Reapers and Bastards: A Reapers MC Anthology

by Joanna Wylde

  “Nice ass. Sweet. Butt,” I whispered softly.

  She bit me.

  Hard.

  I jumped back, ripping my ear out of her mouth, wondering if she’d taken a chunk with her. Holy shit—she bit me. A trickle of warm fluid ran down my neck. Blood. I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing because she was tiny and angry and hissing at me like a wet cat on top of the table. I wanted to fuck her more now than I had five minutes ago. Damn, though . . . my ear hurt. That wasn’t a love bite.

  Who was this woman?

  Marie scowled, her message coming through loud and clear.

  “I get it, hands off,” I said, shaking my head, holding up my arms in pointed surrender. My dick might not be amused by this turn of events, but for once I didn’t give a flying fuck what my dick wanted. I was having way too much fun. “Play it the way you like. And you’re right, we’ve got business. Go drive for an hour, that should be enough time.”

  Marie slid off the table, darting around me as she ran to her little piece-of-shit car. I followed, bemused, wondering if she had some magic power that turned grown men into pussies. Marie opened her car door but turned back to look at me, teeth worrying at her lip. I waited for whatever the hell would come out of her mouth. After that bite, I was on uncharted ground. At least it wasn’t boring.

  “Horse isn’t your real name, is it?”

  I smiled. Now that was better . . . Playtime wasn’t over yet, after all.

  “Road name,” I replied. “That’s the way things work in my world. Citizens have names. We have road names.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “People give them to you when you start riding. They can mean all kinds of things. Picnic got his name because he went all out planning some pansy-assed picnic for a bitch who had him twisted up in knots. She ate his food and drank his booze, then called her fuckwad boyfriend to come and pick her up while he took a leak.”

  She frowned.

  “That seems . . . unpleasant. Why would he want to remember that?”

  “Because when the fuckwad showed up, Picnic shoved his head through a picnic table.”

  Her breath caught and I saw indecision written all over her face.

  “And Max?”

  “When he gets drunk, sometimes his eyes go all wide and he looks fuckin’ crazy, like Mad Max.”

  “I see,” she said, glancing toward the trailer. I waited, but she kept her mouth closed. Smart girl. I’d be damned if I’d let her off the hook that easy, though.

  “So aren’t you gonna ask?” Silence fell between us, then she opened her mouth.

  “So why are you called Horse?”

  “’Cause I’m hung like one,” I replied, unable to control my smirk. She blushed hard and ducked in the car. I had to jump back and away as she jammed it into gear and peeled out of the driveway.

  Now that was fun.

  And weird.

  I still wanted to nail her, probably more now than before. But that little exchange—bite and all—that’d been better than the average blow job.

  Go figure.

  ________

  “The money’s all there,” I said, clicking through the list of accounts. I glanced over at Jeff, who sat by the kitchen bar smoking a little glass pipe. He’d gone from jittery to stoned in the time I’d been outside with Marie. Hadn’t seen that coming. Pic must’ve really wanted the asshole to shut up, because normally he’d never tolerate someone getting faded before business was finished.

  “Of course it’s all there,” Jeff said lazily. “I already told you. It was just a little mistake and I fixed it. I don’t know why you got so worked up about it.”

  “I got worked up because I thought you were stealing,” I replied. “And you know what happens to people who steal from the club. We need to go over the rules again?”

  Jeff took a long hit, then started coughing, smoke shooting out of his nose in little puffs. He grabbed his beer and sucked it down before answering.

  “You don’t have to keep threatening me. I knew what I was getting into. We’ve been working together for nearly two years and I’ve never screwed you, have I? Trust needs to go both ways.”

  Max snorted and for once I didn’t consider telling him to shut up.

  “Tell me about your sister.”

  Jeff’s face sobered and he set down his pipe.

  “Marie’s been through a lot,” he replied. “She doesn’t need any more trouble, Horse.”

  “Who hit her?”

