Текст книги "Reaper's Legacy"
Автор книги: Joanna Wylde
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
“I haven’t decided about the party,” I whispered. “But I’m done with this conversation. I’m going back downstairs.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, and that little, instinctive voice deep down inside me screaming to run finally won. I slid off the stool and made a break for the stairs. Big mistake, because Ruger caught me around the waist and lifted me up onto the kitchen bar, eyes blazing. Two seconds later he stepped in between my legs, one hand pulling me in tight and the other twisting through my hair, jerking my head back.
“Let me go,” I whispered. He cocked his head, as if considering the idea, then slowly shook it.
“I can’t,” he said. Then his lips covered mine and a fuse blew in my brain.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It wasn’t a polite kiss. It wasn’t slow and seductive and deeply meaningful. This was an explosion of pent-up lust … Years’ worth, to be honest. Ruger’s chest was like a concrete wall, and I wrapped my legs around his waist without a thought. His hand tightened in my hair, tilting my head to the side, giving him better access. His tongue was thrust deep and without mercy. The little ball in the center teased me, reminding me that sex with him would be different than anything I’d felt before. His cock pushed into my stomach so hard it almost hurt.
Holy hell, I wished we weren’t wearing so many clothes.
Ruger slid his hand into my tank, pulling his torso back just enough to cup my breast. His fingers found my nipple, tweaking it through the thin silk of my bra as I arched my back, desperate for more. He tore his mouth free, and we stared at each other, panting, mesmerized.
“We decided this is a bad idea,” I reminded him rather desperately, wondering how he’d feel if I just leaned forward and sucked on his lip. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, all dark red and glistening with a sheen of moisture from our kiss. “I’m not drunk today. No excuses.”
“You said you wanted to get laid,” he replied, pupils dark and full. “I’m here. It’s already all screwed up between us, so why not make the most of it? Damage is done, we’re totally fucked. I can’t forget how you tasted the other night, or how you felt on top of me on that couch. I need inside you, Soph.”
Oh, so tempting …
But could I keep messing around with Ruger and still live here? I’d lusted after him forever, and there was no question he wanted me. Then I thought about the woman who’d sat naked in this very kitchen just half an hour ago. The purple panties. The green bra … All in Ruger’s house, which was supposed to be Noah’s refuge.
Sleeping with Ruger was suicide.
I felt like banging my head against something hard, but only his chest was handy and getting closer to that expanse of bare skin was the last thing I needed.
“Bad idea,” I said. His fingers rolled my nipple. His other hand lowered to brace my hips as he rubbed the rigid length of his cock against my clit. That slow back-and-forth would only get better once he slid inside me.
I felt all wound up inside, almost dizzy. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I wanted him in my body.
Except a decent life for Noah.
“If we do this, you can just move along afterward,” I told him, closing my eyes. My sex clenched tight, desperate and empty. I tried to ignore it. “Who you sleep with is nothing to you, Ruger. But I’m different.”
“You’re the one who was talking friends with benefits,” he murmured. “Why’s your story changin’ now? Scared?”
“Hell yes, I’m scared,” I replied, opening my eyes again, searching his face. I saw no mercy or understanding there, just harsh, unyielding lust. “I live with you and I don’t have anywhere else to go. I found three pairs of panties in your couch cushions yesterday, and none of them were the same size. I don’t think I can sleep with you and then nod and smile while a parade of women passes through the house. Sounds like a pretty good reason not to do this.”
“Why the hell were you looking through my couch cushions?” he asked, and his hips stilled.
I’d caught him off guard with that one.
“I cleaned your house,” I replied. “Kind of a surprise-slash-thank-you-present. Your company last night pretty much took care of that, though.”
“Jesus,” he whispered, shaking his head slowly, hips starting to rock again. Oh, that was nice … His cock felt so good rubbing against my most sensitive spot. Could I come from just that, even with the fabric between us? “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t even know they were coming over. Don’t suppose that’s much of an excuse.”
I shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. I looked at his tattoos instead. Most of them were high quality, fanciful designs clearly put together by a true artist. He took his body art seriously, I realized. Ink wasn’t just a whim. I’d bet he had a story for each one, and I wanted to hear those stories far more than was healthy.
Ruger eyed me thoughtfully, rubbing the tip of my nipple with his finger in a slow circle. Then he took my hand and slid it down between us, pressing it against the length of his hard cock, the backs of his own fingers brushing my clit. I gasped and squirmed. My grip tightened, shaping him through the stiff fabric of his jeans. Even through the denim, I could tell he was big and broad, much bigger than my vibrator. Was that hard bump near the tip his …? I didn’t even know what to call it. I wanted to see it—to see all of him—so badly I could’ve died. His knuckles framed my clit and I moaned.
Ruger’s eyes darkened.
“You want this as much as I do,” he said, voice soft. “It’s not goin’ away. We’re just going to burn up higher and higher until one of us explodes and we get hurt. Let’s end it now. I need inside you, Sophie.”
“You needed to be inside your blonde last night,” I replied quietly. “And look how that ended. You going to kick me and Noah out if things get awkward?”
“You’re wrong about that,” he replied.
“About kicking us out? It’s not going to work, us sleeping together and you sleeping around. Some random guy I could just ditch, but I’m stuck with you.”
“Wrong about needin’ to be inside her last night,” he corrected me. “I needed you. You’re all I thought about while I was gone. Went to sleep every night with a stiff dick, woke up harder, didn’t matter how much I jerked off or who I fucked. Riding home from Portland last night, I knew that if I came back into this house all dark and quiet, I’d go downstairs and find you. I’d crawl into your bed and stick my fingers into your pussy and open you up for me whether you wanted it or not. So I tried something else, because we decided we weren’t going to screw around with each other. It didn’t work.”
My hand had started rubbing his dick through the rough fabric. It was hard to focus on his words, between that and his knuckles stroking my clit. They’d found a steady rhythm up and down, and my hips rolled into them ever so slightly, rebelling against all rational thought.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked. “Because when I saw her, I wanted to kill her. And you. I don’t have any right to feel that way.”
“I don’t have any right to put you off limits, either,” he replied. “But I’m doin’ it anyway. No fuckin’ around with anyone at the club. Make that no fuckin’ around, period. You’re mine.”
I lifted my hand and slid it down into his jeans, fingers tracing his naked cock. I found the metal bar piercing his glans—two hard, metal balls capped it, top and bottom. I touched it softly and he groaned.
“Imagine those deep inside you,” he muttered, closing his eyes and as his hips spasmed. “First I’ll rub them against your clit, and then they’ll hit your G-spot the whole damned time I’m riding you. Un-fucking-believable, babe.”
I tightened inside at the thought, nearly undone. I played with them a few seconds longer then moved lower, gripping his shaft firmly. He moaned and I tightened my fingers, almost angry because I wanted him so bad.
Ruger opened his eyes, giving me a lazy smile.
“You trying to hurt me?” he whispered. “Because you’ll never be able to, babe. Squeeze me hard as you like. I get off on it. I’m stronger than you, which means in the end, I’ll win. That’s the way of the world.”
“That’s not fair,” I replied softly. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine. His fingers pulled away from the front of my cutoffs to slip inside. I felt them lower, one on either side of my clit, fluttering and squeezing. His cock pulsed in my hand, hot and hard, the ball brushing lightly against the inside of my wrist.
“Life isn’t fair,” he whispered. “Sometimes you just have to make the most of what you’ve got.”
“Would this be a one-time thing?” I asked, so tempted. Could I do it? Just give in for once, then go back to pretending it never happened?
“No idea,” he replied, voice lowering, growing harsher. “Probably take more than once, gettin’ out from under each other’s skin. I’ve wanted you a long time, Soph. Never forgot how you tasted, not for one single fuckin’ day in the last four years. Jesus, you were sweet.”
