Reaper, page 3
“Ava!” Elena calls out.
I scan the crowd to see her rushing toward me. My sister is wearing white skinny jeans with a cute blue shirt tied up at the front, exposing her stomach, and it looks as though she’s wearing a cut over the top.
When she gets closer, I see that at the top, where a pocket would be, it reads War Brothers MC. Underneath it says Property of Axle, and it sends shivers up my spine.
“What’s this?” I cannot keep the disdain from my voice.
Her brow furrows. “It means that I’m his ol’ lady. It’s a tradition.”
I don’t answer, my eyes narrowing a fraction.
She shakes her head. “I can see your mind spinning. It means that I’m off limits to every other man.”
“I still don’t like it.” Not after everything I’ve been through. I could wear nothing that suggests I’m the property of a man.
“How are you feeling?”
“A little better after sleep, though I think I could sleep for days.”
Her eyes soften and a genuine smile curves on her lips. “That’s good.”
I look around. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.”
MC paraphernalia is plastered everywhere. A flag with their logo hangs on a wall. It’s a skull with two guns behind it, with War Brothers MC across the bottom. A motorcycle rests in the corner, and photos of mug shots of the men litter the walls.
Everything is wood and has a masculine style. It has a wooden floor, exposed wooden beams, and wooden furniture, so it has an industrial feel to it. The place is open plan, so I can see what’s going on around me.
“It surprised me when I first came here as well.” She looks at the bar, then at me. “Do you want a drink?”
I give her a clipped nod and follow her over to where Jake is sitting. When we reach Jake, he puts an arm around her waist. “Ava,” he says and tips his beer in greeting.
“Hey, Jake.”
Elena sits on the stool next to Jake and pats the spare chair beside her. I take a seat. “Everyone calls each other by their road names, not by their actual names. So Jake’s road name is Axle.”
“If everyone but you calls him Axle, I’ll call him that too.”
“Fine by me.” She looks at the other guy. “This is Cash. Cash, this is Ava, my sister.”
He is tall, wearing a white shirt with his cut over the top, and has shaved black hair.
“Howdy,” he says with a grin as he finishes wiping a glass.
“Nice to meet you, Cash.”
“What would you two ladies like to drink?”
“Four shots—all tequilas,” I answer, feeling Elena’s eyes on me.
He lets out a low whistle. “Big night?”
“Something like that,” I mumble, craving the numbness.
As he pours the tequila into four shot glasses, Elena gags. “Ewww. I hate tequila.” She peers at me. “Ever since we got drunk off it that time, I haven’t been able to touch it.”
“Wow, that was a long time ago.” I don’t remember the taste, but I know it’s not pleasant.
Cash places two shots in front of each of us.
“Hmm . . .” Elena looks at the shots like they’re poisonous. “It still haunts me.”
“I’ll have yours, too, if you don’t want them.”
“No. I’ll do it,” she grumbles as she picks one up and, with her other hand, blocks her nose. I pick mine up, and we clink glasses and gulp them. The tequila burns the entire way down my throat.
Elena coughs and Axle pats her back. She slides the other shot over to me. “I can’t do another.” Her face scrunches. “It tastes like what I think nail polish remover would taste like.”
Without a second thought, I pick it up and down it, then pick up the other and do the same, not even taking a breath between. It makes my eyes water, and I fight the need to retch, but soon after, a warm sensation fills my stomach. “Two more, please.”
Elena gives me a sympathetic smile. “Are you sure?”
I put my hand up. “Yes!” After I slam those drinks down, the stress lifts.
“Why the name War Brothers MC?” I ask.
Her smile slips. “Most of them served in the military. Reaper, Bomber, and Viper were in the Special Forces together. When they came back, they wanted that brotherhood again, so they created the War Brothers MC. Bomber’s family founded the town, and because Bomber owned this property, the MC decided to set up here, in Crown Village. Jake described it as it gave them a home and a purpose because they got to make friends with other men that went through similar experiences when they were at war.”
I respect that, and I raise a brow at her. “So there’s more to them that meets the eye?”
“There certainly is,” she says as her eyes soften. “Well, I better give you the rundown on everyone here. Jake is the road captain. Cash here,” she says and glances at him, “is the treasurer, and as you can see, he’s easygoing.”
She turns her head to the left and whispers, “The man at the end of the bar with the black hair, that’s Bomber.” I turn to where she is looking and watch as he slowly brings the glass to his lips and downs his drink, then slams the glass back onto the table.
“He is the sergeant at arms.” She leans in closer, making sure only I can hear. “He’s very blunt and straight to the point, so don’t take it personally.”
My eyes widen. “What do you mean by that? I can’t handle another man like my husband.”
“Oh, no, not like that. I meant he can appear cold, but it’s just the way he is. The men here are different to anyone you have met before, but to be clear, none of them hurt women. Well . . . only if they ask for it.” Her face flushes pink. “Some women are into that type of stuff.”
My head falls back. “Elena. I don’t want to know.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Axle asks.
