Текст книги "Reaper's Property"

Автор книги: Joanna Wylde

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Eight

Sept. 7

Me: Are you there?

Sept. 9

Me: Horse, we should talk. I don’t want us to hate each other. I think we made a mistake, please call me. I miss you. Let’s fix this

Sept 10

Me: Are you even getting these? Please, even if you hate me, call me. I need to tell you something

Sept. 13

Me: Okay, you win. Bye

Sept. 15

Things got a little dark after our trip to the hot springs.

Work was okay, but it wasn’t like I loved what I was doing. Don’t get me wrong, the kids were awesome, but it’s tiring to be surrounded by little people constantly when they can’t even wipe their own rear ends. And sometimes diapers blow out, which means exactly what you’d think.

Good times.

Life with Jeff wasn’t going very well either. It’s not like we didn’t get along, because we did. We didn’t fight or anything. But he’d stopped talking to me, didn’t seem to work much and smoked more pot every day. I had my first hint of real trouble coming when he asked me how big my paycheck was. By this time I was buying all the food, which I didn’t mind. After all, he’d floated me when I first got here, and when I’d gotten hurt too. But it wasn’t like him to mooch, believe it or not. He’d always paid his way and I’m pretty sure he’d carried Mom a time or two.

Things came to a head right after the Reapers visited us again, this time without Horse. Jeff didn’t warn me and it was hard to tell whether the visit was planned or not. I’d learned my lesson—don’t ask questions unless you want to hear the answers. Honestly, I didn’t think there were any good answers to the questions I had about their business relationship.

I came home from work to find bikes in the driveway. Horse’s wasn’t there. We were totally out of food and beer because I hadn’t done my grocery shopping for the week, and I sighed in frustration. I decided to go and buy pizza instead of cooking because I had a little extra cash. I just didn’t feel up to whipping something together.

I walked in to find Picnic, Bam Bam, Max and Jeff standing around the kitchen bar in tense silence.

“Um, hi?” I asked, setting down my purse.

“Hey, Marie,” Picnic said, and while his voice wasn’t friendly, it wasn’t cold either. I guess Horse didn’t go home and talk too much shit about me. “Just talking some business here.”

“Yeah, I see that,” I replied. “How ’bout I go and grab some pizzas? Sound good?”

“Sounds great, Marie,” Bam Bam said. He reached around to his wallet, pulling out some bills and offering them to me. I was stunned.

“You don’t have to do that,” I murmured.

“Take the money and don’t forget beer,” Picnic said, his voice short. Arguing with them didn’t seem like a good idea, so I grabbed the bills and retreated. I took my sweet time getting the pizzas. I really, really didn’t want to come back home too early, but after hanging out at the takeout place for forty-five minutes I got a text from Jeff telling me all was clear. I grabbed the pies and drove home, hoping Jeff’s weirdness lately wasn’t connected to the Reapers. I kept hearing Horse’s voice in my head.

Fuck with us and we will fuck you back.

Jeff wouldn’t be that stupid, would he?

When I got back, I had another of those surreal moments that seemed to happen around the Reapers with alarming frequency. Earlier I would have sworn things were ugly between them and Jeff. Now everyone was friendly—practically jolly—and they welcomed me (or rather, the pizzas I carried) with the kind of cheer usually reserved for returning war heroes. I tried to give Bam Bam his change, but he wouldn’t take it, telling me to use it for gas.

The evening followed a familiar pattern. We ate together and then they sat around drinking beer while I cleaned up. As the night went on, the jokes got dirtier. I drank several beers. They built a bonfire. Someone suggested tequila shots. I don’t usually do shots, but it seemed like a fantastic idea when viewed through my beer goggles. But I’d been up since early that morning and I had to be up again at seven to get ready for work, so eventually I decided to hit the sack.

I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the guys outside and how Horse should be with them. Then I thought about how it felt when he held me in those strong arms of his and we slept together, all warm and safe. That made me sad, and this was where things got ugly.

“They” always say you shouldn’t drink and text, whoever they are.

I should have listened to them. They’re pretty smart.

Me: Horse, muss yu

Me: Why dont anser?

Me: Horse like yur name. Horsey. I’d like to rid u horsey, LOL. You sleeping? Or busy with someone?