My breath caught.
“And after it’s over?”
“We move along,” he replied. “I’ll show you respect, you do the same for me. Won’t bring any women here. Shouldn’t have done it anyway, got beds at the club.”
“But you’ll move on,” I said slowly, feeling something deep inside me tear apart. “And I’ll just be another in your lineup, because that’s what you do. You fuck women, and then you fuck them over.”
“Better than fucking my hand,” he said bluntly. “I’ve never pretended to be somethin’ I’m not, babe. I’m not gonna settle down. I don’t want to commit. I love my life the way it is. Most guys feel the same way—the difference between them and me is I’ll never lie to you about it.”
“That’s why this is such a huge mistake,” I told him, wishing it could be different. I hurt, and not just from frustrated desire. I’d always known this about him, but hearing him say it so bluntly … that got to me. “I should go downstairs right now and we’ll forget it ever happened.”
But my hand kept sliding up and down his cock, reaching up and catching on the metal as I found his pre-come, using it to ease my way back down. His fingers kept moving on my clit, rolling it as a shiver tore through me. My inner muscles clenched and I knew I had to be dripping wet by now.
“We’ll stop soon,” he said, rubbing his nose along mine oh-so-slowly. “Just one more taste.”
Ruger’s lips parted mine again, tongue plunging deep, filling my mouth the way I wanted him to fill my body. It was hard to focus on all the sensations—Ruger’s hungry kiss, his fingers gliding along my clit. His hard cock in my hand, pulsing as those two metal balls taunted me. All of it blended into one big ball of aching, burning need. Then his fingers moved faster and I gave up everything but my own pleasure.
Tension built in me as he pulled his mouth free, tugging up my shirt. The cup of my bra came down and his mouth took my breast, sucking it in deep and hard, flicking the peak with his tongue. The hard metal tormented my nipple, the contrast between solid steel and hot flesh destroying my ability to think. Ruger’s powerful body surrounded me. His fingers played me and I couldn’t do anything but fall back into the incredible intensity of his touch on my clit.
I was close now, panting harshly.
Ruger’s mouth still held my nipple trapped. He caught the other in his fingers, tugging and jerking everything all together. I whimpered, so close I could taste it but needing just a little more to go over the edge. Then he stopped teasing and pushed down against my clit, rough and demanding. My hips convulsed as I came, twisting on the counter shamelessly. Ruger covered my mouth with his once more, kissing me softly as the tremors ran through me, leaving me limp in his arms.
Then he lifted his head, meeting my eyes.
The hunger in his face was intense, more than I’d ever seen on a man. I’d stopped stroking him in the thick of things, but I still held his cock. He’d gotten thicker, and now I pumped his length hard. His fluid coated everything and my fingers slipped across his pierced head as he arched in my hand. We stayed like that, locking gazes, as I worked him faster and faster. After a minute his face darkened and his breath quickened.
Then he reached between us, pushing down his jeans and pulling his cock fully free, hand covering mine. He started jerking our joined hands up and down together, much rougher than I’d do on my own. The heel of my hand caught his pierced head each time, and he growled, primal and hungry.
“Let me fuck you, Sophie,” Ruger gasped, his voice full of pain. I shook my head, closing my eyes because I didn’t want him to see how close I was to giving in.
“No,” I said, almost crying because it hurt so bad to say it. “I’m not going to screw you and then watch you with other women. I can’t do it. I know myself, Ruger. Unless you can tell me right here, right now that you want to seriously try to make something together, I can’t sleep with you. Let me finish this and then it’s over.”
He caught my hand, squeezing it tight around his cock and closed his eyes, shuddering. Then he pulled my hand away with visible pain and twisted it behind my back, jerking my body forward into his, transforming me from lover to prisoner so casually it terrified me.