Giggling, she looks over her shoulder. “Nothing.” She leans in closer again. “So you won’t have any issue with Bomber trying to hook up with you, but some others . . .” Before jumping off her chair, she cringes. “I’m going to introduce Ava to everyone,” she says to Axle and Cash, then lightly pulls me off my chair.
My head spins from the alcohol, so I grab her arm to stop me from swaying. I’m such a lightweight.
“Make sure you say her name, so they know exactly who she is,” Axle says.
“I will,” Elena replies.
She links her arm with mine, and as we take two steps toward Bomber, a woman steps in front of us and slides in next to him, clutching his arm. When she squeals, I shift to the side to see him grasping her forearm with cold eyes.
“No one touches me,” he grates out. It startles me, so I step back and scowl at Elena.
She shakes her head at me. “He won’t hurt her, he just”—she looks away before looking back at me and lowering her voice—“he doesn’t like them touching him. They keep trying, even though he has made it clear that he won’t sleep with them.”
“I’m sorry, Bomber, I forgot,” the woman says, trying to sound confident, but there’s a hitch in her voice. “I can come around later, baby?”
She is so forward. What in the world is this place?
He hisses and lets go of her arm. “No.”
It is clear and concise, and no one could have mistaken the edge in his voice. I don’t understand why she would try if he didn’t even like her touching his arm.
She nods, and when she scrambles out of the way, his eyes land on us. Elena hesitates before giving him a smile. “I wanted to introduce you to my sister, Ava.”
His eyes survey my face, and it’s a reminder they can see my bruises. He watches me warily and lifts his chin in acknowledgement. I try to smile, though I’m not sure whether it comes across as a grimace.
“Will your husband be giving us any trouble?”
I sharply inhale as my heart beats faster. “I . . . don’t think so.” He searches my eyes as if trying to find out if I’m telling the truth, and I shift on my feet, my gaze going to the floor. When my eyes reach his again, I reply, “Well, I hope not.” He slowly nods at me.
When we turn to leave him, Elena whispers, “I’m sorry. He means well. It’s part of his job to ensure the security of the club, so he has to know everything that’s going on. He might have more questions to ask you.”
My stomach twists, and I don’t know whether it’s from the alcohol or because I’ll be interrogated later.
Elena looks over, searching the room, and points to a chair near the lounge. “The younger one, getting a lap dance with his hat on backward, is Twitch. He’s really nice, and he’s their computer and all-things-technology expert.” He’s smiling as he gawks at the woman with the red thong grinding on his crotch.
I look away as I lift my hand to my heated cheek. I’m not used to everyone being so open with their sexuality. “He looks, ah, busy now. Can I meet him later?”
Elena giggles. “Sure.” She searches the room once more. “I can’t see the prospect around, but his name is Rage.”
“Oh, lovely,” I reply. Though the alcohol has released some tension, there’s still dread from the sound of his name.
Her brow furrows. “It’s weird. He’s not actually angry in person. I think he gets his name from the fighting competition that the MC hosts. Viper’s the one to stay away from. He’s the manwhore of the club. Oh, and avoid Demon, too.”
“Okay, I’ll stay away from them. Demon? The name sounds terrible. What’s he look like?” I ask so I can stay far, far away.
“Demon is the enforcer. You can’t miss him. He’s covered in tattoos and has a mohawk.”
At least Beau would never walk into this place with MC men living here.
“Demon’s the one that handles club business.” She hooks air quotes.
My head tilts to the side. “What do you mean by that?”
“Have you seen the one percent on their cut?”
“Yes, I saw it on Axle’s.”
“Do you know what it means?”
I answer with a clipped, “no.”
“It means they’re outlaws. They have their own set of values and laws.”
“Okay . . .” I gulp. “But I still don’t understand what that has got to do with Demon being a club member.”
“So normal people go to jail when convicted of a crime. In the MC, Demon gives out the punishment.” She doesn’t expand on that, and she doesn’t need to.
“Okay, got it. It’s a different world here.”
“It is,” she agrees.
I peek at Bomber again. “Is Demon scarier than Bomber?”
She laughs, and I gawk at her. “It depends on what you think scary is.”
“But they won’t hurt me?” I ask slower than usual.
She frowns and rubs my shoulder with her other hand. “None of them would hurt you.”
“And pretty boy?”
“Pretty boy?” she asks with furrowed brows. “Who’s that?” Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “That name suits him. That’s Viper, who I was talking about before. Don’t be fooled by his panty-dropping smile or smooth talking. He’ll try to get into your pants.”
“Noted. I saw some woman pulling him along the hallway upstairs.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s a normal occurrence for all the men around here. Well, everybody except Jake and Bomber.”
After a moment, I laugh inappropriately. “If only Mom and Dad could see us now.”
Elena snorts. “It would mortify them. Both of their daughters now being sinners.”
“I think I need more alcohol.”
She puts my arm around her shoulder, helping me stay upright. “No, you do not. I think it’s time for bed.”
“What about meeting everyone else?”
“You can do that tomorrow.”
“Mmm . . .” I mutter, then yawn, my eyes and body heavy.
