Текст книги "Reapers and Bastards: A Reapers MC Anthology"
Автор книги: Joanna Wylde
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 8 страниц)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Many of my books feature characters cooking, which leads to readers requesting copies of my recipes. Huckleberries grow wild in the Silver Valley and are a big part of the culture. They’re hard to find and take forever to pick, so a huckleberry pie is considered a rare and special treat. This recipe is from my book Silver Bastard. FYI—I’m not always exact with my measurements when I cook, so consider yourself warned.
Becca’s Huckleberry Pie Recipe
Ingredients
1 double pie crust (either made at home or purchased at the store) 3-4 cups huckleberries (or a mix of huckleberries and blueberries if you’re a little short)
4 tablespoons of instant tapioca
½ to ¾ cup sugar (approximate—don’t be afraid to increase or decrease based on your personal preferences as you mix the filling) 2-3 tablespoons fresh orange juice 1 egg white
1 tablespoon cold water
Vanilla ice cream
Instructions
Pre-heat oven to 400 F.
Put ¾ cup huckleberries, sugar and orange juice in a sauce pan. Heat until the sugar melts and the berries start to burst, creating a sauce. While this cools slightly, combine remaining berries in a bowl with instant tapioca and mix gently with a spoon. Slowly fold in the warm berry mix.
Pour berry mixture into crust, then cover with second layer of crust. Crimp edges and cut several holes or slices in the top of the pie to allow steam to escape. Mix egg white with cold water and brush across the top of the crust. Place pie on sheet and bake for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 375 and bake until crust is golden brown (approx. 50 minutes, give or take).
Allow pie enough cooling time to set up, then serve warm with vanilla ice cream.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is one of the first scenes from Reaper’s Property, told from an alternative point of view. It is appropriate for readers who haven’t already read the book, and was originally published on my website.
Sticky Sweet
HORSE
“I’m so sick of this shit.”
I pulled the nozzle out of my bike’s gas tank and wiped off my forehead, rubbing my hand dry against my faded jeans. My black leather vest concentrated the heat on my back, and the thought of cramming my head back into my oven of a helmet pissed me off. It’d been a long, hot ride, and the weather in this shithole of a town wasn’t helping my mood. “Fuckin’ excuses, every time I talk to him.”
“Yeah,” Picnic said, glancing toward the convenience store behind the pumps. Max was inside grabbing something to drink. “I hear you. You think Jensen will admit he fucked up or keep up the lies?”
I glanced at him and shrugged, sick of the situation. Why had the Reapers gotten into business with Jeff Jensen, anyway? The guy might be a genius when it came to getting money out of the country, but he was still a fuckin’ stoner. Couldn’t trust them for shit.
No follow-through.
“He doesn’t have a good reason for this latest mess, then I’m about done with the asshole,” I muttered, running the numbers through my head. Jeff had made our motorcycle club a shitload of money, but the constant babysitting . . . I wasn’t sure it was worth it anymore. Should’ve kicked him out on his ass when he first came to us with his little business proposal. “Goddamn, it’s hot out here. Why the fuck would anyone choose to live in eastern Washington, anyway?”
Picnic raised a brow.
“I thought he was some kind of idiot savant, a ‘valuable asset’?” he asked lightly. “You told us all about it yesterday. What’s the matter, sun got you all grumpy? You need a cool bath, maybe a Midol to soothe your temper, sweetheart?”
I narrowed my eyes at my club president, then felt a rueful grin tugging at my lips. Pic was right. Reapers didn’t whine like little bitches—I needed to grab sack and deal.
“You’re a dick,” I said. Picnic grinned back at me.
“Ya think?”
“Hey, you ladies ready?” Max yelled, walking out of the store. He stopped next to the bikes, handing over bottles of cold water. “Or do we need some more time to discuss the issue? Because I’m sick of talking about this guy. We should teach him not to fuck with us, so we don’t have to keep making trips like this.”