  “Her husband,” Jeff said. “Always hated him. She left his ass, thank God. She deserves a little happiness. No offense, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave her alone.”

  “Now you’re telling me what to do?”

  Jeff straightened, and for the first time in a year he looked almost like a man instead of a weasel.

  “She’s a good girl, Horse,” he said firmly. “She’s been through hell, she’s finally free, and she doesn’t need anyone new in her life. She needs to get a divorce and go to school and then meet some nice guy with a steady job who’ll treat her like a queen. Let it go.”

  “Damn, that almost sounded like something a decent human being would say,” Max muttered. “I think we may have a body snatchers situation going on here.”

  “Think what you like,” Jeff said, shrugging. “But it’s the truth. She’s rid of Gary and pretty soon she’s gonna realize she’s free to do anything she wants. I won’t have her wasting that freedom on some biker who’ll treat her like shit. And don’t bother waiting for her to come back. I already texted her and told her to stay away.”

  I shrugged, not entirely surprised. When a chick bit my ear and told me to fuck off, it wasn’t usually a sign I’d be getting laid that night. My cock might be pissed about it, but I’d started to realize just how much more I wanted from Marie. Hot pussy crawled out of the woodwork at the club, nothing special about it . . .

  A sweet girl like her was a hell of a lot harder to find.

  Jeff sat waiting, apparently expecting some sort of violent outburst, so I gave him a nice big smile, just to fuck with his head.

  “Tell her I said good-bye,” I told him. “I’ll be back before long to check up on things. I’ve got what I need, should be able to monitor the rest from home.”

  I looked to my brothers to make sure he hadn’t missed something. Max cracked his knuckles and Picnic nodded, satisfied.

  “I don’t want to breathe in any more of Jeff-hole’s secondhand smoke,” I said. “You ready, Pic?”

  “Sure,” Picnic replied, and Max pulled himself up off the couch, stretching. Thankfully, Jeff kept his stupid mouth shut as we went outside.

  Night had fallen, and while the air was still warm, it didn’t hold the punishing heat we’d experienced earlier. Riding home across the desert wouldn’t be half bad.

  I kicked my bike to life, following my club president down the long driveway through the apple trees.

  Hadn’t been such a shitty trip after all.

  Hopefully, Marie wouldn’t tear up my other ear too bad during our next fight.

  Marie’s Bread Recipe

  Ingredients

  4 ½ teaspoons (or two packets) of rapid rise yeast 2 ½ cups warm water

  1 tablespoon salt

  1 tablespoon olive oil

  7 cups all-purpose flour

  2 handfuls mixed grated cheese (your choice—I often just grab an Italian mix) 1/4 cup (approximately) grated parmesan 2 large spoonfuls chopped garlic (slightly less if using fresh garlic, although I often use the prepared chopped garlic in a bottle for convenience—if it’s a squeeze bottle, I do two very large gloops) Italian herb mix 1 egg white mixed with 1 tablespoon cold water Corn meal

  Preparation

  Note: I use a Kitchenaid mixer with a dough hook to make bread. If you make the bread by hand, follow basic bread dough preparation instructions out of any cookbook.

  Put warm water and yeast in mixing bowl and allow to proof (3-4 minutes). Follow with flour and s
alt, then add in oil, two handfuls of cheese, garlic, and a generous shake of Italian herb mix. (I’ve never measured this, but don’t be afraid to pour it on—the recipe makes two loaves of bread, which means you want to put in plenty.) Allow dough hook to mix until the bread is fully kneaded. (About four minutes on my machine.) Place bread in a greased bowl and allow to double in size. Punch down, then divide into two parts. Using a rolling pin, spread each dough ball out into a rectangle, then roll up along the long side to create a skinny loaf. Place on a baking pan that’s been lined with foil, greased, and sprinkled with cornmeal. (Be sure the seam is on the bottom.) Allow to rise until double in size.