“There’s no lie here,” Ruger said, voice grating. His face flushed dark red and his chest heaved, eyes burning. Every part of him was rock hard, from his chest crushing my breasts to the naked cock pressed into my belly. “No manipulation between us. It is what it is. But I’ll give you the ride of your life, Soph. That I guarantee.”
“The ride of my life?” I asked, the words hitting me like cold water, breaking through my fog of stupidity.
Holy hell. What was I doing?
I’d lost my fucking mind.
Ruger might be a great uncle, but I couldn’t trust him for shit with my body, let alone my heart.
“Zach already gave me the ride of my life, Ruger,” I said, making every word count. “I learned my lesson from him. Sex is short and it changes everything. That’s something men like you can’t begin to understand.”
He jerked away from me, mouth tight and eyes hard, glaring at me.
“Jesus Christ, you’re a bitch.”
“I’m not a bitch,” I replied, and it took everything I had to keep my voice steady. “I’m a mother. I can’t afford to play games with you, Ruger. You’ll break me, and that will break Noah.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” he muttered, slamming his hand next to me on the counter. I jumped, almost scared as he reached down to tuck himself back into his pants, visibly pained. He refused to step away or allow me any kind of escape, taking my shoulders in his big hands with a jerk.
“Nothin’ is changed,” he said, eyes burning with anger and frustrated need. My breath caught—Ruger had always been scary … But because there’s something wrong with me, seeing him this angry turned me on, too. He leached the common sense right out of my body. “You go to that party, you keep your hands off. That’s a fuckin’ order. No flirtin’, no makin’ out, no touchin’, nothin’. These aren’t Boy Scouts, and they won’t be happy if you start something you don’t plan to finish. You’re off bounds. We clear?”
“Crystal,” I whispered. “I understand you completely.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he muttered, letting me go and stepping back. Finally. I took a deep breath, dizzy with relief. He ran a hand across his hair, glaring a hole through me. “Now get your ass out of my house. Go for a car ride, go shopping, whatever the fuck you want, but don’t come back until you’ve picked Noah up from school. I’ll be gone by then.”
“Where are you going?”
“You seriously think that’s any of your business?” he asked, raising his brows. “Because we aren’t fuck buddies, you aren’t my old lady, and I sure as fuck don’t remember puttin’ you in charge of my life.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. But you don’t get to control me, either, I thought, way too chicken to say it out loud. “And I’m sorry. You aren’t anything like Zach. I know that. But this isn’t just about us, it’s about Noah. He’s not losing another home because we can’t keep our pants on, Ruger.”
“Have I ever done anything—anything—to hurt that child?” he asked.
“I don’t think you’d do it on purpose.”
“Get the fuck out before I change my mind, Sophie. Jesus.”
I got the fuck out.
KIMBER: No fucking way!!!!! Ur fucking with me!!!!!! His dick in ur hand and u still said NO?!??
ME: I wish it was a joke. It happened, tho
KIMBER: Part of me thinks u made a lucky escape … Rest of me thinkgs u shud have fucked him
ME: That would make it all worse. You told me to stay awy from him, rmemember?
KIMBER: Um, it’s worse already, dumbass, u blew it. Ur screwed and there’s no out. Sex is just the symptom. This is about u guys being all twisted up with each other. He wants u way more than I thought
ME: No shit
KIMBER: U are so dens. This morning was gamechanger. Remember—I kno him. He’s not like this with other women. I take back what I said about it being a bad idea. U should have sex. Mite as well get the fun if ur paying the price—it’s already fucked up past the point of no return
ME: Thats the truth. Weirder every day. Harder every time I see him
KIMBER: HARDER!!!!! Love it <-;
ME: Perv
KIMBER: Ur just jealous of my pervy deliciousness. So I think maybe he WANTS u. Like, to keep
ME: Like a pet? I’m not a kitten
KIMBER: I WILL make pussy jokes if u don’t pull your head out of ur ass. Serosly. Think about it
ME: Hate you. Even if he wnats me, he’s stil gonna fuck around. Deal breaker
KIMBER: I know … We need a plan. We also need margaritas. Cures everythng. Come over tonight?