I ignored Max, dropping my head to one side, stretching out my neck. I wondered if we’d made the right call, bringing a third man along. Max had volunteered, but he had a short temper, and Jensen needed careful management. On the other hand, maybe he was right—a good scare might catch the little fucker’s attention, help him focus.
“Let’s go,” Pic said. I swung a leg over my bike and kicked it to life. Might as well get it over with.
As we rolled down the long, tree-lined driveway toward Jensen’s little shack, I saw an unfamiliar car parked outside. Not Jeff’s Firebird, but some little plastic hatchback thingie. I glanced over at the trailer, seeing a picnic table in the yard. A chick sat up slowly on top of it.
A fuckin’ hot chick.
Trip might not be a total suckfest after all.
The woman watched as we pulled up with a roar, her eyes wide, long dark hair tangled around her face, and tits all but popping out of the microscopic red bikini top she wore. She was small, smaller than my usual type, but she had all the right curves. Her legs were spread, her cutoffs were short and they gaped enough that I could tell she wore something red underneath. The rest of the bikini? Matching panties? G-string? Now that would be real nice . . .
My dick sat up and suggested we investigate.
I’d never been one to ignore my dick.
Glancing over at Pic, I jerked my head toward the girl, silently claiming her. Pic smirked at me, but he shrugged, agreeing. I didn’t bother looking at Max. Brother might want in on the action, but he was still probationary, so he could wait the fuck in line for the next available bitch.
Even as a kid, I hadn’t liked sharing my toys.
We pulled up next to the car and turned off the bikes. The sound of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me” blew out of the hatchback’s windows and I exchanged another quick glance with Picnic, who rolled his eyes. I jerked my chin, a silent fuck you at the older man. Pic wasn’t happy unless he was busting someone’s balls, and I wasn’t in the mood. Although, I had to admit, it was kind of funny. If I didn’t know for a fact Jensen was clueless about our visit, I’d call it a setup. I almost expected a second chick to jump out and start spraying her with a hose, straight out of a goddamn video or something. Best of the ’80s, Trailer Edition Live.
But the genuine panic on the girl’s face said that if Jeff had left her as some sort of peace offering, he hadn’t bothered giving her a heads-up first.
I swung a leg over my bike and strolled toward her, eyes trailing across that sweet little body. Yeah, definitely for me—this one was the stuff of wet dreams. Should I fuck her now or after I ripped Jensen a new asshole? I couldn’t decide . . . Maybe both. She might not be tall, but those legs were plenty long enough to wrap around my waist. Babe was seriously fine, and I felt my jeans tighten as I closed in on her. My nose flared, taking in her scent.
Damn.
I stopped next to the table, mesmerized and horny as hell. The temperature outside didn’t bother me anymore. Neither did the long ride—not with something like this waiting at the end of it. She took deep breaths, chest rising and falling rapidly, and it almost pushed me over the edge. I counted to ten, willing myself not to just grab her and push her down across the table, despite the fact that my cock was 100 percent certain it was the only reasonable course of action. My brain disagreed, and reluctantly I told my cock to shut up.
I wanted to fuck her, not give her a heart attack.
But I needed a little taste.
Just one.
Holding her gaze, I reached out with a finger and traced her collarbone from her shoulder inward, then slid it down between her breasts, grazing her cleavage. I couldn’t help myself. She quivered like a deer hit by headlights as I raised the finger to my mouth, tasting her.
Sun and sweat and sweet, ripe woman.
I held back a shudder, and realized I could probably pound nails with my dick. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this turned on. I’d lost my virginity freshman year in high school to a senior with a taste for younger men. Had I wanted to screw her as bad as this? I wasn’t entirely sure, that’s how hot Jensen’s girl was.
How did such an asshole loser attract a woman like this?
She swallowed nervously and her nipples hardened under their pretty little triangles of fabric. My cock informed me urgently that we really, really needed to be inside her tight little cunt sooner rather than later.