Me: I know yur there. I bet you got a new gurl alredy. Screw you.

Me: Screw you and your slut. I hate you. Take yur club and shove it up yur ass I wudn’t be yoor old lady for ten milion dollrs.

To say I was hung over when my alarm went off at seven that morning would be a bit of an understatement. I discovered the messages I’d sent between barf two and barf three, and then that particularly nasty one after barf three. I wanted to crawl under the trailer and die, I was so embarrassed. Through the force of extreme will, I managed to get myself to work on time. Fortunately the head count was low for the day, so the kids weren’t too loud and crazy. I kept thinking about those messages, trying to decide whether to call Horse and apologize, text again or what.

I finally decided to text. He probably wouldn’t take a call from me anyway, and I couldn’t blame him for that. But I couldn’t just leave it like that—I wasn’t that kind of person. I drove home after work, grabbed a big glass of water and crafted my text carefully.

Me: I’m really sorry about my messages last night. It’s no excuse, but I was drunk and wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry I bothered you and I’m sorry for the things I said. I was a bitch, it wasn’t called for and I feel like shit. I promise, I won’t bother you again.

I sat, holding my phone, not sure if I wanted him to reply or not. Shit, my head was killing me. Why did I drink the tequila? I couldn’t handle tequila, I knew that. The last time I’d done tequila shots I’d stripped off my shirt and danced on the coffee table at a party that had thankfully been very small. Gary’d stuffed dollar bills in my jeans and told me to drink more tequila. His friends had cheered me on and waved around their own money. Gary thought that kicked ass.

Guess I couldn’t claim there hadn’t been warning signs that the man was a douche…

The door slammed open and I winced.

“Marie, I gotta talk to you,” Jeff said, sitting down heavily on the stool next to mine.

“I’m pretty hung over. I don’t want to talk,” I muttered, closing my eyes.

“It’s important. I need money.”

“Um, I’ve got a little in my purse,” I replied. “How much do you want?”

“A lot,” he replied, not meeting my eyes. “I’m kind of in a bind.”

That caught my attention, and I looked at him. Really looked at him. What I saw shocked me. He’d lost at least ten pounds in the past couple weeks, and his hair clearly hadn’t been washed in a couple of days. His face was sallow and his eyes dull—not just hangover dull.

“Jeff, are you sick? You don’t look good. I want to take your temperature.”

“Jesus, Marie!” he burst out, slamming his hand down on the counter so hard I felt the trailer shake. I jumped, startled. “Why are you so damn pushy? I’m not your kid, I’m a grown man.”

I froze. Jeff never yelled at me. In fact, Jeff never yelled, period. He’d always been mellow and the pot didn’t exactly work to change that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching up and rubbing his shoulder, as if he’d been carrying something heavy and his back ached. “I shouldn’t yell at you. But I really need some money fast, Marie.”

“Why?”

“Capital,” he replied, not meeting my eyes. “I’ve got a business deal in the works, but I need startup cash. In fact, I need a lot of startup cash. Hell of an opportunity, I can’t afford to miss it.”

I shook my head, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

“Seriously? You know I don’t have money like that,” I said. “You can have all I’ve got, but it’s about twelve hundred bucks total. That’s it.”

“What about Gary?”

That stopped me short.

“Gary?”

“It’s a community property state, isn’t it?” Jeff asked, shifting nervously. “You can call him and make him give you the money. Do it for me, Marie. I really need the cash.”

I shook my head slowly, unsure I’d actually heard him correctly.

“Well, for one thing, Gary never has any cash,” I said slowly. “He spends it faster than he makes it, and it’s not like we owned anything valuable. And for another, did you forget that the last time I saw him he beat the crap out of me?”

Jeff leaned toward me, putting his hands on my shoulders, meeting me face-to-face.

“I’m desperate, sis. What about your house? Can you get a line of credit on your house?”

I shook my head again, stunned. Had Jeff lost his mind?

