Reaper's Property
Page 17

I rolled my eyes at him.
“I made breakfast,” he said, jerking his chin toward the kitchen. “It’s not much. I want you to take over the cooking and shit, but I was hungry and you weren’t moving.”
I blushed, thinking about why I’d been tired, and he gave a low, satisfied chuckle.
“That’s Ariel, by the way,” he added, jerking his chin toward the dog. “But I call him Ari.”
I stared at him.
“You have a boy dog named Ariel?” I asked, not quite sure I’d heard him right.
“My niece named him,” Horse replied, shrugging. “Would break her heart to change it and I figure the dog doesn’t give a shit. I can live with Ari.”
I nodded, biting the side of my cheek. Once again, the badass biker was a mystery. He issued threats, carried a gun that I was pretty sure he knew how to use, and he let his little niece name his dog after a mermaid.
Split personality, no question.
Breakfast wasn’t fancy but it was surprisingly good. He’d made French toast with some ham on the side and wedges of ripe, juicy cantaloupe. The meal followed the same pattern as the night before, except this time he told me to put together a shopping list after we finished. Then he disappeared, taking the dog with him.
I spent about an hour working my way through the kitchen, making notes of what he had and what he needed, surprised to find that while he didn’t have a ton of fancy gadgets, what he did have was solid and high quality. Same with the pots and utensils. By the time he came back I had a list long enough to fill both sides of the paper. He looked at it, raising an eyebrow, but didn’t complain.
“Rig’s out front,” he said, starting toward the door. I followed him hastily, wishing I had my purse but not entirely sure he’d wait for me if I went to find it. Ari danced between us and tried to jump up into the dark-green Tahoe parked next to the house.
“No f**king way,” Horse said to Ari, and the dog barked at him, clearly pleading.
“No,” he repeated, voice firm.
Ari slunk away, looking pitiful.
“You don’t tie him up or anything?” I asked as we started down the driveway.
“No need,” Horse said. “I’m far enough out that I don’t need to worry about kids or strangers hurting him. He knows where his house is and I guess if he decides to run off that’s his choice. So far he seems happy to stay put.”
Kind of like me, I realized. I could leave at any time, but I wouldn’t and Horse knew it.
He surprised me by pulling onto the freeway after we hit Coeur d’Alene, driving across the border into Washington. After about twenty minutes he exited near a giant mall, pulling around and parking without a word.
“I thought we were getting groceries,” I said, confused.
“We are,” Horse replied. “Gotta get some other stuff first.”
I followed him into the mall and couldn’t help but notice how much attention he got—most of it from women. I got that, because Horse was a hell of a sight. Tall, tattooed, hair back in a ponytail and wearing his cut over a shirt so faded you couldn’t tell what the original design had been. Jeans showcased his exceptionally fine ass, and the chain dangling across his hip attached to his wallet completed the picture perfectly. Men noticed him too. Most of them got out of his way, even the young toughs wearing gang colors and pretending to be badasses. I couldn’t decide if it felt more like walking with a superhero or a super villain—either way, people cleared out of path fast.
I tagged along without question until we stopped in front of Victoria’s Secret. Then I crossed my arms and shook my head.
“Oh hell no. I’m not going in there with you. We can hit a Walmart or something.”
“Don’t want you wearing shit that you wore for Gary,” Horse replied, draping an arm around my neck, pulling me into his body. He leaned over and spoke directly in my ear, voice husky. “I don’t give a damn if you never wear panties again, but I know women are weird about that. Here’s the compromise. I’m gonna buy you new shit, but only shit I like. You’re gonna wear it until I pull it off to f**k you. Everyone wins.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it closed. I needed panties and bras, and I didn’t have my own transportation. I’d been smart enough to shove my cash and debit card into the backpack last night, but that money had to last until I got another job.
Shit, I’d forgotten about work.
“I need to call my boss,” I said.
“You scheduled to work today?” he asked, sliding his hand up to tangle it in my hair. I shook my head.