Fuckin’ amazing.
Then I saw the bruise. It was old and clearly fading, but someone had backhanded her across the cheek. My breath hissed, and for a second I felt fierce red rage sweep through me, strong enough to override my lust. What could a little thing like her do to possibly justify a man smacking her around? Did Jensen hit her? I clenched my jaw, considering different ways to kill the man. But it was faded, and she hadn’t been here last time. Might not be Jensen. Anyone could’ve marked her . . . Regardless, whoever was behind the bruise should pay.
Fuckin’ crime against nature, smacking around a face like that.
I considered taking her back to Coeur d’Alene for a while—even if he hadn’t hit her, Jensen sure as shit wouldn’t be able to keep a piece of ass like this satisfied. I’d bet my last dollar on it. Nothing like weed to make a man’s dick limp.
I shifted forward into her space, enjoying the way she backed away ever so slightly. Yeah, that was nice. This one wouldn’t just roll over for me, and I liked that.
Nothing like a chase to make the kill more satisfying.
“Hey, sweet butt,” I said, keeping my voice low and soft. Might as well find out whether she knew jack about bikers. She sure looked like a club whore. I didn’t much like the idea of her having been passed around, but if she already knew the rules, it would make life easier. She scrambled backward off the table, and I decided she was probably clueless. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that . . . Not an actual club whore, then, which was okay by me. I’d never been a huge fan of used pussy and I already knew I wanted to taste hers. On the other hand, I’d probably have to ease her into things if she didn’t know the score.
Fuckin’ shame, because I was ready to go.
The girl stood awkwardly, putting the table between us and biting her lip. Small white teeth, ripe red flesh . . . I wanted to suck that lip in, then fuck her mouth with my tongue. No, just fuck her mouth, period. Shit, at this rate I’d blow the fly right off my jeans.
Business first.
I needed to cool off or I’d break her in half when I screwed her. Maybe I should jack off ahead of time? Take off the edge . . . not a bad idea. Her tongue darted, wetting those bright, juicy lips, and I held back a groan.
“Your man here?” I asked, forcing myself to focus. “We need to talk.”
A look of confusion crossed her face. The music shut down abruptly. Her eyes darted back behind me, widening as she saw Pic pulling her keys out of the ignition. Then I heard the crunch of gravel as my brothers started toward us, and the confusion on her face shifted back toward panic.
“You mean Jeff? He’s in town,” she said, paling. She stepped back, putting more space between us, looking toward my fellow Reapers again. “Why don’t you wait out here while I call him?”
I studied her, wondering if she was telling the truth. Jensen was just pussy enough to hide behind a woman. Then her eyes drifted down across my cut, like she couldn’t help herself. Her gaze felt like fingers against my skin as she checked out my patches, and any lingering doubt I’d had about whether she knew bikers disappeared. She had no clue what it meant when a man put on a cut. I’d definitely have to educate her about my world.
“Sure thing, babe,” I said, swinging a leg over the bench to straddle it. She backed away slowly but steadily as Pic and Max joined me.
“How about a drink, girl?” Picnic asked. She nodded and turned toward the trailer, ass twitching as she walked away. Nice view. Max gave a dirty laugh, clearly enjoying the show, and I had to restrain myself from hitting the man.
Asshole should leave my girl alone.
My girl? What the fuck? I didn’t have girls. I fucked them and moved on, because life was too damned short to deal with their bullshit. Sure, I was considering leaving with her on the back of my bike, but it wasn’t like I’d be keeping her. I just wanted enough time to fuck her out of my system. Where had that thought come from?
“Where do you think Jensen found a bitch like that?” Max asked, and while I’d considered the same question earlier, I didn’t like hearing Max call her a bitch. In fact, I didn’t want Max calling her anything. I’d never been Max’s biggest fan.