Commotion causes our heads to turn to a man with an MC cut on, who is at least six foot five, and a man cowering on the floor below him. “You are no longer welcome here.”
The house goes quiet.
The guy on the ground looks terrified, and he furiously nods in response.
“Now, leave.” His deep voice echoes in the house. Whoever this man is, he held everyone’s attention, and when he spoke, everyone listened.
The other man is shaking. He gets to his feet and runs toward the front of the house.
“I . . . I don’t know if I can stay here.” My eyes bounce between Bomber and the tall man. When he turns slightly, I can see him side on. He looks somewhat familiar.
“You are safe here with them. They are good men. They’re different, but once you get to know them, you will see. Trust me?” Elena asks.
“I trust you.”
Four men step forward with a different cut from the others. One of them steps closer to the intimidating man. “I’m sorry, Reaper, that’s our new prospect. It won’t happen again.”
“I don’t care who he is. I want him gone, Jude. When our women say no, they fucking mean it. I have zero tolerance for that bullshit.”
“Done.” He looks at the men behind him. “It’s time to head back to our clubhouse.” The men walk out toward the front of the house, but their leader stays behind. “We will set up a meeting soon to talk about the progress and estimated delivery times.” The man looks around to everyone and tilts his head forward. “Have a good evening, everyone.”
When he leaves, I ask, “Who’s that?”
“They were a few members from the Kings of Chaos MC. The last man to leave was their president.”
My eyes bounce back to the tall man. “And who is that?”
I’m not yet able to see his full face from where I’m standing.
“Reaper,” Elena replies quietly, then pauses. “The president of the War Brothers MC.”
He shifts to face our way, and when I see him, it clicks. “Oooh, I saw him at your wedding. I was talking to him there.”
I remember how, even in our brief conversation, he made me smile, and it was because he gave me a compliment. My heart squeezes at the thought because it had been so long since I genuinely smiled, and it felt like forever since I had been noticed. Beau and I were together for so long I forgot not all men are the same.
“When Beau and I had sex that night, I was imagining it was Reaper.”
She bursts out laughing. “You are drunk.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
She giggles again. “Yep.” She attempts to help me up the stairs as I lean into her, my arm around her shoulder.
I peek down once more to see Reaper watching me. The intensity startles me and I trip up the last step and land on my ass.
“Are you all right?” Elena’s face comes into view, though she’s a little blurry.
“Ugh, yeah. I think so.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me up. We make it through the hallway, and she opens a bedroom door and helps me through it. I fall on the bed, on my stomach.
“What happened just then with Reaper?” I mumble as my eyes close and exhaustion hits me.
“Even though the women are sweet butts, they are still under the MC’s protection.”
“Sweet butts,” I repeat through a smile. “That’s a funny name.”
“They do anything the guys need them to, and the MC gives them a roof over their head and food.”
One eye cracks open. “So they have to have sex with them?”
“Oh, no,” she says with a scrunched-up face. “The women want to. They aren’t being forced to do anything, and you can pay your way by helping with cooking and cleaning.”
“Thanks, Elena,” I mumble. “Thank you for everything.”
My eyes open to the twinge of pain of my full bladder. Feeling as though it might burst, I sit up in bed. My hand goes to my head as I groan, knowing I shouldn’t have had those shots when I rarely drink alcohol. I stand with a hunched back and walk with one arm low so I don’t trip over and one arm held out in front so I don’t walk into the wall. My body is still sore, but not as much as it was this morning.
I touch a smooth surface, sliding my fingers across the wall until I grasp the door handle and open it. The music is still on, but it isn’t as loud as it was before. A faint light shines from the hallway leading downstairs.
After relieving myself, I throw some water on my face. My hands fall on either side of the sink. This is the reason I don’t drink, but I welcomed the few hours of distraction. I think Beau has scarred me forever.
When I reach the bedroom, I open the door, though I swear I left it open. I blame the alcohol. When I walk in, it’s as dark as it was before, so I reach out again, trying not to run into anything. When my hands meet the bed, I lie down, and a small moan escapes my lips when I breathe in. Whatever that smell is, it smells so good, and I nuzzle into the pillow and sigh.
Four
In His Arms
Ava
My body shifts from the heat under me. My hand moves, and my head burrows in, trying to get comfortable, but I’m lying on something hard. There’s a distinct, soothing beating sound, thump, thump, thump. I open my eyes to a bright light and squint before gazing down. My heart stops. It just stops. I gasp loudly and yank my body off of him and crawl backward. Then I’m falling, and I land on the floor with a thud.
His head turns while his sleepy eyes follow my movements. He blinks a few times as if checking that I’m there, then they widen.
“What are you doing in my bed?” I ask, my voice raised.
He sits up lazily, scratching the back of his head. “You mean, what are you doing in my bed?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.
My gaze darts around the room, and the realization makes my stomach sink. “I’m so sorry. I must have mistaken your room for mine last night.” A blush burns my cheeks.
“That’s the first time I’ve had a woman apologize for waking up in my bed.”
In my head, I’m praying, Please, God, make me disappear!
