Picnic looked at Horse and cocked an eyebrow.

  “You planning to partake tonight?”

  Horse shook his head.

  “Got something better waiting for me upstairs,” he said. “Giving her some time to settle in, get used to what’s happening. That’s all.”

  “Some men say a brother who’s afraid to enjoy pussy at a party is a pussy himself,” Picnic replied. “Who’s in charge, you or the old lady?”

  Horse laughed.

  “You’re full of shit,” he replied. “When your old lady was alive, you were a monk. I saw how it was.”

  Picnic looked thoughtful and took a long pull of his beer. Then he looked up and held Horse’s gaze.

  “Caught a lot of shit for that,” he said. “But I’m telling you, I’d give every piece of ass I’ve had in my life for another day with that woman. This,” he continued, gesturing toward the party. “This is good fun. But it’s not the real thing. We’ll do our best to protect your girl. And if we take out Jensen, we’ll do it quiet. Want you to know that.”

  “Thanks,” Horse said. “You’re a good brother.”

  “That’s what it’s all about,” Picnic replied. He smiled. “What I said aside, my old lady may not be here, but remembering her makes me horny as fuck. Girl in the office only took the edge off. Think I’ll do something about that.”

  Picnic got up, moving toward another group of giggling women. Hands came around Horse’s head from behind, covering his eyes as a warm body pressed into his back.

  “Hey sexy,” said a woman’s voice. He recognized it instantly and smiled broadly. Serena. He pulled her hands off and stood to hug her.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, stepping back to take her in. “Fantastic like always. Haven’t been around at all lately, what’s up with that?”

  She offered a knowing smile.

  “I’ve got a new man, I think. Guy from California, comes up here on his private jet, that kind of thing. Been seeing him for a while, but his divorce is final now, so he’s got a little more freedom. We’ve been hanging out. I’m thinking about heading south with him, unless there’s a better reason for me to stay around here…”

  Horse caught the unasked question and shook his head ruefully.

  “I’m taken, babe.”

  She nodded, looking a little wistfu
l but not unhappy or surprised. That was Serena—always a realist, and a good friend too. He’d been hooking up with her on and off since high school, and she was one of the few women he’d slept with that he actually liked and trusted.

  “I heard rumors,” she replied. “Kind of scary rumors, to be honest. Answer me one question and I’ll leave you alone. She a prisoner?”

  Horse shrugged.

  “I told her she can leave, but her brother’s under a sentence. It’s way beyond her now, he’s on his own at this point.”

  Serena studied his face, then shook her head.

  “You’re tricky,” she replied. “You ‘told’ her she can leave? Does she know you lied?”

  “We’re not having this conversation,” Horse said, his voice firm. Serena laughed.

  “Okay, big boy. Just asking. I always thought the two of us might make something of it, that kind of thing. But I’m happy for you, Horse, I really am. You’re one of the good ones. Buy a lady a drink, for old times’ sake?”

  He offered her his arm as they headed toward the bar. Just one girl danced on top now, and she’d lost her clothes. The other was down on a couch, one of the brothers from LeGrande eating her out while she gave a blowjob to another. It didn’t interest him much, which made Horse feel sort of old and jaded. He might be taken, but a man could still look. But honestly, it just seemed so boring.

  He snagged a couple of beers for them from the bar and looked around for a spot quiet enough to talk, but it wasn’t happening.

  “Let’s go upstairs to the game room.”

  Nearly half of the armory’s the second floor was a large, open room where they’d set up pool tables, an air hockey table and a bunch of old couches. There was a big-screen TV up against one wall hooked to the satellite and about six different kinds of video consoles. Later on people might bed down in here, but for now it was quiet. Down the hallway was a series of rooms they used for all kinds of things, from storing extra inventory for the businesses to privacy for a quickie. He escorted Serena to the couch in front of the TV. She looked around, eyes lingering on the hallway.

  “The room in use tonight?”

  Horse grimaced and shrugged.

  “Who knows,” he said. “Nobody makes ’em do it. You starting to judge?”

  She shook her head and laughed, leaning toward him to brush her hand along his cut.

  “Babe, I’ve spent a night or two in there myself,” she replied, winking. “I think you were off with the Marines or something.”

  “You mean you were with someone else while I was gone?” he asked, clutching a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. She burst out laughing.

  “You know me. I’ll stand by my man so long as he’s in the room and has a pile of cash.”

  Horse laughed with her, loving her honesty. Being with Serena was comfortable, no question. A part of him wished he could care about her the way he did about Marie. They would’ve been a good pair, and she sure as shit knew her way around the club. Intimately. Yeah, that wouldn’t work, he decided. Someone took her as property the other old ladies would probably kill her.

  Or she’d kill them, he decided, eyeing the long, red talons she called fingernails.

  “What’s the look for?” she asked, arching a brow.

  “Just wondering who’d win if you got into it with the old ladies,” he answered. “I’m not sure.”

  She burst out laughing so hard that she snorted beer out her nose, which made her laugh more. That’s what he loved about Serena—whatever she did, she did it openly and without any pretense. He took the glass from her, looking around to find something to help her clean up. There was an old sweatshirt tucked into the end of the couch, so he snagged it and leaned toward her, helping to wipe off her chest and lap. Serena didn’t help, giggling and slapping at him.

  “You’re just trying to cop a feel, you dirty bastard!” she exclaimed. He grinned at her.