  Before baking bread, make four thin slices diagonally across the top to give it some texture, then sprinkle with parmesan. Bake at 450 for 20 minutes, then remove from oven. Brush with egg white mixed with cold water to create a glaze. Cook for an additional five minutes then allow to cool before slicing.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: The top request I get from readers is for a short story about Horse and Marie, telling what happened to them after Reaper’s Property. “Skunked” is that story. If you haven’t read Reaper’s Property, you can still read “Skunked”—it doesn’t have any plot spoilers, aside from the fact that Reaper’s Property ended with them together as a couple, which shouldn’t come as a huge surprise for most romance readers.

  “Skunked” takes place several years after the end of Reaper’s Property. I got the idea late one night after something rather unpleasant happened with our dog . . .

  SKUNKED

  HORSE

  Christ, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this tired.

  We’d been on a five-day run to Boise and had spent the night before camped out. I was tired, grumpy, and more than a little horny—something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the bitch who’d kept grabbing for my cock at the last clubhouse we’d visited. I’d managed to fight her off, but this celibacy shit was getting old.

  I wanted my old lady, and I wanted her now.

  Turning down our driveway, I saw Marie’s car in front of the house. She hadn’t answered her phone all day—this wasn’t like her. I’d assumed if something was really wrong, someone would’ve gotten hold of me. Still, it was a relief to find her at home. I wanted a cold beer, a hot shower, and a blow job.

  Could only accomplish two of the three on my own.

  Parking my bike, I decided to leave my saddlebags for now and head toward the house. The door wasn’t locked. I stepped into the living room, looking around for her. The lights were on and so was the TV, but no sign of my girl.

  “Marie?”

  Nothing.

  I passed through the living room and started down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  “Babe, you in here?”

  “In the back,” she replied, her voice faint. Entering the kitchen, I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she seemed out of it—almost dazed.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” I asked. She jumped, looking toward me with something like fear in her expression. Jesus, had someone hurt her? A burst of adrenaline rushed through me—nobody touched my woman. I’d fucking kill them. She didn’t say anything, though. “Marie?”

  She shook herself, almost as if she needed to wake up.

  “Sorry, I was sort of lost in my thoughts.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She stared at me for several seconds, her mouth tight. “We need to talk.”

  Great—words every man loves to hear. So much for my “welcome home” blow job.

  “About what?” I asked warily.

  “Sit down,” she murmured, glancing away from me. “You want a beer?”

  Up to that point, a beer had been damned high on my list of priorities. Now? Not so much. I pulled out a chair at the big wooden block that served as our kitchen table and sat down with a thump, leaning back. Then I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “So let’s talk,” I told her, forcing myself to stay patient. Marie swallowed, then reached for the cup of tea sitting on the block in front of her, taking a nervous sip.

  “Okay, so here goes,” she said quietly, refusing to look at me. “We’ve got some big changes ahead of us. You need to remember that it just happened, babe. It’s not like I did it on purpose. Please remember that.”

  She shot me another quick look, her face full of dread. Put that together with the puffy eyes and I realized we were in the shit. Deep shit. Had she cheated on me? Rage roared through my soul, drowning out my ability to think.

  Whoever the fuck the guy was, I wouldn’t just kill him. I’d kill him slow. Wasn’t sure what I’d do to Marie. Jesus. Never saw it coming, not even for a minute. I’d thought my wife was happy.

  “Tell me,” I ordered her, my voice cold. I forced the feelings down, burying them deep under a layer of ice. Hold it together, don’t do anything stupid ’til you hear her out.

  “Okay, so while you were gone I—”

  A piercing howl tore through the kitchen from behind the house, followed by a series of agonized, terrifying yelps.

  Marie’s eyes widened and she jumped to her feet. “That was Ariel!”

  Another howl tore through the air. Sure as shit, she was right—that was definitely our dog. Good God, of all the fucking times for the mutt to go apeshit. Marie was halfway to the door when I caught her, instinctively jerking her behind my body as I pulled out my gun.

  “Stay inside,” I told her. “Could be anything.”

