Reaper's Till Death

by Glenna Maynard

  “Excuse me? You best watch your mouth, brother, and remember your place right fucking quick before you land your ass in a hole you can’t dig your way out of.”

  “Is that how it is?”

  “It’s fuckin’ like that.” Before he can speak further his phone rings.

  “Speak to me…fuck. Damn. Yeah, man. She’s in the house with Sara. I got one of my best men guarding her day and night.”

  Hades ends the call.

  “Some shit is going down in Drag Creek. Can you handle her for one more day maybe two? Fucking stalker broke in at her apartment last night and stole all her panties. No one was staying there but they are gonna set him up. Once they have the piece of shit she’s back on a bus if that’s what she wants.”

  “Fine. Two more days.”

  “Lay low next few days. I’ll get Cupid to step in and hold down your business. He’s done it before.”

  “I was thinking about this stalker business. You think Tiny Leone has a hand in this. You know he was after her before when Marek ordered you to take her.”

  Hades rubs his chin. “Possibility crossed my mind. It’s why you need to keep her out of sight. I’m going to set up a meeting and feel him out. Been a few reports of girls disappearing that resemble Harley. Outlaw says at least seven unaccounted for within the past five months. I don’t know if it’s related to Tiny, but I will damn sure find out. Take her to the mountains. Rent a cabin or a suite.”

  “I could go for a little fishing.”

  “Good. See. I knew you’d come around.”

  “I’m not claiming her.”

  “Right,” he says. “I’ll send her back out.”

  “The club’s paying for this trip,” I call after him and watch as he shakes his head and flips me the bird as he goes.

  Ten minutes pass before Harley comes out the door wearing a scowl. She must have put up a fight and lost in the end. I stay quiet as she climbs in the cab of my truck.

  Her red eyes meet mine briefly, puffy and swollen.

  “Listen, Harley. I know I’ve come down hard on you. I don’t mean to be such a hardass, it’s just what I know. I’m not used to sharing my life with anyone outside of the club. I don’t let people in. We got two days. Whatta ya say we make the best of them. Start over. Think of it as two friends enjoying a road trip. We can forget our troubles and leave the rest of the world behind.”

  “Sounds like a terrible country song.” She sniffs and wipes at her nose with the hem of my shirt she’s wearing.

  I laugh. “Atta girl. I gotta swing by the office and apartment. We’ll grab what you need along the way.”

  “Okay. Sounds good, Quinn.” Her bottom lip quivers and her spark has dimmed.

  It bothers me more than it should.

  Chapter Eleven

  —Harley—

  “How many outfits do you need for two days. Jesus Christ, Harley,” Quinn complains as I grab two more shirts and toss them in the buggy.

  “It’s your fault for bringing me to Walmart when they are having a clearance sale.” I shrug and move to the next rack, selecting a few more items. “I only need to get some bras and underwear. Oh, and I need some hair ties, mouthwash, a new toothbrush, deodorant. Some makeup would be nice…”

  “You’re killing me.”

  “I know,” I singsong and hold up a sexy red bra.

  He shakes his head and then he surprises me when he hands me a blue one. “This would look good on you. Reminds me of your eyes.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “It’s a compliment.”

  I nod unsure of what to say to him. “Ooh. Sunglasses.” I dart toward the display, eager to ease the awkward moment.

  I’m busy combing the selection when Quinn taps me on the shoulder. “What do you think? Are they me?” He’s wearing a pair of banana yellow cat eye sunglasses and a farmer’s hat, that has an ugly green plastic visor on the brim.

  I bust out laughing as he smiles. “Very sexy.”

  His white teeth are exposed as he laughs.

  “Try these.” I hand him a pair of aviator looking ones. “Much better. That hat though...” I shake my head.

  We end up with a matching pair of camouflage boonie hats. Quinn says we need them for when we go fishing. I told him not to expect me to touch the bait.

  He goes over the watches and I move along to look at travel bags.