“The house is already mortgaged to the hilt. We’re probably upside down on the thing. What’s really going on?” I demanded. I didn’t buy this “business deal” thing for a minute, and I refused to believe Jeff had forgotten what Gary did to me. I couldn’t deny it any longer—something really wrong, really wrong was happening. Something bad enough to make my baby brother desperate.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head at me, turning away. “I wanted to make this deal happen and thought you might help me. You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked you. I’m sorry.”

With that he turned and walked back out of the trailer. Seconds later his car started and he disappeared for the night. Seems so obvious in retrospect, but honestly—I didn’t see what happened next coming.

Not even a little bit.

Chapter Nine

Coeur d’Alene, Idaho

Sept. 16

Horse

Horse leaned back against the bed, watching Serena’s ass as she rode his cock like a rodeo queen.

Better than looking at her face. Not that Serena wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t hold a candle to Marie.

Now her… He could look at her face all day.

Most of his brothers wanted him to forget about the bitch. Women like her aren’t worth the hassle, just grab some sweet butt to be your house mouse if random hookups aren’t working for you. And if she gets on your nerves? Well, there’s always another bitch waiting to take her place.

Serena stopped, turning to look at him.

“You paying attention?”

He laughed and shook his head.

“Sorry, babe, lost in my thoughts. Let’s keep it up, okay?”

He gave her ass an encouraging smack, and she smiled at him with carefully painted lips. The girl was a pro, no question there. Cunt like a vise, mouth like a vacuum. He’d be crazy to consider giving up hot and cold running pussy like this for an old lady who could be a certified bitch.

But what a bitch…

He never got bored around Marie, and that was the fuckin’ truth. And he didn’t think he’d get distracted with her on his cock. She might not be a pro like Serena, but she had the sweetest pussy he’d ever tasted. Damn, but he wanted to taste her again. The thought made him even harder.

An hour later, Serena was gone and Horse still hadn’t budged from the bed. Time to head over to the clubhouse soon, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about Marie. They were going to discuss Jeff-hole’s fuckups during church today.

Damn, Marie’s fuckwad brother was an idiot.

And it wasn’t like they hadn’t been patient.

Horse had started finding “mistakes” in the wire transfers almost three months ago. Small ones at first, a thousand here, five hundred there. Then they got bigger. Jeff had all kinds of excuses, from simple typos to running behind on his reports. But in the end, it all pointed in the same direction—Jeff was running a skim. Fuckwit thought he could steal from the Reapers and live to enjoy it.

Just thinking about shit like this made Horse feel old.

Wasn’t like Jeff didn’t know what he’d gotten into. Hell, he’d come to them. They’d made it clear from the start that they wouldn’t tolerate any bullshit and that the penalty for said bullshit would be high. The worst part would be the collateral damage. Marie. She loved that douche, really loved him.

Horse didn’t see a happy ending.

If Marie was his old lady, he might be able to protect her brother a little better. Give him a chance to save his ass. As it stood, the fucker was toast, along with any chance Horse might have with Marie. Best-case scenario she’d never figure out what happened to Jeff, spend the rest of her life wondering and suspecting that the Reapers’d killed him.

Best case.

Worst case?

LEO would show up at her door to tell her that Jeff’s body had been found in a shallow grave minus his balls and dick, an “R” for Reapers carved into his damned chest. But Marie didn’t want them to “hate each other” for what went down at the hot springs. That was the least of his worries, for chrissake.

Shit.

Horse thought about how hot she looked in the picture she’d texted him, the one where she was all dressed up to go out. Right on schedule his dick stood at attention, begging for a fuck as if Serena hadn’t just wrung him dry.

Marie’s picture was cute and sexy, just like her. She’d taken it in the bathroom mirror, all dressed up to go party with her friend. Little black dress, showing off way too much of her cleavage. And her legs… He couldn’t see all of those legs, but any fucker standing next to her would see them and more if she bent over even a little bit. And those fishnet tights? Fuckin’ A.

He reached down and grabbed his cock, sliding his hand up and down the length roughly. He hunted for his phone with the other, wanting to pull up the pic, but it wasn’t on the bedside table.

Shit, he’d left it at the clubhouse last night.

Didn’t matter, her image was burned in his brain. He’d ’bout lost his mind the night she’d sent it to him. She looked fantastic, no question. But his woman shouldn’t be going out dressed like that without him there to protect her. Every man in the place would take one look at those legs and see themselves bending her over a table, shoving their dicks right up her ass.

