Reaper's Property
Page 6

Horse let go of my hip, grabbing my hair roughly and twisting my head around to the side. His lips covered mine, taking me hard, tongue thrusting in and out. I moaned, collapsing against him. His other hand reached around to my front, ripping open the buttons on my capris, and I heard one clatter against the floor. His fingers plunged into my panties, sliding roughly along my clit before sinking into me. I moaned, despising myself because it turned me on so much.
He pulled his mouth away from mine, pinning me with his gaze. I couldn’t breathe, his eyes were so intense—full of desire and lust and anger, all directed at me.
“This pu**y,” he said, fingering me. I moaned in response, ashamed at how easily he made me wet. “This pu**y is mine. You are mine. I’ll f**k you when and where I want, and you can either take it or get the f**k out. Are we clear?”
I nodded, shivering. I wanted to hate him but my body disagreed. He kept his hand in my hair, holding me tight as he stroked me repeatedly. My legs weakened and I whimpered, desperate for relief. That’s when he took my mouth again.
Now his tongue thrust in time with his fingers. The flesh between my legs tightened, muscles flexing all over my body. Horse stroked harder and I quivered on the edge. He pulled his mouth away from mine, dropping his lips to my neck, licking and sucking as I thrust my hips against him, desperate to come. Then he bit my neck and I moaned.
Loud enough to be heard in the other room, I’m sure.
Horse pulled his hand out of my pants and stepped back. I froze in disbelief, my panting breath loud in the room. When I turned to him, shaky, he gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Then he slowly and deliberately lifted his fingers, licking off my juices.
“Don’t care how good you taste, you don’t call the shots,” he whispered. “We clear?”
“Your rules,” I whispered back. “Or I leave. And what happens if I do?”
“To you?” he said. “Nothing. You’re with me of your own free will. But the club has to be paid in blood, Marie, not even I control that. Don’t forget.”
I nodded quickly.
He pushed me gently to the side and opened my lingerie drawer, digging around in it. He pulled out several thongs and a teddy, tossing them on the floor.
“You won’t need these,” he said. I nodded as he turned back to the drawer, trying not to think of what else he would find in there. I winced as he stopped suddenly, thinking I had the shittiest luck on earth because this wasn’t going to be pretty.
He pulled out the bundled black Reapers t-shirt he’d left crumpled on my floor after that disastrous night he’d spent in my bed, hefting it as he glanced toward me with a question in his eyes. I shook my head, blushing fiercely, reaching out to take it.
Horse didn’t hand it over. Instead he unrolled it, eyes widening as he found the bright-pink jelly vibrator with the dual heads, one for my clit and one for my G-spot. We both stood there silently, looking at it. Then he rolled it back up and handed it to me, eyes full of satisfaction.
“Pack the shirt and the toy,” he said, watching as I stuck it in the bottom of my backpack. I don’t think I’d ever been more embarrassed in my life. I didn’t meet his eyes as I dumped the rest of my things in, zipped it up and threw it over my shoulder.
“That it?” he asked. “You want anything else from the living room or kitchen? It won’t be here if you try to come back.”
I shook my head, still unable to speak. Stupid, stupid, stupid…
He leaned in close and whispered in my ear.
“Next time you want to play with your pretty pink toy, you do it while I’m watching. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you wear the tee. Got it?”
I nodded. We walked out through the living room, past Jeff and the Reapers, and out the front door.
Chapter Five
Aug. 13—Six weeks earlier
I didn’t expect to see Horse again after the abrupt end I’d called to our lovemaking. Picnic, Max and another guy called Bam Bam had been to visit a couple of times. Jeff seemed happy enough to see them, and they all loved the food I cooked. After they’d leave though, Jeff would always get real quiet and touchy. He’d also started going to the casino more often, which worried me.
He never came home acting like a man who’d won.
But even though I sensed something was wrong, I had come to enjoy their visits. I wasn’t sure if I wanted Horse to come back or not. Every time I saw bikes in the driveway, I was terrified I’d see him and disappointed when I didn’t. I dreamed about him all the time, and more than once I’d re-lived our incredible morning together with my vibrator.