ME: Um, Im meeitng the girls from the club tonite. My place
KIMBER: What time
ME: 7
KIMBER: I’ll bring mix and booze. Make sure u have ice
ME: Um …
KIMBER: Easier if u just give in now Soph. I’m coming over to figure this out. Rugers gonna fuck u sooner or later, so it’s time to decide how to make him play nice. We can talk and then I’ll tell u what to do
ME: I think he’s got dibs on telling me what to do! Bossy asshole
KIMBER: Ha!
ME: Bitch
KIMBER: You love me. See you tonight <3
My eyeballs were going to explode.
Or maybe just pop out of my head?
I’d never tasted anything quite like the flaming shot prepared by my new best friend, Em. I nearly snorted it out my nose, but managed to hold on to token dignity as my throat ignited and my eyes watered. The circle of women around the deck table burst out cackling like a bunch of witches, so I flipped all of them off.
They laughed louder.
My morning encounter with Ruger might’ve been bizarre and tense and frustrating as all hell, but the evening had shaped up nicely. Four lady Reapers had arrived a little after seven—Maggs, Em, Marie, and Dancer. They brought pizza, beer, and a bunch of those tiny bottles of hard liquor, the kind you get on airplanes. I’d been a little overwhelmed at first, trying to keep everyone straight, but by now I’d figured them out.
Maggs was Bolt’s old lady, and he was in prison. She looked very normal for a woman with a man in jail, and not “old” at all. I didn’t think much of this whole “old lady” business, but the Reaper girls seemed to use it with pride. Maggs had shaggy, shoulder-length blonde hair full of wild curls. She was petite and perky and had such an infectious smile you couldn’t help but smile back at her.
I really, really wanted to ask why her man was locked up, but managed to keep my mouth shut for once.
Dancer was tall and elegant, with bronzed skin and long, straight hair. Had to be part Indian, I decided. Coeur d’Alene Tribe? I didn’t want to ask, but it seemed likely, since she’d grown up here. She was married to a guy called Bam Bam, and Horse was her half brother, born right after her mother married his father when she was two years old. Em was young, probably younger than me. She had the most amazing sky-blue eyes with dark rings around the edges of her irises. She was about my height and had brown hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was Picnic’s daughter, whoever he was.
The last of the old ladies was Marie, a short girl with lots of long, brown, wavy hair and a bright, bubbly personality. She was with Horse, which I found hard to picture. He was huge—you’d think he’d break her or something. She wore an unusual engagement ring, a blue stone surrounded by sparkling diamonds. Apparently the wedding was at the end of the month. The big, intense biker I’d met in Seattle hardly seemed like the type to get hitched, but he was obviously ready to sign on the dotted line for Marie.
She made it clear I was invited to the wedding and her bachelorette party, the likes of which would put the Reaper men to shame.
Attendance was not optional.
When they’d rung the front doorbell on arrival, it was the first time I’d come back upstairs to see the ruins of the kitchen and living room. Surprisingly, Ruger had cleaned up quite a bit since that morning. The place didn’t shine like before, but the bottles were gone and he’d put the love seat back on the floor. The women came through the door in a wave, all hugs and smiles and bags of food and drink. I showed them downstairs and introduced them to Noah, who’d spent the afternoon picking wildflowers in honor of our dinner together. My grubby little boy melted them instantly, of course.
“I have a son who’s a year older than you and another who’s a year younger,” Dancer told him. “Maybe you can meet them sometime.”
“Do they have Skylanders?” Noah asked, never shy. “If they have Skylanders, we should play at your house. Otherwise they should come here, because I want to show them the pond.”
“Um, I’ll talk to your mom and get it figured out,” Dancer said.
Noah shrugged and took off outside again. He wasn’t one for wasting time on useless conversation.