The thought of her down and spread on a table made Horse gasp, pre-come dripping down his erection. He slid his hand up, smearing the fluid around, and started jacking himself seriously. He could see it already. He’d walk up to her in the club, right behind her where she couldn’t see. She’d be talking to her girlfriend, laughing and sipping on some kind of pink girly shit, because Marie was all girl. Her lips would wrap around that straw, sucking down the booze like she’d suck down his come after blowing him.

Horse slid his fingers up, catching more of the pre-come oozing out and circled his head with it. Fuck, that felt good. What did it say about a man when jacking off to a memory felt better than a hot bitch like Serena doing a reverse cowgirl?

Horse felt a climax building in his swollen balls, a shitload of come just for Marie. She had the hottest mouth, the softest hands and a pussy he’d die for. He couldn’t wait to blow all over her tits and make her rub it while she fingered herself.

Why the hell hadn’t he managed to fuck her yet?

Time to fix that. He’d walk up behind her, reach around and take the drink out of her hand, setting it on the table. Then he’d grab her around the waist before she could complain, swinging her little body up into his arms and carrying her right into the bathroom.

Ass like hers was too hot to wait until they got home.

She’d probably bitch a little when he bent her over, but he’d shut her up, warning her to brace against the counter. Damn, but his girl could bitch about anything. The thought of Marie’s face, all pissed off at him for calling her sweet butt, made his cock jerk, and he had to stop moving for a second.

No good, blowing your wad before the best part.

After about a minute he’d cooled off enough to let the fantasy play out.

He’d push her over and slide his hands under that little dress, pulling it up until he saw the small of her back. Those fishnets would be hooked to a garter belt, with a black thong to match. He’d reach down and push the narrow flap of fabric aside, sliding his finger into her cunt to feel just how hot and tight she was.

She might complain but Marie was always ready for him, no question. Horse let the fantasy take over again. Fuck…

In his mind he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to pull out his cock and balls, rubbing his cock head against the crease of her ass. She shivered, and he slid off those naughty little panties of hers, dropping them to the floor. She stepped out of them and set her high heels wide, tilting up her ass and inviting him right on in.

Be rude to turn down an invitation like that.

He reached down, grabbing the tip of his cock, sliding it along the slit of her pussy a couple of times before settling himself. Then he took her hips in his hands, holding her tight, and thrust himself all the way in. She screamed, muscles tightening up around his cock. He should have taken it slower, she’d probably never had a man so big inside before.

“Sorry, baby,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, sucking in deep breaths. He felt her membranes tighten around him, twitching and squeezing him harder than that goddamn masseuse from the spa in downtown Spokane. So fuckin’ hot. Horse couldn’t wait any longer.

Slowly he pulled out as she gripped him, muscles twitching. He retreated almost all the way, feeling her lips tighten around the rim of his head before slamming back into her.

Things got wild after that.

It took everything he had to stay upright as he fucked Marie. She gasped each time he bottomed out, cunt wrapped around him so tight it almost hurt. Fuck, she felt good. Again and again he forced his way into her small body, until he felt his balls drawing up, ready to blow his load straight into her womb.

Marie was close too. She’d gotten so wet and sloppy that every thrust squelched and she kept begging him for more, to fuck her harder. He leaned over, covering her body with his, bracing himself against the counter with one hand while the other searched for her clit.

There it was.

Horse thrust his finger against it, too far gone to be subtle or gentle. Apparently she didn’t mind, because as soon as he touched it she blew up like a fuckin’ bomb around him, screaming. It felt incredible, the way her entire body centered on him, gripping him, begging for his come.

He’d give it to her too.

Horse released her clit, leaning both arms against the counter as he started really hammering her. Their grunts mixed as he took her, branding her as his and fucking her so hard she’d feel his cock in the back of her throat.

Marie.

His girl.

His property.

Only his.

Horse blew up, coming so hard he forgot to breathe. He let his hand fall away from his cock, dropping the fantasy. Then he started laughing at himself right there in his bedroom, the sound anything but funny because fucking Marie in his head was better than fucking Serena for real.