  “Yeah, you know me. Always looking for my next lay.”

  Then a voice cut through his laughter and it was his turn to choke.

  “I can see why you t-t-t-told me to wait upst-t-t-t-tairs.”

  Horse turned his head to see Marie standing behind the couch, wrapped in a blanket, face pale and teeth chattering.

  “Well, shit,” he muttered. Serena looked between them, eyes wide.

  “I take it this is the old lady?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marie

  I couldn’t get the window closed.

  It was stupid to open it but I’ve got a bit of a claustrophobia thing. To be fair, I was stuck in a room alone all by myself, and it wasn’t a particularly big room. I heard the noise of the party below and I knew that Horse would be up eventually. But the bars on the window and the fact that I couldn’t make contact with Jeff and I couldn’t leave made me feel a little panicky.

  So I decided to open the window for some fresh air.

  Of course it was stuck, so I worked at it, rocking the old wooden sash back and forth until I got my fingers underneath. Then I braced against the floor and pushed up with all I had. Because I have shitty luck, it held for a second then burst free, sliding all the way up and getting stuck again, this time open. It took about ten minutes before I realized this might be a serious problem. The place was heated with one of those big old freestanding radiators that didn’t have separate controls for individual rooms, so I couldn’t turn it up. It hadn’t been too warm in here to begin with. Outside the night was cold and clear and perfect, the evergreens on the hillsides surrounding us dusted with a hint of frost like something out of a Christmas card.

  Now it was becoming cold and clear but not-so-perfect in the room.

  I tried to get it closed of course. And I put on my coat, but it was just my leather jacket and not particularly warm. I’d been looking for a winter coat but they all cost so much and I didn’t like spending money, so I’d been hunting in consignment shops for just the right thing. I started pacing, trying to decide what to do next. I dug in my purse, pushing aside my gun to find my phone. Not that I carried the gun all the time, but Horse wanted it with me until they dealt with the Jacks.

  No voicemails or texts, but I decided I might as well check my email. There was a new message from Jeff on the webmail account. I start reading, a sinking sensation filling my stomach.

  Sis, I’m glad they haven’t hurt you. You need to play along and do what they ask, don’t give them any reason not to treat you well. I’m sending a decoy message to your main account too, telling you that I’m thinking about getting in touch with them. But you need to know the Reapers are bad guys and they won’t hesitate to kill you. Neither will the Devil’s Jacks, but I’ve got things worked out with them so that you and I should be okay.

  Couple of things you need to know. You say it’s good between you and Horse, and that scares me. He’s stringing you along, you can’t trust this guy at all. I’ve learned a lot about him. Did you know he was special forces in Afghanistan? His specialty was recon, which means they’d send him out ahead to get information and do their dirty work. He killed a lot of people and he got investigated for murdering civilians. Women and children, sis. They were going to court martial him, but then the witnesses either wouldn’t talk or disappeared. It was a cover-up, that’s the only explanation. They couldn’t even give him a dishonorable discharge, that’s how sneaky he was. Here are some links to articles about the massacre. I found other records too, but I can’t send them to you, it’s too dangerous.

  Your boyfriend is a killer and if he finds out you know the truth, he’ll probably kill you too. Do what he says and play the good girl. Write to me on the other email account and I’ll pretend to cooperate. Play dumb and be ready. I’ll contact you again later this week when I have things set up. Remember, it’s not enough for you to just hop in your car and drive away. They may look like a club, but they’re like the mafia. We need an escape plan for all of us, you, me and Mom, and I’m working on it. Just hold on a little longer. />
  I love you and I’m sorry I got you into this. You’ll never know how sorry I am.

  Jeff

  I followed the link to a news story from eight years ago. A bunch of Afghani families were murdered in their houses, located in a region under the control of US allies, but heavily infiltrated by Taliban forces as well. A Marine recon team was under investigation for war crimes. Included was a picture of a much younger Horse, in one of those standard military mug shots you see all the time.

  I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up.

  Afterward I lay down on the bed, wrapping the covers around me and listening to the noise of the party below. An hour passed before I realized that no matter how depressed I felt, I couldn’t just stay in the bed. The room was bitter cold now, and the blankets nowhere near thick enough to protect me. I tried texting Picnic with numb fingers. No response. I thought about calling one of the girls, but with the party going on below I knew that was a bad idea. Jeff said to keep the Reapers happy. I ran a hundred different ideas through my head and then texted Horse. Nothing. Then I called him. No answer.

  That’s when I ventured out of my room into the hallway. I knew there were other rooms up here, it’s where they put up guests or members when they needed a place to land. I could go to one of those and warm up while I waited. The doors were all locked, though. Now my teeth were chattering and I fumbled to hold the blanket around me. No getting around it—I needed to go downstairs and find Horse.

  The third floor of the building was only about half as wide as the first two, just one long hallway running the length of the building with a single row of rooms on either side. There were stairwells on each end. The main stairs, which I’d come up with Horse, intersected the game room and the main lounge. But the back stairwell bypassed the game room entirely and let out down by the offices. I figured I’d attract less attention there, so that’s where I went. Unfortunately, the door was locked on the main level, which left me to go back up or out into the cold of the courtyard. Easy call. I climbed back up to the second floor, pushing through the door from the stairwell as quietly as possible. I heard voices and grunting and shouts coming from an open door on my left. I walked toward it slowly, hoping I’d find Horse in there.