Mouser (Reapers MC Book 9)

by Elizabeth Knox

  Furrowing my brows, I ask, “What do you mean by that?”

  “I have the worst luck when it comes to women. Dunno why, but they chew me up and spit me out. I’m gettin’ to the point where there’s nothin’ more that I want than to settle down with a solid woman. Make her my ol’ lady and have a couple of rugrats runnin’ around. I see Kade, now Damon and . . . shit girl, I ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

  “And you think this app is going to help you find the woman your destined to be with?” I ask, cocking a brow.

  He chuckles, “Probably not, but at least I can get my dick wet.”

  “That’s your problem right there. You’re thinking with your dick and not the head that should be leading your decisions. How serious are you about wanting to settle down?”

  “Very,” He replies.

  “Alright, then no more app for you.” I take his phone from his hand and delete every single dating app off it.

  “Whoa. What the hell, Sakura?”

  “Don’t get sassy with me. You want to settle down, so we’re going to make it happen. I’m going to make it my personal mission to help you find a good woman. All you need to do is keep your dick dry, like the desert we’re in and be patient.”

  “No pussy?” Dixon whines.

  “No, and if you feel the need pull up PornHub and whack your mole.”

  “Jesus Christ. I’ve been around plenty of people, but never have I heard a chick tell me to whack my mole.” Dixon tosses his head back and busts out into laughter, his entire face turning red in the process.

  For the next hour I’m chatting with Dixon and Hawk who ends up coming into the club a little bit after I grill Dixon on the choices he’s made with searching for women. For some reason I get the feeling Hawk is trying to set his buddy up too. There’s a glimmer in his eye that usually signifies someone has a plan up their sleeve, so whenever I can get Hawk alone, I’m going to chat with him about it and see what our two heads being put together can do. Who knows. Maybe it’ll lead to a successful date!

  Izzy comes into the club a little after eight and with her hair being freshly dyed everyone shifts their attention on her bright violet hair. Throughout it has peekaboo areas of a fuchsia color that just makes you want to stare. “Hey Izzy,” I greet her, able to tell the second she comes through the door she’s freaking out even worse than we ever imagined.

  Her eyes go from one wall to the next looking for the person she’s concerned about. “I didn’t see Cobra’s bike out front. What’s going on, Sakura? Something has to be wrong. I can feel it in my bones. Something isn’t right.” She doesn’t even say hi, but I knew she’d cut right to the chase.

  “Why don’t the three of us head into my office?” Damon suggests from behind me. Izzy gives me a look, almost as if she thinks I’m going to give her some sort of warning, but I nod my head, assuring my friend it’ll be okay.

  She still seems to be nervous so I go up to her, take her hand in mine and walk beside her while we head to Damon’s office. Even as we get through the door and he shuts it behind us I sit next to her, offering support in whatever way I can.

  Damon is the Prez, so he takes the lead as he sits behind his desk, places one hand in the other and looks at Izzy with caring eyes. “The first thing I’m going to tell you is that Cobra is okay. He’s alive. He’s doing okay.”

  “Oh God, so he was hurt . . .” Izzy’s voice falters, confirming what she must’ve known.

  “Yes, he was. He was shot in the neck by a clubwhore at his birth father’s club. But we were lucky enough to have another nurse practitioner in the area like Sakura who acted swiftly and efficiently, saving his life. From what I’ve heard, the bullet entered his body at the perfect area. Meaning there won’t be too much damage. It didn’t harm any major blood vessels or veins. He’s just in a bit of pain right now and they’re managing it the best they can.”

  “Is he awake?” Izzy asks, clenching my hand with a vice grip.

  “He’s fading in and out of it. Cheyenne, the NP, believes it’s because of the amount of pain he’s in. She has said he’s coming out of his haze a bit more, though.”