“Small town girls,” Picnic said. “Not exactly a lot of options. Still, she’s too pretty to be scraping bottom. You think he’s in there pissing his pants while he hides under the bed?”
I glanced over to the trailer and caught a hint of movement at the window. She peeked through the curtains at me, cell against her ear, looking small and vulnerable. That vulnerability called to me and I licked my lips.
“No, she’s making a phone call,” I said. “He’s not here. I wonder if he’ll make a run for it?”
“You think he’d leave her to us?” Max asked, sounding a little too eager. “Hot piece like that should be on her back. Lookin’ forward to that.”
“Shut it down,” Pic said sharply. “She’s with Horse now.”
“I want her when you’re done,” Max said, looking at me.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped, and Max laughed.
“Cockblocker.”
“Seriously, Max, shut the fuck up,” Picnic replied, his voice like ice.
Silence fell over the table. Then the door to the trailer opened and the woman came out. She held a tall, purple plastic cup in one hand, a smaller cup with a spoon in it in the other, and two more purple cups held against her chest with her arm. She’d changed into a faded T-shirt that had to be at least an extra-large and a pair of those half pants chicks like, the ones that go below the knee. Fuckin’ shame, because those curves shouldn’t be covered. On the other hand, anything that kept Max’s eyes off her was probably a good thing.
“You call your man?” I asked. For reasons I didn’t care to examine, figuring out her relationship with Jeff-hole had turned into a high priority.
“My man?” she asked, looking confused.
“Jensen.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, thoughts passing behind her eyes too fast for me to read.
“Girlie, answer the fuckin’ question,” Picnic commanded, voice like a whip. She jumped, splashing whatever was in the cup across her breast. Her nipple beaded up from the cold and I forgot to breathe. I shifted on the bench, rethinking my decision to wait.
“Jeff’s coming,” she said. I could just lean forward and catch that nipple in my mouth . . . Back off. She was terrified, scaring her more wouldn’t move things any faster. I knew how it would end, with her spread under me, screaming when she came. But how long it took to get her there? Lotta ways that could play out. “He said he’d be here in twenty minutes. I’ve got tea for you.”
She stood in front of me, taunting me as she licked her lips nervously. I reached out and took one of the cups. She used the newly free hand to take the smaller cup and glanced toward the table. I smiled. She’d have to lean right across me to set it down. I decided to help her out, reaching over and wrapping my fingers around one of the two cups still clutched against her chest. My fingers grazed her nipple once, twice, and then I took the last cup—the small one, which was full of sugar—and set it on the table.
Our eyes stayed locked as I grasped her hand and pulled her into me, up against my thigh so her stomach almost touched my face. I could smell her, and it took everything I had not to nuzzle her belly. But I needed to know her relationship with Jensen, figure out who had marked her. So instead of pulling her against my mouth, I took her chin and turned it, exposing the bruise fully. I waited for her to say something, but she kept her mouth shut.
Interesting. Was she covering for Jeff?
I dropped my hand back down to her waist, rubbing it up and down the curve of her hip. Those curves were fuckin’ perfect, but the way she trembled went straight to my gut. I thought about Jensen, thought about that little fuck touching her soft skin, sucking on those lips . . .
Smacking that pretty face.
Nope, this shit wouldn’t stand. Not today.
“Jensen do that to you?”
Her eyes widened and her face flushed.
“No, he’d never do that. Jeff’s my brother,” she said, jerking free. She turned and ran into the trailer, slamming the door behind her.
“Well, that was interesting,” Picnic said. Max chuckled.
I glared at them, then something caught my eye. At the end of the table was a tray with a kitchen towel over it. Two long round lumps lay under it. I leaned over and picked up the towel to find two loaves of unbaked bread rising.
Fuck.
Not only was my girl hot as hell, she could cook, too.
Jensen showed up not long afterward, full of excuses and bullshit.