“No, not until tomorrow.”
“So you call her when we get home.”
“What am I going to tell her?” I fretted. “She’s been so good to me, she doesn’t deserve to have me just disappear on her without notice…”
“Tell her you got kidnapped by a biker and now you’re a prisoner in the mountains,” he said, leaning over and catching my mouth with his in a long, slow kiss that left me shaky. Before I could collect my thoughts, he grabbed my hand and tugged me into the store. I pulled back, still not too happy about the idea. He turned toward me, put both his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to me, face to face.
“Babe, I can’t wait to see you in some of this shit,” he said. “Your old job is not my priority here. I don’t give a f**k what you tell her so long as she doesn’t file a missing persons report and make my life a pain in the ass. She does, things aren’t gonna go well. We clear?”
“Okay,” I said, biting my lip. His eyes caught on my mouth and grew dark, so I quickly pulled away and wandered toward a rack of panties—simple ones. Pretty but not slutty, plain cotton hip-huggers. Horse followed me, watching as I picked out a couple and shook his head.
“Get a few of those, you’ll want ’em when you’re on the rag,” he muttered, fingering one distastefully. “But the rest of the time I want you in something sexier.”
His tone didn’t leave any room for negotiation, so I didn’t bother arguing when he turned me bodily and pushed me toward the racks of higher-end stuff. A saleswoman came up to us, all fluttering lashes and smiles for Horse. Before I knew it, I was in a changing room with her, she had measured me and there was a pile of stuff for me to try on. Horse wanted to come in too, but I held my ground, so he waited outside and I called him in to look at each set once I had it on. I don’t know what the store policy was on couples in the rooms alone, but apparently it didn’t apply to giant bikers.
Unfortunately, this meant that he made the final decision on both what I tried on and what he planned to buy. In the end, I had six new pairs of sexy panties with matching bras, in addition to six pairs of plain cotton ones. Some of them were thongs, some were boy cut high across my ass, but all of them showed off my figure in a way that even I had to admit was hot. Then he started picking out corsets and nighties. Some of them looked like something from a bordello, all black lace, cutouts and bright red satin. Others were more tasteful, including a long, lacy nightgown and matching silk robe that looked almost virginal. My favorite piece was an ivory corset and bustier trimmed with faintly pink ribbons shaped like tiny roses. There were matching panties, and the look on Horse’s face when he saw them turned me liquid.
We ended up spending more than a thousand bucks. I almost had a heart attack, but Horse just ignored me as he paid the girl in cash. I don’t know whose eyes were wider when he pulled out that wad of bills, hers or mine. Then he handed me a black pushup bra and matching thong, saying, “Go put them on.”
I did what he said.
I figured that was the end of our shopping, but when we got back in the car he drove me to a motorcycle dealership. There he bought me a couple of Harley-Davidson tank tops that were way, way tighter than anything I’d ever worn in public before and a lightweight leather jacket. Next we stopped at a place called the Line—a strip club with an attached store full of women’s clothing. Apparently it belonged to the Reapers, and while the place wasn’t open yet for the day, the staff had arrived and were busy getting ready.
“I don’t like this place,” I told him as I followed him through the club toward a door in the far wall. Everywhere I looked were girls wearing almost nothing, some of them naked except for thongs and high heels while others wore silky robes. A few of them took his arm, pressing against his side. Some looked at me speculatively. One reached down and slid her hand over his fly, squeezing as she kissed his neck.
“Back off,” Horse said, clearly annoyed. She pouted and turned, glaring at me. “Fuckin’ bitches,” he murmured, unlocking a door leading into the store next door.
It wasn’t open for the day and I was thankful for that. This place made Vicky’s Secret look like a burkha warehouse. Edible panties, stripper heels, leather and lace and sex toys everywhere, including a few that made Horse’s equipment look small, which kind of frightened me. I literally couldn’t find a safe place to put my eyes, so I watched Horse instead as he picked out an outfit best described as “post-modern slut”. It included a dark-brown leather corset/bustier that stopped mid-stomach, exposing my bellybutton and the curves of my waist. He threw in a skirt so short I seriously wondered if I’d get arrested if we went out in public.