Apparently he’d forgotten about me though. I wasn’t about to ask any of the other guys about him. I couldn’t stand pity, and that was about the best I could hope for from them. During this time, Jeff seemed more and more detached, smoking out constantly and barely talking to me or eating. I worried about him, of course, and today I was particularly frustrated because he’d promised me he’d stay sober.
You see, today I planned to go pick up my stuff from my old house.
Yesterday had been my day off, and I’d driven to the Women’s Center in Kennewick to try to figure out how to divorce Gary. I couldn’t afford a lawyer but I didn’t want anything from him, so I figured it would be quick and easy. If I got lucky, I wouldn’t even have to see him. I could just send over the papers for him to sign.
But the super-sweet woman who met with me, Ginger, shared some hard truths. For example, when I left, I’d grabbed my purse and a bag full of clothing. But I hadn’t gotten my social security card, my birth certificate, the title to my car or my pictures or keepsakes or anything. And she was right when she pointed out that while I might not care about any of that stuff now, I might need it down the line. I certainly shouldn’t trust Gary with it.
She made a good point.
She also wanted me to file for a restraining order against him, but I knew Gary. A restraining order would piss him off in a big way. Right now he wasn’t messing with me. If I provoked him like that he might find me and hurt me again, so I came up with a plan to go to the house and get my stuff when I knew he’d be gone.
Every Monday he played poker with his buddies. He didn’t even skip out when his mom died. If I went on a Monday I’d be safe, unless I ran into Misty, who was not only his new whore, but who’d worked at the grocery store with me for two years. Last time I checked, she had a regular Monday night shift. Even if I ran into her, I figured she’d stay out of my way—it wasn’t like I was a threat to her, and I wasn’t afraid of her. She might be taller than me, but she was a frighteningly skinny thing who took her manicure way too seriously to get in a cat fight. In fact, the longer I was free from Gary, the more pity I felt for her. I’d already slipped out of the noose, but her?
She’d been stupid enough to take it from me, put it around her own neck and tighten it up.
Still, just in case, I wanted Jeff to make the two-hour drive back home with me to Ellensburg, where I’d lived with Gary for the past three years. I wasn’t in any real danger, but I still had nightmares about him hitting me. I felt ashamed and embarrassed too. I hadn’t even given notice at Safeway. Even if I didn’t see Jeff, what if I ran into my old boss?
I didn’t want to face anyone.
When I pulled up to the trailer after work, I found Jeff passed out on the couch with his pipe on the floor next to an empty baggie and four beer bottles. I tried waking him up but he was completely faded. Even if I managed to take him with me, he wouldn’t be any help.
So I decided to go by myself.
And yes, I realize now how incredibly stupid that was.
Trust me.
Pulling up to my old house was surreal.
Everything looked the same, but somehow smaller and dirtier. Same ratty lawn, same faded and peeling paint, same battered Mustang up on blocks in the driveway. All in all, it made me feel pretty good about my decision to leave.
Our trailer might be crap, but at least it was in the middle of an orchard. My dad had worked for the owner, John Benson, and part of his compensation included use of the old trailer. When he’d left, John had taken pity on us and let us stay for very low rent, seeing as he didn’t really need it for anything else anyway. I think at some point he and my mom had a thing, but I didn’t know the details and I didn’t want to know them. We did our own repairs, kept a low profile and things worked out okay.
I parked my car in the street, pleased to note Misty’s car wasn’t there and I couldn’t see any lights. None of the neighbors were outside so I didn’t have to make awkward small talk with anyone. It wasn’t that kind of neighborhood anyway—you know, where people look out for each other or have a neighborhood watch.
I had a moment of worry when the door wouldn’t open. I thought maybe he’d changed the locks, but then it popped loose. Everything looked the same inside, but messier. Apparently Misty wasn’t much of a house cleaner. I giggled, figuring that had to drive Gary crazy.
Jackass.
