Reaper's Property
Page 7

They’d built a bonfire. Apparently Jeff had sobered up enough to light up something besides more weed. I didn’t have the energy for this. My body had stiffened during the drive, which made climbing out a challenge. I shuffled over to the door, hoping against hope that they were all out back by the fire so I could sneak in and collapse into bed.
No such luck.
I opened the door and walked in to find Horse, Max, Bam Bam and Jeff. I stood there for a minute, holding on to the frame to keep myself upright.
“Holy f**k,” Bam Bam said, and I nodded sagely.
Holy f**k indeed.
Jeff just sat on the couch, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. I didn’t bother talking to him or any of them, just walked painfully toward my bedroom. Then Horse was next to me, very carefully picking me up, kicking open my cracked bedroom door and laying me down on the bed. He turned on the little bedside lamp with a click, washing the room with soft light.
I collapsed back against the pillow, tears of relief welling up in my eyes as I sank into the soft bedding.
Home. I’d made it.
“Who did this?” Horse asked, his voice colder than I’d ever heard it. He sat next to me on the bed, eyes dead and face blank. I didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t handle the reality of him seeing me like this. I closed my eyes, blocking out his face.
“Gary,” I muttered. “My husband. I went to get my stuff. He wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“You need a doctor,” he stated. “You call the cops?”
I shook my head against the pillow.
“No, and I don’t want to talk to anyone about it,” I muttered. “Nobody. I’m not going to the ER, he didn’t break anything. I’m just beat up, nothing serious.”
Horse didn’t say anything for a minute.
“I gotta ask, babe. Did he rape you?”
Fuck. A harsh, short bark of near-hysterical laughter burst out of my mouth. I hadn’t even thought of that—guess it could have been a lot worse. Thanks for that, Gary. Thanks for not raping me, douchebag.
“No.”
“Babe. Look me in the eyes and answer the question.”
I opened my eyes to find him leaning over me, his face filled with terrible tension and a horrible, burning anger I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t have the energy to manage my own emotions, let alone worry about his.
“No, he didn’t rape me,” I said shortly, then closed my eyes again, letting myself drift away from the pain. After a time I heard footsteps enter the room, heard the low rumble of Picnic’s voice, but I couldn’t make out the words at first. He repeated them, coming closer.
“Any witnesses?” Picnic asked. I ignored him.
“Babe, we need to know if there were any witnesses,” Horse said, his voice insistent. “Anyone see what he did to you? Have you told anyone at all?”
“Um, Misty,” I whispered after a pause. “Misty found me. She helped me get into my car. She wanted to call the cops but I wouldn’t let her.”
“Who’s Misty?” Horse asked.
“Gary’s new girlfriend,” I replied, reaching up to explore my split lip gingerly. Even talking hurt. “I actually kind of like her. She packed her stuff and took off. Not as stupid as me, got out quick.”
“You feel like a ride?” Horse asked Picnic.
“Sounds about right,” he replied.
“Let me get her cleaned up, make sure she doesn’t need a doctor first.”
That worked for me.
I drifted in and out after that. Cool water dabbed my face. Horse stuck some pills in my mouth and then held up a cup of water for me to swallow. Jeff sat next to me, holding my hand as the pain faded completely. Good pills, I mused. Definitely not Tylenol. Bikes roared and then I drifted away. When morning came Jeff called in to work, told them I’d been in an accident and would probably need several days off. He tried to get me to eat some breakfast but I couldn’t handle the thought of food. I decided to just lie in bed feeling sorry for myself. Around ten I heard the rumble of bikes again, but this time the whole crew didn’t come inside, just Horse. He walked in and sat next to me on the bed without saying anything.
“I’m pretty tired,” I said, refusing to look at him. I felt so stupid, so embarrassed. I knew Gary could get violent. They warned me at the Women’s Center not to go back by myself, but I’d felt so silly being afraid to visit my own house. “I think you should go.”