  There’s a tap on my shoulder again. I know it’s him. I can smell his cologne. “Quinn, I swear if you have another pair of stupid glasses,” I warn as I turn around.

  I don’t see him until I look down and notice he is on his knees holding up a costume jewelry ring. One of those big gaudy ones.

  “What are you doing?” I glance around hoping no one is watching us.

  “Daisy, I saved for three months to be able to do this today.” His voice is all dramatic and southern sounding.

  “Stoooppp.” I shove at his shoulder playfully and he grabs me, hooking his arms around my waist. His goatee rubs against my belly. “Sugar babe. Don’t deny me of your love. Tell me you’ll marry me.” He looks up at me with the goofiest look on his face. I think he is loving embarrassing me. Well I can dish it out too.

  “Rufus, I can’t marry you. I am already promised to your cousin, Clifton.”

  “Oh, honey, say yes,” a random woman says as she stops to watch the show.

  I look from her to Quinn as he plays his part so well.

  “Cliff’s been seeing that ho, Paula, from the post office. When he tells you he’s gone fishin’ he’s at her place at the trailer park.”

  “Well when you put it so sweetly.” I hold my hand out and wiggle my fingers.

  Quinn grins as the woman claps and congratulates us.

  “You’re a big dick,” I tell him as he leads me away.

  “You were great. The look on your face was priceless.” He laughs, and I shake my head.

  “What am I going to do with this thing?” I hold up my big fake ring.

  He shrugs. “Keep it. It can be part of our cover story if we run into anyone. We can say we are on our honeymoon.”

  “Camping? Who goes camping for their honeymoon?”

  “We do.”

  He grins so big like a kid sneaking off with a candy bar.

  “Whatever. If you say so.”

  By the time we leave the store with my clothes, his fishing and camping gear and supplies, we have two carts full.

  “Where are we going to put it all?” I stare at the bags then back at his truck.

  “We’ll make it fit.” He winks.

  Seeing him away from his work and the club he’s different.

  Relaxed.

  Nice.

  Playful.

  Dare I say flirty?

  By some miracle we manage to stuff all our items in the truck, but it puts me riding bitch in the middle next to Quinn.

  I fiddle with the radio as he pulls back onto the highway. Feel like Making Love by Bad Company starts to play. I crank up the volume and belt out the lyrics as the man next to me shakes his head.

  When the song ends I turn the volume down and ask, “Not a fan of my singing?”

  “You won’t be selling out at any arenas anytime soon.”

  “Dick.” I scoff and punch him in the junk.

  “Shit. Don’t be damaging the goods.” He reaches over and pinches me on the boob.

  “Ow. What was that for?” I massage the tender skin. “That better not bruise.”

  “I can inspect it later to be sure.” His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip and I have to look away.

  This side of him…I’m enjoying it.

  Too much.

  Instead of replying, I increase the volume for the radio and start singing along for the next three songs until we get stuck in traffic.

  Quinn pulls out his cell phone and checks the local news and there is a heavy traffic alert. A tractor trailer carrying what they are referring to as adult merchandise overturned.

 
“Do you think it was sex toys?” I bite my lip, afraid to look at him when he answers.

  “Could you imagine driving down the road and a big purple dildo flying into your windshield.” He shakes his head and pulls his cigarettes out of his cut. “Fuck,” he growls.

  “What?” I look at him perplexed.

  “Dropped my lighter in the floorboard.” He shuffles around and reaches down, feeling around with his hand.

  “Let me. It probably went under the seat.” Leaning forward my head is practically in his crotch. I have to scoot further over his lap. Stretching my fingers, I almost have it.

  I hear Quinn chuckle. Then his palm grasps the back of my head.

  “What are you doing?”

  His response is to push down on my head as I try to push against his hold. When the horn of a big truck next to us sounds it all clicks. The truck driver thinks I am giving him head and he’s fucking egging it on.