The only awkward moment was when Kimber arrived, shortly after I put Noah to bed. She marched down the stairs smiling brightly, but when they saw her, Maggs and Dancer got funny looks on their faces. Whatever they knew about her, Em and Marie clearly weren’t aware of it.
“Hi, I’m Kimber,” my friend said, setting a blender on the counter. She surveyed the room and crossed her arms, planting herself firmly. “Let’s get this over with. I used to work at The Line and I screwed Ruger and a lot of other guys. Mostly customers, but a few from the club. Anything else we need to talk about, or does that about cover it?”
“Holy crap,” Em said, eyes wide. “You make a hell of an entrance.”
“It would’ve been better if I could carry the vodka and mix with me in one trip with the blender,” Kimber replied seriously. “Now—you girls into huckleberry margaritas? I’m kind of a margarita artist, or so I’ve heard. We can hang out and have a great time and drink together if you like. Or you can take turns calling me a whore, which is a lot less fun for all of us, but still doable. Either way, I’m not leaving, so let’s process and move on.”
“You screw Bolt, Horse, or Bam Bam?” Em asked, clearly fascinated. The tension in the air suddenly grew heavy.
Kimber shook her head.
“Nope,” she said. “Don’t even know who Horse is. Met Bolt and Bam Bam a few times, but never got close to them. They’re whipped—at least that’s what I heard.”
“Like the sound of that,” Dancer murmured, a slow smile crossing her lips. “We’ll just skip the whore thing, then?”
The tension broke, and Kimber demonstrated that she was, indeed, something of a margarita artist.
Now it was nearly midnight and we’d progressed past blender drinks. Kimber had been queen of the party girls in high school, and clearly she hadn’t given up her title entirely.
“You have to understand,” she said, her voice grave as we sat in a circle around Ruger’s deck table. “I love being a mom. But I need to get out sometimes, you know? I had no idea their little bodies held so many fluids!”
Dancer started laughing so hard she almost fell out of her chair.
“Know the feeling,” she gasped. “Sometimes it starts spraying out and out and out and you’d think they’d deflate or something!”
I gave Kimber a loud high five, happy she had a kid she loved and even happier mine was mostly past the spraying phase.
“That’s why I’m not having babies anytime soon,” Em declared. “Lose your freedom and your mind, apparently. You’re pathetic, all of you.”
“Gotta have sex first to have a kid,” Marie said, waggling her eyebrows dramatically as she poked Em’s shoulder. “I keep telling you, we need to just go out and get you laid. Get it over with, punch that V-card.”
“If I get ten punches, do I get a free pizza?” Em asked her. “Seriously, I don’t know why I’m waiting at this point.”
“Well, don’t bother waiting for Painter,” Maggs said, rolling her eyes. “He’s had his full patch for three months now. He hasn’t manned up yet, it’s not gonna happen.”
Em frowned.
“It’s not like that,” she said, shaking her head. “I was into him, okay? Liked him a lot, actually. But he blew it. He cares more about not pissing off my dad than being with me.”
“To be fair, your dad has a bit of a reputation,” Dancer said, her voice dry. “He shot your last boyfriend. Thinking about that’s gotta mess with a man’s head.”
I looked at Em with new interest, trying to remember who her dad was. Oh, yeah. Her dad was Picnic. Picnic? What kind of name was that? Almost as weird as Horse …
“What the hell is up with all these names?” I demanded abruptly, swaying in my seat. They all looked at me blankly. “Picnic? Bam Bam? Horse?!? Who names their baby Horse? And what the hell is Ruger all about? His name is Jesse, for God’s sake. I met his mom and she told me.”
They all burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, feeling put out. It was a serious question.
“You thought they were real names!” Marie asked, losing it again. “It’s funny because I know exactly how you feel. I asked the same question. Horse is a fucking ridiculous name, isn’t it?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Is that a trick question? I don’t want to insult the guy you’re marrying. Also, he’s scary. He has a metal bat and likes to carry around duct tape. All he needs is black plastic garbage bags and he could be a serial killer.”