  “Will I be able to talk to him s-soon?” Izzy asks, stumbling over her words. I can’t imagine the horrible way she’s been feeling the past couple of days, not hearing from the one person she loves more than anyone else on this planet. “I mean, I-I . . . fuck, I’ve been so s-scared.” Izzy declares with tears flooding over her cheeks. They rush down like a dam that’s just been broken. Placing my hand over her cheek I try to wipe away the tears and offer her some semblance of comfort.

  “He’s okay, Izzy. Cobra is okay.” I remind her.

  “I’m hoping he’ll be awake sometime tonight so you can talk to him. I can’t imagine the way you’ve been feeling and I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything to you before. I was wrong in keeping this from you and please accept my sincerest apologies for doing so.” Damon says, looking at Izzy in the sincerest way.

  I’m starting to realize that things can get pretty heated in the club lifestyle, but at the end of the day everyone is always going to be here for the other person. It’s different than what I’m used to, but these people view each other as family, even though the same blood doesn’t flow through their veins.

  Just like my uncle and I, blood doesn’t matter.

  Families can be made through friendship.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The person you love should be where you can calm your soul. They should be your safest place to be yourself. Life is hard enough. That person should be your solace.

  ~ Unknown

  Mouser

  This chick Cheyenne doesn’t have much in her shoebox of an apartment. I always thought small apartments were secluded to cities like New York and Los Angeles, but man, was I wrong. She has two bedrooms in this joint, but her second bedroom is practically the size of a walk-in closet. The twin bed that was tossed on the floor barely fits in here and I’m sittin’ down in a bean bag chair with my ass hittin’ the wood floor below me. I know I’m not that heavy, so these beans must’ve gotten out at some point. Fuck, maybe there’s a rat in here takin’ the little Styrofoam balls to its nest.

  Turning to check on Cobra I see he’s peacefully sleeping. A few hours back he was finally with it enough to call and talk to Izzy. I overheard him arguin’ with her about the fact she wanted to come up and visit him. He told her no and was stern with his decision.

  If I were in his shoes, I’d be sayin’ the same thing. The chances are slim that the Lucifer’s Heretics will be back here before we’re on the road back home, but you can never be too careful. When it comes to our women, we’re fearless fuckers who will cut down any man in our way.

  A few of them did run off the night we put an end to Titan’s wrath. So, I imagine we’re going to have to deal with some havoc sooner or later. That’s only if they have a death wish, though.

  Cheyenne had left a couple hours ago and told me to keep an eye on Cobra while she was gone. She works at a small clinic in town and damn, she bitches about this place every chance she gets. It’s obvious she isn’t happy there, so I don’t know why she continues to work at a place she doesn’t like. I couldn’t imagine that, having to spend so many hours every day in a place that only caused stress.

  The front door to her apartment clicks and I see her frame coming through the door, walking toward the shoebox of a room to check on Cobra. She sets her bag down on the floor outside the doorway and kneels down, scanning over him. Cheyenne places her fingers on his wrist and I see her turn her watch toward her. I guess she must be checking his pulse or whatnot.

  “Work any better today?”

  “What do you care?” Cheyenne grumbles.

  Shit, why do I even try? “Not everyone is an asshole you know. Some people actually give a damn.”

  She takes her hand from Cobra’s wrist and looks at me sternly. “We’re not friends. You’re only here because your club needed my help and Boomer is fond of you guys. I
only helped because I couldn’t ever live with a man’s death on my conscious, knowing I could’ve done something to prevent it.”

  I smile, “See, you actually give a damn too.”

  Cheyenne rolls her eyes, but as she does I’m only left wondering why she’s so rough around the edges. Usually there are things in life that make people so cold, but I don’t know about her. Then again, I literally don’t know anything about her, besides the fact Boomer is her brother.

  “You don’t have to be so guarded.” I tell her, doubting it’ll make a difference.

  “That’s a load of shit. It’s better to be guarded versus an open book. The only thing that does is gets you hurt.”

  Obviously, she has some rough parts of the past she probably won’t share, but I’m not a pusher. She can either open up or keep it all locked away, safely buried under whatever façade she’s insisting on keeping up.

  “Not everyone you come into contact with is your enemy. I’m sure you know that.”