“Hey, guys, great to see you!” he called as he slammed his car door shut. “I’ll bet you’re here because of that botched transfer. No worries, Horse, I got it fixed. You can check it on my laptop. I just ran the numbers wrong the first time. No problem.”
I stood, crossing my arms as I stared him down.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I lost it,” Jeff replied, rubbing his hands against his pants nervously as he glanced between the three Reapers. “But I found it again. See?”
He pulled it out of his pocket and showed us. I looked to Picnic, who sighed.
“We’re gonna lay this out for you, okay?” the club president said. “You fucked up big-time. I don’t know if you stole the money and paid it back or if you’re just stupid. Either way, it can’t happen again. I’m about ready to pull the plug on this little operation, which means pulling the plug on you, stoner boy.”
I grunted, seconding his words. Jeff’s eyes jerked between us, then settled as he smiled at me again, like we were friends. Fucker had a serious case of reality disconnect.
“No problem,” he said. “Let’s go inside, I’ll show you the figures. Pull ’em up for you, see for yourself. Marie will make dinner, she’s a fuckin’ great cook. You’ll love it.”
So her name was Marie. I liked that—it fit her. Sort of old-fashioned but sexy at the same time. I almost smiled, but caught myself. I had a part to play in this little show, and it didn’t include looking friendly.
“Let’s take a look,” I said to Picnic. “Figure it out tonight, save us having to drive back down here to kill him if he’s lying.”
“Works for me,” Pic replied. “I’m hungry. Hey, Jensen—shooting assholes gives me heartburn. Don’t fuck this up, ’kay?”
Jeff’s face faltered, but he laughed nervously and chattered as he led us into the trailer. Me and Picnic exchanged a knowing look behind his back. I hoped to hell I wouldn’t have to kick the shit out of our helpful little hacker. Beating down her brother probably wouldn’t be the smoothest way to get into Marie’s pants.
The trailer smelled like heaven.
Marinara bubbled on the stove, and while the little window air-conditioning units kept the place cool, the oven sent out homey warmth. Marie stood in the open kitchen, frowning at us as we walked in.
“Sis, my associates are going to stay for dinner,” Jeff told her. “You better go get your bread—I think it’s done rising. You guys are gonna love this, Marie’s bread is amazing. She’ll fix you a fuckin’ great dinner.”
Marie gave her brother a tight, fixed little smile, eyes shooting daggers at him. I had to bite back a laugh—she obviously wanted us gone in a big way. For a minute I thought she might refuse, but then she broke her gaze, murmuring something as she brushed past us to go outside. I couldn’t decide if that disappointed me or not. The food smelled great and I hadn’t even realized how hungry I’d gotten.
But she should really tell her brother to fuck off—maybe tip that pot of spaghetti sauce over his head or something.
Jeff flicked on his giant-ass TV to mixed martial arts, another layer of bullshit in my opinion. Apparently he could afford a TV the size of a car but he couldn’t afford to upgrade to a place fit for his sister to live in.
I shook my head and took a seat in front of the kitchen bar, which separated the cooking area from the living room in the tiny trailer. Leaning back against the wall, I crossed my arms to watch Marie come back inside with the tray of bread, quiet as a mouse. Had the guy who’d hit her broken her spirit? I liked a woman to follow my lead, but a girl without at least a little fight wouldn’t be much fun in the sack.
“Grab us some beers, sweet butt,” Max called from the couch. I watched as she stilled, biting her lip. I could almost read her thoughts—she wanted to take one of those beer bottles and break it over Max’s head. I kinda wanted to see that myself. Instead, she set down the tray on the counter and turned to the fridge, pulling out four drinks and handing them around.
I sighed. Too bad, would’ve been fun to watch her take Max down. Not that he’d let her go too far with it, but hell . . . bastard could use a bottle over the head.