I leaned forward and jabbed a finger to make my point.
“I know these things. I watch TV.”
Marie snorted so hard margarita came out her nose.
“Horse’s real name is Marcus,” Dancer said, giggling and rolling her eyes. “He’s my brother, by the way. Horse is just his road name—like a nickname, you know? Most of the guys have ’em. Girls, too. Dancer’s my road name.”
“What’s your real name?”
“No comment,” Dancer replied primly.
“Agrippina,” Em declared proudly. “I shit you not.”
Dancer blew a stream of frozen margarita at Em through her straw.
“Traitorous bitch.”
“Are you fucking with us?” Kimber asked, looking between them. “Agrippina? After Agrippina the Younger or Agrippina the Elder?”
We all looked at her blankly.
“Mom had a thing for Roman history,” Dancer said after a pause. I shook my head, trying to follow the conversation. The drinks weren’t helping. Oh, yeah. Road names.
“So why is he called Horse?” I asked. Marie blushed bright red and looked away.
“Ha!” Dancer said, smacking the table for emphasis. “Horse says he’s called that because he’s hung like one. But I know the real reason. When he was a kid—like three, four years old maybe?—he used to carry around this little stuffed horsie all the time, slept with it and everything. One day he and I got in a fight and he started hitting me with it, over and over again. Mom took it away from him and gave it to me. He started following me around crying, ‘Horsie, Horsie,’ all the time, and it stuck.”
Marie’s eyes opened wide.
“Are you fucking serious?” she asked. Dancer nodded, her face full of the kind of evil glee only an older sister can express. “Holy shit, that’s hysterical.”
“His dad insisted it was because he had a big dick, right to the day he died,” she continued. “But I swear to you—it’s because of that stuffed animal of his. Don’t let him fool you.”
“Did you ever give it back to him?” Em asked breathlessly. Dancer shook her head.
“I still have it,” she declared. “And I promise you this, Marie. The day you marry his stupid ass, I’ll give it to you. That’ll keep him in his place.”
We all lost it again. Kimber poured another round of margaritas from the king-sized pitcher she’d found in Ruger’s kitchen. This party wasn’t ending anytime soon.
“So are all the names like that?” I asked when I could speak. “I mean, shouldn’t bikers have cool names, like Killer or Shark or Thor’s Revenge?”
“Thor’s Revenge?” Maggs asked, raising a brow. “Are you serious?”
“That’s just silly,” Em broke in. “Road names stick because something happens to make ’em stick. You know, a funny story or something stupid someone does. You earn them—just like any nickname.”
“Emmy Lou Who, for example,” Dancer said, blinking innocently. Em’s eyes narrowed.
“Shut the fuck up, Agrippina.”
“Seriously, they also serve a purpose,” Maggs said. “If people don’t know your real name, makes it harder for them to rat you out to the cops.”
“So what’s ‘Ruger’ all about?” I asked. “He’s been called that forever.”
“I have no idea,” Dancer said, frowning. “You’ll have to ask him—Ruger is a gun brand, that might be it. Picnic got his because he threw a guy through a picnic table.”
“Speaking of …” Marie said. “We haven’t finished talking about Em’s situation. You need to get your dad to back off, babe. Nobody will date you so long as he keeps shooting your boyfriends.”
“He didn’t shoot him because he was dating me,” Em snapped. “It was a hunting accident and he’s fine. The fact that he was cheating on me is a total coincidence.”
The women burst out laughing again, while Kimber and I stared.
“Go ahead and keep telling yourself that,” Dancer murmured.
I made a mental note to learn this story as soon as possible.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Em declared. She looked around the table, searching for a new victim. Her eyes reached me, filling with sudden, unholy glee. “Like … hmmm … So tell us, Sophie. What’s the scoop with you and Ruger? You guys fucking or what?”
Everyone—even Kimber—looked at me. Kimber stared, silently urging me to speak. I kept my mouth shut and shook my head.