Horse stroked a finger along my collarbone, one of the only visible places on my body without ugly purple bruises.
“He’s not going to hurt you again,” he said.
“It’s not your problem, Horse,” I replied. I didn’t want to talk to him. I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep, forget for a little while about what had happened.
“It’s not your problem anymore either.”
Something in his voice caught my attention, so I forced myself to look up at him. His eyes were bloodshot and the muscles in his unshaven jaw clenched. He lifted my hand and kissed it very softly. That’s when I saw his knuckles.
They were completely torn up, crusted over with blood.
He followed my gaze, shaking his head slowly, offering me a strange, sad little smile.
“Don’t ask the question unless you want to hear the answer,” he said. “I’ve gotta go, we’re on a long run. California. If anyone asks, you were in a car accident, okay? Don’t go into it any further than that, as soon as you give out too much information or complicate a lie, it’s harder to keep up with it.”
I nodded, closing my eyes again.
I didn’t even consider asking how he hurt his knuckles.
Chapter Six
The Reapers passed through again a week later, heading back home. By then I was up and moving, although I still hadn’t gone back to work. Denise had come out to visit me—armed with chicken noodle soup and a basket of fresh veggies, including about twenty pounds of zucchini—and declared that I couldn’t watch kids looking like a punching bag. I’d scare them. She promised to hold my job for me though, which I appreciated greatly, and even offered to give me overtime once I was presentable again to make up for the lost income. Her kindness made me cry.
Now I sat outside the trailer in a camp chair, reading an old romance of my mom’s and listening to the roar of a bike coming down our driveway.
Horse.
The others weren’t with him, and I didn’t know what to say as he walked over to me. I still felt stupid and self-conscious. Not only had he seen me at my lowest, but I still looked like hell. Thankfully I’d been right in my initial assessment of the damage—nothing broken, nothing permanent.
“You look like shit,” Horse said helpfully as he pulled up a lawn chair next to me. He sounded almost cheerful, which annoyed me. I glared at him and he smirked. “Still got a sweet butt though.”
I went from annoyed to pissed.
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped. “I don’t like it.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s why I do it. You’re cute when you’re pissed. Kind of like a wet kitten. Gets me hard.”
My jaw dropped. Horse leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his dark, messy hair, grinning at me with that perfect mouth, stubble so long it had turned into a short beard. The man looked extremely pleased with himself.
“Hear from the ex?” he asked.
I shook my head, deciding not address the “gets me hard” comment.
“Glad to hear it, I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again,” he replied. “The guys will be here in a couple hours. They’re grabbing some food, we’ll camp here tonight before heading home.”
“Um, that sounds good,” I said. “Does Jeff know?”
He shook his head.
“No, I just wanted to check on you,” he said. “Is he around?”
I shook my head.
“He went to the casino with some friends, said he might crash at Krissy’s tonight.”
Horse’s face didn’t change, but I felt a distinct chill. Well, fair enough. I didn’t like Jeff going to the casino either. He must have work for them he hadn’t finished yet. Jeff had been going downhill fast the past few weeks, and I couldn’t seem to do anything to halt it or help him.
“Don’t let that stop you,” I added quickly. “You guys are welcome to stay here, especially if you’re bringing your own food.”
I meant it too. Even though he’d scared the hell out of me that unforgettable morning, I felt safe around him, especially now. When I’d been hurt, he protected me. I knew he’d done something nasty to Gary. I supposed I should be upset about that, because violence never solves anything. But Gary deserved whatever he got and then some.
“You want anything to drink?” Horse asked, taking in the empty plastic cup sitting next to me on a plastic milk crate. I smiled at him, trying not to wince as it pulled at my split lip.
“Iced tea?”
