Down to my Bones (Reapers MC: Ellsberg Chapter Book 1)

by Bijou Hunter

  Rolling my eyes, I try not to laugh at her sincerity, but she keeps poking me until I finally chuckle.

  “I do like indoor plumbing.”

  “I’ve never shit outside,” she admits. “I’ve peed plenty.”

  “And this yurt has a toilet, right?”

  MJ giggles. “Maybe. Not sure how much that costs. We might need to use the toilet in the RV.”

  I still can’t picture the place she imagines. Changing topics, I ask, “Growing up, did you play with your sisters and brother outside a lot?”

  “Some, but I enjoyed grownups and the dogs more. Back before my pop-pop died, he would take Colton and me fishing on a small pond nearby. He swore there were fish in it, but I don’t remember them ever catching anything. My brother would do all the fishing stuff in the small boat while I only wanted to watch the geese that swim in the pond. I’ve always liked animals, but I never wanted to go to school to take care of them. Being a vet sounds boring, and I don’t want to be a farmer. For a while, I considered having a petting zoo where little kids could visit the animals. Then I realized I didn’t want people around my shit, so I decided to clean up road kill instead.”

  “Is the pond close enough to walk to?”

  “Yes. When Pop-Pop died, I ran away from home and took the boat into the middle of the pond. I had food and a thermos full of water with me, so I thought I could stay out there for a long time. Pop tried to get me to come back to the shore. He sat out there for hours talking to me about how his dad used to take him places. I didn’t want to ever go back to shore, but Pop sounded so sad, and I knew he needed a hug. I only came back so he wouldn’t cry. Don’t let him tell you any different.”

  “Can we walk to the pond right now?”

  MJ’s dark eyes widen, and she gives me a shocked frown. “The guy could be out there waiting to shoot me.”

  “It’s too hot for that,” I say, waving off the idea.

  “It was hot the day he shot me.”

  “But he didn’t sit outside for hours in the woods waiting.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “You don’t either,” I mumble while her other hand rests on my stomach.

  “I know everything sometimes.”

  Grinning at her devious grin, I whisper, “Soon, the asshole will be dead, and you’ll be able to wander aimlessly through the woods.”

  “Will you walk me then? We can try fucking against trees.”

  “Have you ever fucked against a tree?”

  “You know I haven’t,” she says, poking my gut.

  “Me neither, and you know why?”

  “You lack imagination?”

  “Trunk burn.”

  MJ giggles at the thought. “But that would just be me. You’d be fine.”

  “Still risky. What if my dick gets splinters?”

  Laughing louder, she rolls to her side and kisses me. “I’ll never make you fuck anywhere near splinters. Our bed in the yurt will be wonderfully soft. Everything you want is what I’ll get you.”

  “I don’t need pampering.”

  “You say that because you don’t know how good it feels to be pampered.”

  “I’ve been to the spa enough to know how it feels.”

  Giggling again, MJ watches her fingers tease my scarred flesh. “I want to see you with cucumbers over your eyes.”

  “I want you to feel safe again.”

  MJ doesn’t respond while her fingers slide to my chest and swirl around my right nipple. I rest on my back, enjoying the cool air and her hot touch. Compared to my tent, this little trailer provides more pampering than I really deserve.

  “I want to move to Shasta,” MJ announces.

  “No, you really don’t.”

  “I can’t stay here. Ellsberg isn’t safe anymore.”

  “It was never safe.”

  “How is that helpful?”

  “What makes you think Shasta would be any safer? The town has a road called Corpse Crossing where a serial killer dropped off his victims’ bodies.”

  “What the hell?” she asks, and I realize how little in the know MJ is about the Reapers. “Why do we have a club there?”

  “This might be hard to believe but a town with a rendering plant and an active serial killer tends to be filled to the brim with addicts. The club supplies them with their brain candy.”

  “I never heard anything about a serial killer.”