I found my papers easily enough, everything except the car title. I kept a shoebox of keepsakes and photos in the closet in our spare bedroom. It hadn’t been disturbed, so I carried it out to the car and put it in the hatchback, then gave in to temptation and went back inside. I figured while I was there I might as well see if any of my clothes were around, or if Misty had thrown them out.
Surprisingly, she hadn’t. I found them neatly bagged and labeled on the back porch. Convenient. It took four trips to get it all in the car, and then I went in one last time. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for… Maybe some kind of closure? He still had our wedding picture up on the wall, right next to the one from our senior prom. I studied myself in them, wishing I could go back in time and give myself some friendly advice, something along the lines of run away and never, ever look back!
For some reason I couldn’t explain, I pulled the wedding picture off the wall, snapped off the back of the frame and took it out. It wasn’t anything special, just a five-by-seven snapshot. We didn’t have a real photographer at the wedding.
Still, it was a good picture.
Gary looked young and handsome, and I looked fresh and pretty and full of excitement for the future. I don’t know how long I stood there, lost in my thoughts, but I didn’t notice when Gary walked into the house, reeking of beer and smoke, until he threw his keys down on the coffee table.
I spun around, jaw dropping. My hands trembled so much I dropped the picture.
“Um, hi, Gary?” I managed to whisper.
“That’s the day you f**ked me over,” he said, tilting his chin toward our wedding picture. His face was bright red and I saw the vein in his forehead start to pulse. He was angry. Really angry. “I could have been anything, but you needed a wedding ring and now I’m stuck in this cow town with nothing. Great f**king plan, Marie. Hope you’re proud of yourself.”
I watched him warily as he stalked toward me, trying not to give in to panic. The last time I’d seen him was when he backhanded me across our kitchen. I wasn’t prepared for the terror and sense of helplessness that hit me at the memory, paralyzing my body. I forced myself to think. Could I make it past him and through the front door? He laughed.
“You here to f**k me over again, cunt?”
The words were slurred. Gary was drunk. Seriously drunk. Maybe even blackout drunk.
I needed to get out of here. Now.
I made a break for it but he lunged at me, tackling me to the floor with the same strength and speed that made him our high school quarterback. My head slammed into the hardwood I’d been so excited to discover last year when we’d pulled out the carpet, pain exploding through me. Gary sat up, straddling me and grabbing the front of my shirt, pulling me up.
Then he started punching me.
Details are fuzzy after that.
I spent a long time on the floor, moaning. Misty walked through the door at some point and started screaming. Gary lay passed out on the couch, oblivious as she helped me get up and walked me into the kitchen. She wanted to call the cops but I begged her not to—I couldn’t handle the humiliation of facing them, all the questions and pitying looks.
I also didn’t want to like Misty.
I’d felt devastated and betrayed when I learned she was sleeping with my husband—the fight we’d had about her led to him hitting me in the first place. But her touch was soft and gentle, the horror in her eyes genuine. She forced me to take some Tylenol when I refused to go to the emergency room. Then she went and threw everything of hers into three suitcases, crying big, silent tears the entire time. The Tylenol kicked in pretty fast, and while I couldn’t help her haul out her things, I held the door for her. We locked it behind us and I watched as she loaded her car. Then she took my arm, walking me over to mine.
“Are you sure you won’t let me call the cops?” she asked. “He needs to pay for this. I knew he drank and his temper is kind of crazy, but I had no idea…”
“I just want to go home,” I whispered. She took me in her arms, hugging me gently, and a small, detached part of my psyche marveled that my savior turned out to be a woman I’d hated so much. Life is weird.
“Don’t come back here,” she whispered back. “A man who can do that, he might kill you next time. I’m going to stay with my brother for a while, I think. He’s a cop. I’ll be safe, but Gary talks about you all the time, how much he hates you, how pissed off he is that you guys got married and he never did anything with his life. Please don’t come back.”
“I won’t be back,” I said, and I meant it.
It was after three in the morning when I pulled up to the trailer. I must have the shittiest luck on earth, because there were five bikes parked outside, loaded down with saddlebags and bedrolls. I sat in the car just looking at them, exhausted. Every light in the trailer was turned on and I saw a flickering orange glow around the east corner.