  “I didn’t say you were my enemy, but I’m not gonna sit over here and then blab about my life story when you don’t give a shit in the first place. There’s no point in even doing that, especially when I don’t even know where I’ll be going after this week.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I know she talked about having the lease on her apartment through the next week, and it’s mid-June now.

  She shrugs her shoulders and decides to sit down on the floor with her back against the wall. “I moved out here because I wanted a change. I wanted to get out of my brother’s shadow and away from his club and . . . this isn’t what I expected at all. I don’t know what I thought this was gonna be like if I’m honest but . . . I don’t like it here. I’m fuckin’ miserable. My boss is an asshole and I’m just over this shit. I’m so fucking over it.”

  An idea pops into my head. It’s either a bad one, or a great one. “Why don’t you come with us? You said you wanted a change of scenery and you’re miserable here, so why not come to Las Vegas with us? You can see if Nevada treats you better than Kansas has, and even if it doesn’t, there are always strip clubs and bars.”

  Cheyenne lifts her eyes to meet mine, “At least tell me the women are hot there.”

  “Oh, are you uh . . .”

  “A lesbian? Yeah, and I enjoy beautiful women just like you guys do. Honestly, I could probably teach you a thing or two on how to properly pleasure a woman. I’ve been known to give a few pointers.”

  Somehow, I get the feeling she’s thinkin’ I’m jokin’ about her comin’ down to Vegas. “You know I’m serious, right? I wouldn’t suggest somethin’ like that if I wasn’t. We have a nurse practitioner down there too, and I have a feelin’ you might get along.”

  “Why, she a lesbian?” Cheyenne laughs, loosening up just a tad.

  Shaking my head, “No. She’s . . . she’s my girl. Only, she doesn’t really know it yet.”

  Cheyenne chuckles, “Never took you for the overbearing alpha type. Guess I was wrong about you.”

  “Wrong about me?”

  “Yeah, I thought you weren’t an asshole. Obviously, you are.” The way Cheyenne smirks at the end tells me she’s fuckin’ with me now, but it seems like I’m bringin’ her to Vegas when Cobra and I leave. With any luck she’ll enjoy it, and even if she doesn’t, maybe we can get her up to Billings so they aren’t just relying on Blackjack’s years dated army medic training. We need someone who can handle heavier shit, especially since our list of enemies does seem to be getting bigger.

  Chapter Twenty

  She’s been going through more hell than you’ll ever know. But that’s what gives her beauty an edge . . . You can’t touch a woman who can wear pain like the grandest of diamonds around her neck.

  ~ Alfa

  Sakura

  It’s been odd to not have Mouser here for a week. It’s felt . . . weirder than odd actually. I had finally accepted Damon telling me Mouser was going to be this constant thing around me, hovering like a security guard and then they went on that run out to Kansas and Mouser stayed back with Cobra while he’s been healing. Yesterday they finally got on the road so they’ll be here this evening if we’re lucky.

  Mouser told me Cheyenne, the woman who’d been helping them is coming this way too and I . . . I don’t know how to feel about it. Part of me wonders if Mouser’s developed some sort of infatuation with her and that’s why she’s coming back with him. I was being so standoffish at first with him because of my past, my commitment issues. I could make a list and it would be a mile long, at least.

  Now I’m wishing I gave in a bit sooner and he knew I was starting to develop feelings for him before he left. The possibilities of what’s happened in the last week have been running through my mind and now I can’t stop thinking about it, no matter how much I try. I’m so fearful that something’s been developing between the two of them.

  Damon’s had Dixon with me since Mouser’s been gone, and in the time he’s been spending with me we’ve developed a really interesting friendship. He’s quirky, ballsy and hilarious. Whenever he does find a woman she’s going to be very lucky. The man is like a giant teddy bear once you get past all the bulkiness and the grimace he wears so well.