  “The victims have been hookers and a few hitchhikers. Easy prey basically. It’s quieted down since Go-Go started running things. He has club guys hanging around the regular hookup spots, making it harder for the killer to grab easy prey. No bodies found in over a year.”

  “Then why shouldn’t we move there?” she asks, again reaching for a fantasy she must know doesn’t exist.

  “Ellsberg is where you belong.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Rolling to my side, I cup her face. “MJ, I understand you’re scared and feeling weak. That’s normal when you were only shot a few days ago. In fact, I was more worried when you were so calm about the entire thing. Now you’re acting like a normal person, but... And there is a giant but coming.”

  “Giant butts,” she snickers.

  “When the shock wears off, you’ll feel like you again. That MJ won’t give up her home and family because a piece of shit wants her dead. She’ll refuse to leave, so that’s why I don’t want to talk about a possibility you will blow off in a week.”

  “Do you really think I’ll be normal in a week?”

  “Might be longer.”

  “Could it be sooner?” she asks, looking exhausted suddenly.

  “No, I know for a fucking fact it won’t be sooner.”

  MJ smirks at my teasing. “Your psychic powers are very sexy, Quaid. I want to repay your wisdom by riding your dick.”

  “Think you can stay on top?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You nearly fell down trying to get a drink.”

  After letting out a snort, she bursts into laughter. “I’m so dumb on drugs. I’d be the worst addict. People would know I had a problem an hour into my addiction.”

  “So no more Shasta talk,” I insist and gently pinch Pineapple’s always hard nipple.

  “Fine, but I need to build my yurt immediately because you and I cannot fit comfortably in here.”

  “I don’t need more space,” I insist while enjoying her full breast resting against my palm.

  “I do. This trailer felt huge when you weren’t in it. I could stretch out on the couch, but now you’re hogging everything with your muscles and manly hips.”

  “Then let’s get you a yurt,” I say, leaning over to nuzzle her tits through her thin summer nightshirt.

  “Let’s get us a yurt.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Hell yeah, you did,” she murmurs and tries to straddle me before tipping too far to the right and nearly falling on her injured arm.

  My hands grip her waist, steadying her before she can hurt herself. I rest her on the bed and take a look at curves hidden under her very thin nightshirt. MJ moans under my wandering hands, and her legs spring open obediently. I’m a patient man, and I’ve waited a lifetime to find somewhere I truly belong. This moment, right now, I finally know I’m home.

  THE ODDBALL

  Quaid’s beard tickles my stomach, feeling as amazing as I hoped when I fantasized about this moment at the hospital. Running my fingers through his thick, wavy hair, I ignore the pain and only focus on the sweet heat radiating from between my legs.

  I hold my breath as he slides my top over my chest and licks at Pineapple’s needy nipple. Gasping when he gives the hard flesh a nip of his teeth, I squirm wildly and tug at his hair.

  “Fuck,” he growls under his breath and pulls away.

  Ignoring his abandonment, I reach into my night shorts and find my hot spot.

  “Your father’s outside,” Quaid says, slapping himself in the face for some reason.

  �
��Don’t hate yourself,” I moan still stroking my clit in a misguided hope to find relief before Pop knocks on the door.

  “I’m trying to slap the horny off my face.”

  Quaid stands up and searches for clothes. Enjoying the sight of his hard cock before he hides it inside sweatpants, I get just a bit closer to touchdown.

  “MJ, I know you’re in there!” Pop yells and bangs on the door.

  I turn my annoyed gaze to Quaid and find him scratching at his beard. Does tormenting his face fix the painful erection barely concealed in his pants?

  Yanking my hand free and sitting up, I stroke his face and brush my lips across his. “This face deserves only love,” I say and stare into his eyes. “Don’t make me put mittens on you.”

  Quaid smirks at my threat while I answer the door. “Way to cock-block me, Pop,” I growl once the door is open. “Would you pull such a rude move with Colton?”

  “I’m not here to talk about your brother.”

  “Typical. That’s why Mom sent me a message last night apologizing for your misogyny.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “She could have.”