Marie ignored me as I opened my beer, turning back to put the bread in the oven and then grabbing some shit for a salad. Big fuckin’ surprise, watching her cook turned me on. Her clothes looked like hell, but I knew what was underneath and every movement was graceful and feminine. Then she grabbed another beer, popped the top like a pro, and took a deep swig, mouth wrapped tight around the length of the bottle’s neck.
I seriously considered vaulting the counter.
Instead, I sat, nursing my drink and counting all the different ways I’d do her before this ended. Over the bar, for sure, from behind. Maybe against the wall. Definitely in the shower and maybe even on my bike. Bed? Why the hell not, some of those missionaries were pretty damn smart. I’d fuck her face, too, and maybe even her ass.
My dick added its vote in favor of that plan and I shifted restlessly.
Goddamn jeans weren’t helping the situation.
When Marie pulled the bread out of the oven, the smell almost killed me. Five minutes later she had salad, pasta, and the works laid out on the counter, along with plates.
“Dinner,” she said shortly, stepping back as the guys stood and grabbed the food.
The meal blew me away, tasting even better than it smelled. The bread was savory and rich, with a hint of garlic and herbs and something else I couldn’t identify. The sauce was chunky and tangy and full of fresh tomatoes with big spicy meatballs. Even the salad was fantastic, and totally different. It had the usual greens, but it also had nuts and fruit and some kind of fancy cheese.
“This is amazing,” Picnic told Marie as he filled his plate a second time, voice full of genuine admiration. “You can really cook. My old lady used to cook like this.”
That caught my attention. Pic didn’t talk about Heather much, and never to strangers. She’d been dead for years, but it could’ve been yesterday so far as Pic was concerned. He’d given Marie a serious compliment.
She flushed prettily, and murmured, “Thanks.”
I held back a frown. I didn’t like her blushing and murmuring at another guy.
Fuckin’ Picnic.
The food was gone all too soon, though I’d definitely gotten my fill. Hell, I should bring her back to Coeur d’Alene just to cook—woman had a gift. Picnic caught my eye and jerked his head toward Marie. I sighed.
Time to check out Jeff’s story and then scare the crap out of him.
I was ready to finish this particular game. I’d joined the club for the freedom and the fun, and now I found myself managing some hacker asshat like a goddamn human resources officer. Bullshit all around. Might as well get a job down at city hall, buy a suit, and trade my bike for a minivan.
“You might want to go for a drive,” I told Marie, wishing it didn’t need to happen. I’d wait for her to get back, but still . . . lotta ways for things to go wrong under the circumstances. “We’ve got business.”
“Do you mind, sis?” Jeff asked. She shook her head, looking almost wistful. Then she pulled herself together and smiled at us—that same bright, fake smile she’d given earlier—as she went to the door and grabbed her purse.
“Well, nice to meet all of you, um . . .”
Picnic stood and offered a wolfish grin. I didn’t care for that one bit—I’d have words with him later.
“I’m Picnic, and these are my brothers, Horse and Max.”
Marie looked at me, her expression puzzled. I raised a brow, waiting to see what she’d do next. Ask about my name, maybe? Nope, she was chickening out.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Picnic,” she said.
“Just Picnic. Thanks again for the food.”
There was that admiring tone in his president’s voice again. Time to shut it down.
“I’ll walk you out to your car,” I said, voice firm. Pic gave me a knowing look and I realized the man had been fucking with me.
Again.
Asshole.
“Take your time, we can wait,” Pic said, pulling Marie’s car keys from his pocket and tossing them to her. She stepped out of the trailer, me right behind her. The door slammed shut, the warm evening air surrounded us, and I felt myself relax. Dealing with Jensen was a pain in the ass, but it would be worth it because I planned on having a hell of a good time with his sister before I was finished.
I snagged her hand, pulling her toward the table, turning and tucking my hands under her arms to pop her onto the end. She stared up at me, blinking rapidly as I slid my hands down her sides, wedging them between her legs and pushing her knees gently apart. Then I leaned into her, inhaling her scent once more.