“I can’t wear this,” I told him, shaking my head as I looked at myself in the mirror. He stood by the counter, ignoring me. “I can’t, Horse. I’ll die.”
“You’ll wear it,” he replied, obviously preoccupied as he wrote something in a ledger.
“No.”
He looked up at me, taking in my belligerent stance. His eyes narrowed and we stood frozen for nearly a minute, neither of us blinking or giving an inch.
“We gotta go over the rules again?” he asked finally. “Because the way I remember things, you were begging to do whatever it took to save your pansy-ass brother, despite the fact that he came to us, asked us to back him and then screwed us over. In my world, that’s a prepaid funeral. You changing your mind about our deal? Door’s right over there, babe.”
“I don’t understand you,” I said, voice low and unsteady. “You can be so nice sometimes. Why do you do this?” I asked, gesturing to the horrible outfit he’d picked. “Do you really hate me so much? I don’t think I deserve this, Horse.”
He shook his head, reaching up and gripping the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger.
“I don’t hate you, babe,” he said. “You piss me off, but I can live with that. Hell, f**kin’ turns me on most of the time. But you just don’t understand all that’s happening here and I can’t tell you without f**king things up. If this bothers you I’m sorry, but there’s a good reason for it. You’ll just have to trust me.”
He turned back to the ledger, ignoring me for another minute. I watched him, seriously considering whether or not to back out of our deal, but I couldn’t do that to Jeff. He needed me.
“Shit, I forgot,” Horse said suddenly. “You need some shoes too. Go pick something out. Doesn’t matter which ones, any of ’em will do.”
Happy for a distraction, I wandered over to the wall of shoes, thankful that for once I could pick for myself. Then I realized why he didn’t bother telling me what to get, because each and every pair were clearly designed for stripping and nothing else. I settled on a pair of patent leather Mary Janes that would have looked almost demure if they didn’t have a four-inch spike heel.
Amazingly, almost every other shoe had even higher heels, some of them on platforms so tall I doubted I’d be able to take a single step wearing them. I grabbed the shoes and gave them to Horse, who didn’t say anything. His eyes darkened though, and he reached down to adjust his pants. I felt a little thrill of desire and power roar to life, which bugged the crap out of me. Why couldn’t I decide whether I liked him or hated him? How could I go from being angry to horny so incredibly fast? It wasn’t fair. I changed back out of my clothes and he bagged them, along with some teeny tank tops and baby doll t-shirts that read “Support your local Reapers Motorcycle Club”.
At least the trip to the grocery store wasn’t bad. It took us about an hour to get everything on the list. Once again, people took care to stay out of his way, which worked just fine for me. We didn’t even have to wait in line to check out, everyone just waved us ahead of them.
“Is it always like this?” I asked him as we loaded up the groceries.
“Usually,” he replied. “We’re not the biggest club, but we’re definitely in charge around here. So long as they give us respect, it’s all good. Not many citizens up for taking on a Reaper, that’s for damned sure.”
“What happens if they do?” I asked. He gave me a sharp look.
“What do you think?”
Stupid question.
When we got home Horse insisted on unloading the groceries, telling me to go upstairs and put away my new things. While just thinking about the stripper skirt gave me hives, I had to admit that the shoes made me feel sort of sexy. I couldn’t resist trying on the bustier again, which wasn’t so bad with my hip-hugging jeans. I couldn’t see my whole body in the mirror on the top of the dresser, but I saw enough to know I looked good.
Really good.
Once I finished pulling off tags and putting things away I wandered downstairs. Horse was gone, but I found a note on the table.
Got shit to do—hang out and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back around seven. Have dinner ready. We’re going out tonight.