  “Let me see the message,” he demands, holding out his giant pop hand.

  “It’s private. Mom talks about stuff she wouldn’t want you to know.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Pop, your language,” I hiss and look around. “What if someone hears?”

  Fighting a grin, he glares at me. “Zip it.”

  I stare at him unblinking until he stops frowning at me and leans into the trailer to glare at Quaid.

  “Where did you sleep last night?” he asks.

  Quaid shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs like a little boy. “In here, sir. The heat was something fierce, and this pretty lady was kind enough to offer me shelter.”

  “Asshole,” Pop growls and tries to step into the trailer.

  “No,” I tell him, blocking him.

  “Then come outside so we can talk.”

  “No.”

  Pop wants to release the rage I see in his eyes, but he can’t yell at me in the way he would someone else. Sighing, he scratches at the back of his neck.

  “How’s your arm?” he asks, rather than giving me the riot act.

  “It hurts. I think maybe that bullet messed some stuff up inside.”

  “MJ, you’re making me crazy with your shit.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you want a hug?”

  “No,” Pop grumbles and then sighs. “Yes.”

  Smiling, I lean out of the RV enough to wrap my good arm around Pop’s strong shoulders. “You’re a good pop, and I love you.”

  “I love you too, MJ.”

  I pull away and continue smiling. “You can’t take my boyfriend from me. I need him. Not just for the fucking. I also require protection from the shooter.”

  “Quaid needs to come with me to the bar for a meeting.”

  “No.”

  “We’re trying to figure out who shot you.”

  “I don’t care. Quaid needs to stay with me.”

  “He’ll be back.”

  “Who will protect me while he’s gone?” I ask in a voice way more panicked-squeaky than I intend.

  “Go into the house with your mom.”

  I gasp loud enough to cause Pop to flinch. “What if the shooter comes after me and hurts Mom? I should give her space for safety reasons.”

  “No,” Pop says, trying to use my technique against me.

  “I love her, Pop.”

  Rolling his eyes, he knows he can’t win. I’m his kid, and someone shot me in the arm, and I could cry at any moment. Plus I have my brain-damage thing that acts as a “get out of jail” card. No, my poor pop is just plum out of luck.

  “Fine,” Pop says and leans into the RV to look at Quaid. “Your only job is keeping her safe.”

  “Understood.”

  “No playing house. You just keep watch.”

  “Understood.”

  Pop mutters something under his breath. I pretend he says he’s happy I found someone and can’t wait for the grandbabies. I wave wildly at him as he climbs on his Harley. Colton appears soon afterward, and I keep waving until he’s forced to mimic my gesture. I’ll never get too old to stop messing with my little brother, and I doubt he’ll ever get old enough to stop hating every minute of it.

  “Let’s go back to playing with my tits,” I announce once the door is shut. I try to remove my shirt, but lifting my arms proves too painful. Yanking my shirt over my boobs will have to do. “Now take your pants back off.”

  “I don’t know,” he says, giving me the same “aww shucks” look he pulled with Pop. “Your father killed the mood.”

  I reach over and cup his balls. “Are you broken down there?”

  Batting away my hand, he laughs and removes his shirt in slow motion. “I don’t know if I should tease my dick when it might be disappointed again.”

  “What about my disappointment?” I say, wiggling out of my night shorts. “I was so close before Pop—"

  My words die on my tongue. I’m weak with lust even before Quaid’s rough fingers caress my spread pussy. Once he touches me, I am his slave. Nothing exists outside the RV by the time his poor often denied cock finds relief inside me. We’re alone on an island ruled by flesh and pleasure. I doubt I’ve ever been happier.

  Thirty minutes later, something I can’t understand strips away my joy, leaving me terrorized and detached from my current surroundings.

  THE OUTSIDER

  MJ sits in the RV, staring at the door. Her fear remains palpable. I try to distract her, but she only sees the door. I don’t know what set her off, but it likely has something to do with the visitors outside.