“You got it,” he said, snagging my cup and carrying it inside. He came back out with a second one for himself. We sat companionably for the rest of the afternoon, talking about all kinds of things. I learned he’d grown up in a biker family and his father had been one of the first Reapers. His sister was married to Bam Bam. When I’d first met them, the MC had seemed like a gang of thugs, but the way Horse described it was more like a family. A crazy, loud family that fought a lot and occasionally went to jail, but still a family.
That I could understand—after all, my mama was more than a little crazy and sitting in the county jail as we spoke. I still loved her to pieces.
I told him about the brochures I had in my bedroom from the community college in the Tri-Cities. They had a culinary arts program, and the people at the Women’s Center had encouraged me to look into going back to school.
“It’s a good idea,” he said. “I know you like the daycare, but that’s not a long-term thing unless you decide to open a center yourself.”
I shook my head, laughing.
“No way,” I said. “The kids are fun, but I can’t imagine doing that for the rest of my life. Too many diapers.”
“So you don’t want kids of your own? Had enough diapers?”
I shrugged.
“Well, I don’t want to be a single mom, that’s for sure,” I replied. “My mom’s in jail right now for assault with a deadly weapon, which was pretty stupid of her, I admit. But she took good care of us growing up. She worked her ass off before she blew out her back and started drinking. Chronic pain, you know? But she never would have tried to run over that cop if she’d stuck it out in the anger management program. I’m still not sure why she went after the second guy, he’s not the one who wrote the parking ticket…”
Horse burst out laughing, biting it back quick.
I shook my head, narrowing my eyes. He wouldn’t meet my eye, taking a quick drink of his tea. Then I reached over and poked his side and another laugh escaped, which he tried to hide with a cough. I decided to let him off the hook.
“It’s okay,” I said with a smile. “Even Mom laughed when she finally calmed down, and thankfully she never came close to actually hitting them. It wasn’t her finest moment, that’s for sure. She’s got another four months ahead of her though, which isn’t nearly as funny.”
We fell silent for a few minutes. Then he spoke again.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh, the kids,” I looked up at the clouds. One of them looked kind of like my mom holding a cigarette. I smiled. “Actually, I think I’d like kids. But not by myself and not if I can’t stay home with them. Jeff and I had to be on our own way too much, and while I don’t blame Mom for that, I want something better for my own family.”
I looked over to find him staring at me intently. I blushed, though I couldn’t say why.
“What about you?”
“I want kids,” he said. “My mom would kill me if I didn’t give her at least a couple of grandbabies. Never had an old lady though, not a keeper at least. Kinda hard to have one without the other.”
“That’s the truth,” I replied, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. “Tell me something. What’s with the ‘old lady’ thing? Seems like a nasty thing to call someone you care about.”
“It’s a term of respect,” he replied. I shrugged, but he reached out and touched my shoulder, getting me to look at him. His expression was intent and focused. “Seriously, a biker’s old lady is like his wife. She’s his woman, his property, and if anyone f**ks with her the entire club will come down on them. Hard.”
“Property?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. “That sounds even worse.”
“You don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “Things are different in the outside world, but the club is a tribe. If a woman isn’t claimed, she’s fair game. But when a biker brands her as his property, she’s untouchable.”
“I still can’t imagine being called property,” I snapped. He blew out his breath, exasperated.
Before he could reply, we heard the roar of pipes in the distance. For once, his friends had good timing. They pulled into the yard with a rumble, carrying bags full of KFC chicken and biscuits. I don’t usually eat stuff like that, but as the sun faded and they laid out their bedrolls, I couldn’t imagine anything tastier than the plate of junk food balanced on my knees.
None of them mentioned my bruises, which I appreciated. Picnic brought me a box of chocolate-covered dried cherries. They built a bonfire and we all sat around drinking beer and laughing until my head drooped. When I got up to go to bed, Horse followed me in and it felt natural for him to climb in beside me. He seemed to understand how sore I was and didn’t so much as kiss me, although I felt his erection several times during the night. I felt safe in his arms. The next day they took off at first light while I was still half asleep.