Marie smelled even better now than before, with a hint of fresh bread added into the mix. I gave serious thought to biting her shoulder, just to see if she tasted half as good as that scent of hers suggested.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said, her voice quavering. She pulled away from me, glancing toward the trailer. “I mean, everyone is waiting for you, right? I can just go, let’s forget this, okay?”
I leaned back, studying her, wishing I felt half as unaffected as she seemed to be. If she didn’t want me touching her, why would she let me hold her like this? This tension between us was incredible. It couldn’t only be on my side. Could it?
The fading evening light caught on her bruise.
Fuck.
Maybe her spirit really was totally broken. I decided to poke at her and test whether she’d fight back, even a little.
“That how you gonna play it, sweet butt?” I asked, deliberately taunting her. Her eyes narrowed and flashed. Sexy as hell.
“I’m not your sweet butt,” she snapped. “Fuck off.”
Now that was more like it—my girl hadn’t checked out entirely after all. I laughed, loving the spark in her and wanting to see more of it. That wasn’t all I wanted, though. I grabbed her waist and pulled her into my body. The hot, welcoming softness of her pussy hit my cock and it felt better than I’d imagined, which was saying something. I closed my eyes for a second, swiveling my hips and dragging my length up and down across her clit through the fabric of our pants, all but tasting the moment I’d sink into her sweet opening.
It was official.
Marie was the hottest piece of ass I’d ever met.
She gasped as I slid my dick against her again, more forcefully this time. I leaned down into her and blew softly on her ear, thinking about kissing her. Then I thought about that spark of anger in her eyes—I wanted to see it again. Marie soft and willing beneath me was great, but Marie telling me to fuck off, all cute and pissy?
Now that really turned me on.
“Nice ass. Sweet. Butt,” I whispered softly.
She bit me.
Hard.
I jumped back, ripping my ear out of her mouth, wondering if she’d taken a chunk with her. Holy shit—she bit me. A trickle of warm fluid ran down my neck. Blood. I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing because she was tiny and angry and hissing at me like a wet cat on top of the table. I wanted to fuck her more now than I had five minutes ago. Damn, though . . . my ear hurt. That wasn’t a love bite.
Who was this woman?
Marie scowled, her message coming through loud and clear.
“I get it, hands off,” I said, shaking my head, holding up my arms in pointed surrender. My dick might not be amused by this turn of events, but for once I didn’t give a flying fuck what my dick wanted. I was having way too much fun. “Play it the way you like. And you’re right, we’ve got business. Go drive for an hour, that should be enough time.”
Marie slid off the table, darting around me as she ran to her little piece-of-shit car. I followed, bemused, wondering if she had some magic power that turned grown men into pussies. Marie opened her car door but turned back to look at me, teeth worrying at her lip. I waited for whatever the hell would come out of her mouth. After that bite, I was on uncharted ground. At least it wasn’t boring.
“Horse isn’t your real name, is it?”
I smiled. Now that was better . . . Playtime wasn’t over yet, after all.
“Road name,” I replied. “That’s the way things work in my world. Citizens have names. We have road names.”
“What does that mean?”
“People give them to you when you start riding. They can mean all kinds of things. Picnic got his name because he went all out planning some pansy-assed picnic for a bitch who had him twisted up in knots. She ate his food and drank his booze, then called her fuckwad boyfriend to come and pick her up while he took a leak.”
She frowned.
“That seems . . . unpleasant. Why would he want to remember that?”
“Because when the fuckwad showed up, Picnic shoved his head through a picnic table.”
Her breath caught and I saw indecision written all over her face.
“And Max?”
“When he gets drunk, sometimes his eyes go all wide and he looks fuckin’ crazy, like Mad Max.”
“I see,” she said, glancing toward the trailer. I waited, but she kept her mouth closed. Smart girl. I’d be damned if I’d let her off the hook that easy, though.
