Reaper's Property (Reapers MC #1) Page 6

  “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 raised a cup of water to my lips. 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 stay 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 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. 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. His stubble was 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?”

  “No, I just wanted to check on you,” he replied. “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—a
fter all, my mama was more than a little crazy, and she was 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’ve 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 name 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 fucks 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.

  That afternoon I got a text from Horse, telling me to look at the “favorites” list on my phone.

  He’d programmed himself into it, right at the top.

  August 23

  Horse: How’s it going?

  Me: Good. Kid barfed at me at work, but I managed to jump out of the way :)

  Horse: Sounds like fun. Bike broke down here

  Me: That sucks. You have a car?

  Horse: SUV. Good for getting around, esp in snow. Hate feeling caged tho. What you doing?

  Me: In yard, catching sun.

  Horse: What you wearing?

  Me: Nothing. Working on tan all over

  Horse: !!!! You fucking me????

  Me: LOL I’m wearing a tee and shorts :->

  Horse: Too good to be true. Going to try to make it down next week

  Me: Give me heads up

  Horse: I will. TTYL

  August 27

  Me: Bored. Hows the bike?

  Horse: Bored is better than barfed on. Bike up and running again.

  Me: Congrats! Kind of excited, going out tonight. Friend Cara from HS came to visit from NY. Like old times

  Horse: Out?

  Me: Dancing in tri-cities. Some club. Gonna slut up and everything!

  Horse: Huh. Be careful

  Me: Always. Excited tho. Haven’t gone out since Gary

  Horse: Looking for new man?

  Me: Um…not really. Just fun

  Horse: Watch out and don’t dress too slutty. Don’t want trouble

  Me: Had enough trouble, trust me

  Horse: True. Send me a pic later

  Me: OK

  Me: So what you think? Too slutty?

  Horse: Hot. Definitely too slutty. Go change.

  Me: Prude :-P

  Horse: Text me when you get home

  Me: Night gone to shit

  Horse: ?

  Me: Jeff is sick, really sick. Asked me to stay home with him. Thought I might have to take him to the hosp but all right now

  Horse: That sucks. He okay?

  Me: Think so. Getting checked tomorrow, stomach pain

  Horse: Sorry

  Me: Me too. Cara leaving tomorrow, so no party for me…

  August 28

  Horse: Hows Jeff?

  Me: Fine, like nothing happened. Doc says must have been gas

  Horse: Heh

  Me: Bad gas

  Horse: Sorry about going out. Glad nobody saw you dressed like that

  Me: Jealous? ;)

  Horse: What do you think? Gotta go, church in a few

  Me: Church?!?? Didn’t peg you for a church kind of guy

  Horse: What we call a club meeting. I try to stay away from collection plates

  Me: Don’t get holy water in your beer!

  September 1

  Me: Going to see mom today. Hate jail

  Horse: Watch out for LEO

  Me: LEO?

  Horse: Law enforcement officers. Jail crawling with them

  Me: LOL. Cause I break so many laws?

  Horse: No, cause you keep bad company :-> Social visit or something up?

  Me: Just regular, try to go every week since closer now. Harder when I lived with Gary. Didn’t like me seeing her. Calls cost too much $ tho, so visiting important.

  Horse: I get it. Got brothers inside. Hope visit is good

  Me: Thanks

  Horse: Send another pic?

  Me: Um, not dressed up

  Horse: Don’t care. Send it. Want to see you today

  Me: Okay :)

  I hate the county jail.

  I’ve spent way too many hours in the waiting room, although I know it’s
probably better than visiting a real prison. The county guys look at me like I’m trash and occasionally they cop a feel while patting me down.

  That’s the price of seeing my mom.

  They put me in a little room that had a built-in table, sort of like those tables at McDonald’s where you can’t move the chairs. But here the chairs were just stools and the whole thing was white. After a few minutes the door opened and Mom came in. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit, and even though it had to be the ugliest piece of clothing on earth, Mom looked fantastic. Seriously.

  My mom is hot, always has been, something that drove me crazy during high school. But from the way she walked, I could tell that her back was hurting worse than usual. She had a bunch of ruptured discs and no health insurance to fix them. The doctors wanted her to have surgery, but the county didn’t want to pay for it, so she was stuck in limbo.

  I stood and hugged her.

  “Hey, Mama,” I whispered into her hair, which looked fantastic even though she didn’t have styling stuff or anything. How did her hair look better in jail than mine did after two hours fixing it? Just another part of the mystery that was my crazy, loving, incredibly-difficult-at-times mother.

  “Hey, baby,” she replied, holding me tight. She smelled a little like cigarettes, which I know a lot of people find disgusting, but I find strangely comforting—so long as it’s not totally filling our trailer with smoke. It made me think of when she’d come home late after work when we were little. She’d walk into the bedroom I shared with Jeff and kiss us both good night. That little hint of smoke was the smell of comfort and safety.

  We separated and took seats.

  “So how’s it going with you?” she asked. I’d put on lots of foundation to cover my bruises but her eyes flickered across them. “Gary?”

  “Yeah,” I said, flushing. “I was stupid, went back there alone to get some stuff. He was drunk.”

  Her mouth tightened, eyes filling with tears of anger or frustration, I couldn’t tell which.

  “I wish I was out of here,” she said. “I’d kill that bastard.”

  “Mom! Don’t talk like that. They’re probably listening—they’ll think you mean it.”