  I was able to sneak away and talk to Hawk yesterday in the clubhouse while Dixon was chatting with Amara and Widow. I discovered Hawk knows a woman he wants to set up with Dixon, but she’s not his typical type. He usually dates Latina women, sometimes Asian but he hardly ever dates Caucasian, African-American, or any other race. Hawk believes Indra is bi-racial, but he’s not sure, she could be fully African-American. He showed me a photo of her because they’re friends on Facebook and she’s absolutely stunning.

  To me, something like race doesn’t matter. It’s about the personality of the individual and their heart. Hawk told me so many nice things about Indra, and he has an appointment with her at the end of the month to search for an engagement ring for Raven. He made me promise not to tell a soul, but he asked that Izzy and I go along with him. I’m not too close with Raven, but my job isn’t to search for the right ring. It’s to do recon on this Indra woman and see if she’d be a perfect match for our boy Dixon.

  Since Dixon has suddenly become my best friend over the last few days, I decided he would be the one to help me on this next adventure. He’s the perfect person for the job, especially since he’s single and he’s a womanizer. Somehow Chaz shoved his way for a seat at the table, but we’re interviewing women to work in the brothel. So, him showing up could result in helping.

  I had a discussion with Damon yesterday about how we could twist this from your average run of the mill prostitution ring to offering the best of the best services to a prime clientele. In Nevada it’s legal to own a brothel, however we need to mandate with state guidelines and protocols, including paying hefty fines. After Damon and I looked over the guidelines, we’ve decided we’re going to go about this the right way.

  The club mixes in a lot of other businesses from what I can tell, but this is going to be clear of any wrongdoing. In other words, it’s going to be one-hundred-percent legitimate. The house that Esme, Cirque and Mirage are in now is going to be their private home. The girls will automatically have a place to stay which is safe on the property of the club. However, I suggested we build or buy a piece of land that’s secluded yet close to the interstate to give a sense of privacy.

  Damon agreed and even spoke to Zane who also thinks it’s a great idea. We’d be able to maximize on what the Vegas area is already known for. Now, we’re down at the strip, with three women in the hotel room we rented. Every thirty minutes we’re going to have three to five new girls come in.

  “Hi, I’m Yami. I’m twenty-three and I’m from Calabasas, California. I moved here when I was twenty-one and I don’t have any experience in a brothel, but I’m a fun little woman who can bring any man’s fantasy to life.” Yami is a Japanese woman, she’s short with slight curves, black hair and dark chocolate eyes. She looks like the t
ypical anime style woman American men love. I’m thinking she could definitely pull off some sexy schoolgirl sets.

  When we have our location, I envision having themed rooms in the basement, with a pretty large dungeon for the kinky people who love BDSM. The second floor will have private rooms, and the first floor will be for open play and orgies.

  “Thank you. Take a step back and allow the woman standing beside you to introduce herself,” I instruct.

  The next woman takes a step forward. “I’m Fawn. I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman from Ireland and I have worked in a brothel before back home. Although, it’s under the radar since prostitution isn’t legal in my country. I specialize in threesomes, female-female scenes and I’m a submissive by nature so your clientele with dark tendencies will adore being with me.” Fawn has that natural red hair that women try to get when they go to the salon, but never can. Her figure is good, even if she is a little on the thin side, but her breasts make up for it. If I was into women, I might even fuck her. She’s automatically getting in.

  “Please do the same as Yami did,” I state, and she takes a step back while the next woman steps forward.

  “I’m Natasha. I’m twenty-four and I’ll do almost everything, except anal. I won’t do that at all, not even for the right price.” Already I can say Yami and Fawn are going to be in and the fact Natasha wants to demand things says she won’t ever make it in this industry. Men want anal, and sometimes women do too.

  “Natasha, thank you for coming today but I don’t think our brothel is going to be a good fit for you. Yami and Fawn, I’d like you both to stay.”

  Natasha huffs on her way out before shooting the two who were chosen over her a glare but I know I’ve made the right choice. These two know what is required of this job and they’ll do it. Especially Fawn. I have a feeling she’s going to be our top requested girl, given the fact she’s open to many things.