  I grab the lighter and push up. I’m a good sport so I wipe at my mouth, playing along. The horn sounds again and Quinn grins at me. I hold his lighter out and he sticks the cancer stick in his mouth.

  “Smoking is unattractive.”

  “Good thing I don’t give a fuck,” he snaps, snatching the lighter.

  I jerk the cigarette from his mouth.

  “Give it back,” he warns. “It’s my last one.” His tone is so serious it is almost comical.

  “What you gonna do?” I hold it up like I am going to break it in two.

  “Harley, so help me I will make you regret it.”

  “That so?” I rub it along my lips and then stick it between my boobs. “You want it? Come get it,” I tease. The butt end is sticking up from my cleavage and he bends his head down and grabs it with his mouth.

  “You’re a brat,” he states as the traffic begins to move.

  I shrug. “You like it,” I sass.

  “Maybe I do,” he whispers and concentrates on lighting up and driving.

  Chapter Twelve

  —Reaper—

  “You ever been camping before?”

  “Only in my backyard,” she confesses.

  “Better let me spray you down in this Off. Don’t want you getting chiggers and ticks.”

  “Bugs?” Her skin turns a pale shade of green that matches the nearby moss.

  “Bugs are least of your worries.” Her gorgeous indigo eyes widen when I go into detail about the critters. Raccoons, snakes, wolves, and black bears to name a few. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you, sweet ass.”

  “Sweet ass?”

  “Yeah, sweet ass.” I don’t offer an explanation. I don’t tell her that I can’t get the way her Daisy Dukes hug her ass and the shade of her eyes out of my head. That I don’t ever want to see her shed another tear. I don’t want to like Harley, but I do. She’s growing on me.

  The way her eyes light up when she’s teasing me.

  The crooked grin she wears when she is trying not to laugh.

  How she looks away when she blushes, not wanting me to see.

  Her short shorts and the way they hug her curves.

  Those Goddamn yellow heels she’s attached to and still determined to wear out here in the woods.

  She squirms as I spray more on her. “It stinks.”

  “Better to stink than itch to death. Last time I went camping like this one of my foster brothers got into poison ivy once. Dumbass didn’t wash his hands after scratching and it got on his balls and his pecker when he took a leak.” I laugh recalling the memory. That poor little bastard was afraid to tell anyone. He thought he had an STD.

  Harley makes me feel like sharing pieces of myself might not be so bad. She doesn’t push me to talk about being in foster care. She simply listens to what I choose to tell her.

  “Let me rub it.”

  “That’s what she said.” She snickers as I rub the spray in.

  “Do you ever stop with the snark?” I move to massage the deterrent in on the backs of her shoulders.

  “There’s two things that can shut my mouth.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  “You aren’t going to guess?” She spins around, wearing her lopsided grin, and I can’t help but think if I kissed her right now, that’d shut her up.

  I don’t think my answers would be appropriate. I cup the back of my neck. “We need to get the tent setup.”

  I move to take the tent from the bag and Harley is quiet and thoughtful as she opens a bottle of water. I’m more interested in watching her take a drink than I am in getting this tent out.

  She catches me staring as she gulps. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she pauses as though she is having an ah-ha moment. “You were thinking a dick in my mouth would hush me, weren’t you?”

  “Nope.”

  Cocking a brow, with a hand on her hip, she says, “You’re a bad liar, Quinn.”

  “How do you figure that?” I start fiddling with the tent, trying like hell to avoid those blue eyes that threaten to suck me under and drown me in her. My thoughts are being consumed with kissing her with every passing second we spend together. I should have went back to the clubhouse last night and got laid. That’s all this is—me being horny.

  Nothing more to it than nature wanting to take its due course.

  “When you are being less than truthful the left corner of your lip twitches, and you won’t meet my eyes.”

  “That’s not true.” I fight against the impulse to smile and like she said my damn mouth twitches and I look away from her.

  “If you say so.”

  The campsite is setup, and I have my fishing gear ready, so I can catch dinner. Harley is kicked back in one of the chairs we bought flipping through one of those stupid ragtag tabloids.