  Full of dark purpose, I reached for the door handle—irony, anyone? Here I was, ready to do anything to protect this woman, even though she’d probably cheated on me. Fuck it. Opening the door, I looked outside cautiously.

  The smell hit me first.

  Jesus.

  Christ.

  Skunk. Fucking dog had found a skunk. The harsh reality sank in as Marie moaned behind me.

  “That is the worst smell on earth,” she said. There was a rustling in the bushes, and then Ariel burst out into the open, racing toward us.

  “Down!” I shouted at him, because the dog was about two seconds from jumping me and then I’d reek, too. Ariel fell back cowering, whining up at us even as waves of stench radiated off of his body.

  The stink was strong. Seriously strong. My eyes started burning and I felt the tiny hairs inside my nose standing straight up. I opened my mouth, hoping that bypassing my nose might do some good. This only made things worse because now I could taste it.

  “I think I’m gonna puke,” Marie whispered behind me. “Shit, what should we do? Have you ever had to clean skunk off him before?”

  I shook my head, frustration mixing with the anger that still filled me. “No, I remember my mom cleaning off a dog when I was a kid, but I’ve been lucky out here. I’ve smelled skunks but never had one get too close to the house. Fuck, I got no idea what we should do. Hose him off?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let me look it up, see what I can find.”

  “We could just shoot him,” I grunted, glancing down at my gun. “Of course, we’d still have to deal with a skunked dog corpse.”

  “Please tell me you aren’t serious.”

  I glanced back to find her holding a hand over her mouth. There was a distinctly green tinge to her skin, and as I watched, she gagged.

  “Just go look it up,” I said, the words short. “I’ll stay out here, keep him calm.”

  She stepped back into the house, and I blinked, eyes still watering. It wasn’t just a smell. No. This was a tangible, evil presence wafting around my body like something out of a horror movie.

  After what felt like hours, Marie stuck her head out the door again.

  “I found a recipe.”

  “Tomato juice?” I asked. “Or is that just an urban legend?”

  “They say tomato juice does nothing. But we can blot him with paper towels, and then wash him with a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and detergent—there’s lots of sources saying that
it works.”

  “Do we have the stuff?” I said, frowning at the dog. How long would it take to wear off? Probably weeks . . . Fuck.

  “Yeah, we have everything except rubber gloves,” she said. “I could go to town and get them, but apparently there’s about a ten minute window. At that point, the smell will set in and then we’ll be screwed. We’re supposed to start by blotting off the oils.”

  I closed my eyes, a condemned man.

  “Give me the paper towels.”

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Take off your club colors first,” she said softly. “Otherwise you’ll get skunk on them.”

  Shit—that’d go over just great at the clubhouse. I turned toward her, tucking the gun back into my pants. Then I pulled off my leather vest with my Reapers MC patches on it. Folding it carefully, I started to hand it to her, then hesitated. Marie waited, frowning at me, and I thought about what she’d said earlier. Had she cheated on me?

  The dog had distracted me for a minute, but now the anger came flooding back.

  “What were you going to tell me?” I asked her bluntly.

  “Let’s take care of the dog first,” she replied, eyes dropping. “We’ve only got a few minutes, Horse. The stink is already working its way down into his fur. We need more time for this discussion, okay?”

  No, it wasn’t okay. Ariel whined, and the unholy smell grew stronger as he crept forward to lean heavily against my leg. Marie gagged again, eyes blinking rapidly from the fumes.

  Fumes or guilt?

  “Tell me the fucking truth. Did you—”

  Marie’s face twisted and then she turned away and started retching. I reached for her hair, planning to hold it back or something, but then I remembered I was pissed at her so I stood back. Ariel whined again, flopping to his back and showing his stomach.

  Frustration burned through me, and suddenly I couldn’t keep still.

  “Goddammit!” I shouted, kicking the side of the concrete steps. The dog cringed harder as a wave of intense pain radiated up my leg. Fucking hell, had I just broken my toe? Sure as shit felt like it. Marie heaved again, then managed to stand up, wiping off her mouth with the bottom of her shirt.