  The angry roar of the arriving Harleys didn’t bother MJ, but the voices of the riders set her on edge.

  “Who are they?” I ask, peering through the closed shades.

  MJ climbs over me to look outside at the people speaking with her mother on the porch.

  “Some second-tier old ladies and their kids.”

  “Second tier?”

  Cowering in the corner groove of the RV, MJ holds a pillow in front of her for protection. “Mom, Tawny, Aunt Maddie, Shelby, and Raven are top tier in Ellsberg. Their men are the leadership. Pop views Tucker, Vaughn, Dylan, and Judd as his most trusted soldiers. They were with him when he took over. If he ever goes down, they’d willingly go down with him. Then there are the second-tier guys who’ve been around since Pop came aboard. They’re loyal men, but not as close to him as the top tier is. The women out there are the wives of Jim-Bean, Dead Mike, and Jonesy. Three of the second-tier guys.”

  I study the women speaking to Farah. They’ve brought her food, and she doesn’t look spooked by them. I don’t know why she would be, but MJ sure is.

  “Old ladies. Are you my old lady?” I ask.

  “Well, I’m yours,” MJ whispers. “I’m not particularly young, and I’m obviously a lady. So, yep.”

  “What do you think of those old ladies?”

  “I don’t think anything.”

  “Then why are you agitated?”

  “I don’t want them to fucking talk to me!” she cries, startling me by going from fifty to a hundred with her panic. “They shouldn’t be here when I’m fragile. Fuck them the fuck off!” she rages with the final word turning into a fury-induced squeal.

  “Breathe in,” I whisper and inhale deeply. “Let it out.”

  Before she can hyperventilate, MJ mimics me. After a minute of us breathing together, she regains control. Her eyes close, and she shakes her head.

  “I don’t want them here,” she says finally. “They’re not safe.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. They aren’t my people. They’re club people.”

  While MJ hides her face in the pillow, I look through the shades again. I spot a few familiar faces from the club get-togethers. Two younger men and a woman also stand away from the old ladies. One of the g
uys along with the girl looks bored. They both check their phones, apparently wanting to leave. The other male scans the area while shifting from foot to foot. Rather than bored, this one seems nervous. Does he think he might get shot if he remains too close to the target hiding in her RV?

  MJ hums to a song I don’t recognize. She reaches absent-mindedly to touch her bandaged arm. Tears roll down her cheeks, and she lets out a pained sigh.

  “They’ll leave soon,” I say, standing next to the bed and checking my favorite gun.

  MJ wipes her eyes and focuses on my weapon. Blinking rapidly, she sits up and steadies herself. Fear of the shooter now replaced by her trust in me, she finds her smile.

  “Can I name our babies?” she asks, completely changing the subject. “Audrey and Cap can’t decide what to name their son. She only had girl names ready, so God gave her a boy to mess with her. I offered them a few ideas, but apparently, Astro isn’t good enough for a man named after a fucking ghost.”

  Chuckling at her insult, I shrug. “Astro works better for a dog than a human being, but I really don’t give a crap. I do think your father will absolutely love the name Astro for his grandson.”

  “Considering what Audrey will name her son, I imagine Astro won’t sound nearly as trashy in comparison.”

  Cupping her jaw, I smile. “You don’t really want to name our kid Astro, do you?”

  “No, but only because of the ‘ass’ sound in it. Otherwise, it’s brilliant. It can be his biker name too. What’s your club name?”

  “That guy lurking in the back.”

  “Profound,” she says, tugging me down so I’ll sit next to her on the bed. “Was Go-Go the one who gave it to you?”

  “He said I could pick my own and gave me a list of names already used in the Reapers. I never got around to choosing one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I already have a name.”

  “I like your name,” she says, resting one of her legs across my lap while the other curls around my back.

  “It’s no Astro, but I can’t complain.”

  “Can I name you?” she asks, releasing me from her legs’ trap.

  “You can name anyone and anything you want.”