  “Going to catch dinner. You cool here or you coming with?” I’m not worried about her taking off. I’ve got the keys to the truck in my pocket and we are in a secluded part of the park. Not only that, she seems to be enjoying herself.

  There’s just something calming about the wild. Hearing the bugs, the steady stream of water flowing through the creek. Makes a man feel at peace.

  I can’t help but think Harley is feeling it too.

  “I think I’m going to take a nap.” She yawns and stretches her arms over her head. “Wake me up when dinner’s ready.”

  “Sure thing,” I tell her knowing damn good and well I’ll be waking her ass up to help me clean the fish.

  ———

  Reeling my line in, I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt more relaxed. The past year has been filled with nothing but drama. Out here I don’t have a care in the world. Not that I don’t love being part of the club but fuck there is always some shit going down.

  I’ve not been fishing since I was a teen. I used to take my foster brothers down to the creek behind the house we were staying at. We never caught a damn thing, but it was better than being in that house.

  I don’t like to think about those days often. Too much bad shit. I went back after I aged out of the system. I had gotten a letter from Jesus. The kid who used to wet the bed. He was fifteen at the time he wrote to me. Told me all the sick shit our foster dad was doing to him.

  I was too late, and Jesus had committed suicide. He couldn’t live with the pain.

  My foster care father was the first person I had ever killed. Killing him earned me my road name, Reaper. I slit his throat from ear to ear. Bastard got what was coming to him.

  Exhaling, I take a good look at my surroundings. The deep green canopy provided by the trees and the mountains.

  There isn’t another soul for miles except Harley. I’ve been gone a few hours and need to be heading back soon. I can’t wait to see her face when I teach her to clean the fish. I bet she will be all squeamish and grossed out. I find most women would be.

  I grab my stringer, putting it over my shoulder and start back.

  Surprisingly, I pass an ugly fuck of a man carrying a backpack. Nothing about him is outwardly suspicious but gi
ven Harley’s situation with her stalker, I’m not leaving anything to chance. I give him a chin nod and he offers me one back.

  “Nice catch, man.” He eyes my fish. I start to offer him one, but I figure he can catch his own, and I don’t want him thinking it is an invitation to hang around our campsite.

  “Thanks.” I keep walking not wanting to engage him further or give anything away that will tell him Harley is near.

  When I get further down the trail, I turn back and don’t see him. He must have continued on around the bend but that doesn’t mean he won’t be back.

  Picking up my pace, I hurry back to my woman.

  My woman? Now I am losing it.

  Must be my hunger. Yeah. That’s it. I need to eat.

  Once I get food on my stomach, I’ll be back to myself and not thinking stupid thoughts.

  My woman.

  As I am shaking my head, I pull the stringer off my shoulder to show Harley how much fish I caught.

  Looking around I don’t see her at first.

  “Harley,” I growl.

  No fucking answer.

  The tent flap is down. Maybe she is still asleep.

  Lifting it up I see her in the corner with her knees to her chest.

  At first, I am afraid something happened to her. My mind flashes to do the dude with the backpack. If he hurt her…I’ll gut him like my fish.

  Chapter Thirteen

  —Harley—

  I’m not sure how long I have been sleeping when I feel something brush against my foot.

  Rubbing my eyes, I look around for Quinn. I don’t see him. I look down by my feet. Holy shit! There’s a damn skunk inside the tent with me.

  “Shoo. Go away,” I whisper, afraid any sudden movement or sound will get me sprayed. Why do bad things keep happening to me?

  Slowly, I pull my legs toward me and scoot into a corner praying like hell Quinn returns soon.

  Ten minutes or thirty I don’t know how much time has passed by with this furry little bastard holding me hostage.

  “Hey, little fella. Are you a good skunk or a bad skunk?” God, I feel dumb. I don’t know what else to do.

  “Harley,” Quinn’s familiar voice growls.