Might as well shoot himself, get it over with.

Horse pulled up to the clubhouse, cutting it far too close for church.

One of the prospects stood in the parking lot outside, watching the bikes and keeping an eye on the gate. The Reapers bought the old National Guard armory fifteen years back. With its concrete block construction, walled courtyard and small windows it was perfect, both as a clubhouse and a fortress. Not that they’d come under attack recently. The Reapers were indisputably dominant in the area, with all other clubs operating only with their blessing. That was the subject of the meeting.

Protecting that dominance.

Horse walked into the clubhouse, which was first and foremost a lounge and hangout area. There were rooms upstairs kitted out for overnight visits, of course, and some storage, but they never kept anything too sensitive there. At least nothing where LEO could ever find it. The cops didn’t show up often, but the times they’d brought warrants they hadn’t found jack shit.

The girls needed to come through and clean the place out, Horse decided, looking around the clubhouse with distaste. Debris from last night’s party still littered the tables, couches and the long bar along one wall. Most of them were probably still sleeping it off upstairs, although a dirty blonde wearing a tight jean skirt and halter top was passed out on the couch, legs spread wide. Thank God he didn’t live here anymore; now that he had his own place he cringed at what used to seem normal in terms of hygiene.

Yup, getting old.

“You coming, bro?” asked Ruger, a heavily tattooed and pierced man with a short mohawk. He stood by the door with another of their prospects, Painter. “Last one.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Horse replied. He handed his gun to Painter, who set it carefully on the counter with the others, next to a box full of cell phones.

“You got mine in there already?” he asked. “Think I left it here last night.”

“Yeah.”

Horse nodded his thanks and walked into church.

Fifteen guys, all but three of their active, full-patch members, already sat around the big, scarred wooden table that had once decorated some fancy-assed conference room. Now it had a thousand nicks and little carvings in it, and a big RFFR painted in the center—Reapers Forever, Forever Reapers.

“Nice you could join us,” said Picnic, sitting at the head of the table. “Thought Serena might have sucked you in. Get lost in that snatch of hers?”

“It’s five o’clock exactly,” Horse said, shrugging as he draped his large frame across an empty chair. “What can I say? I’m a precisely tuned, high-performance machine, unlike you and that crap-ass bike you ride.”

“Fuck off,” Picnic said, grinning back. Then his expression grew more serious. “Okay, boys, we got something important to deal with today. I think you all know we’ve got a thief. Jeff Jensen, computer guy, out of the Yakima Valley. Got back from seeing him this morning, no progress at all.”

“He’s the guy handling our offshore stuff, right?” asked Ruger.

“Yeah,” Horse replied. “Computer genius, knows his shit, our transactions are untraceable. God knows we’re paying him for it too. But it’s not enough. He’s been skimming for months. Been tracking it down for a while now, already gave him opportunities to make it right, so it’s not just a matter of him screwing up. Definitely skimming. It’s small compared to our total volume, but we can’t let shit like this happen. Bad for business.”

“We let one do it, they’re all gonna try,” Picnic said. “We start losing respect, next thing you know the girls at the Line’ll be giving drinks and lap dances to another MC.”

“So what’s the damage?” asked Bam Bam.

“We’re right at $50k,” Horse answered. “It’s been push and pull, he grabs a couple grand, then tries to pay it back. He’s gambling, maybe using. I hate to lose him as an asset because we don’t have anyone else in the fold to replace him. That’s why we’ve given him so many chances to make things right. But his losses are getting bigger—as of last week he was only into us for $20k total, so it’s escalating fast. We let him go much longer and we’ll be down serious cash. He might even pull a runner on us.”

“We should put him in the ground,” Max said, voice firm and cold. Horse glanced at him, surprised to see his face flushed, the little muscle in his jaw flexing with suppressed emotion. Max was still on probation, and it wasn’t usual for a guy in his position to talk so much during church. Max’s blood tended to run hot though. He was one of the hardest men Horse had ever met, which was saying a lot. “We’ve done everything but lead this guy to the shitter and wipe his ass. He’s always making promises, always got an excuse, but nothing ever changes. You should’ve seen him last night. He’s definitely tweaking. Time to cut our losses.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

“How much does he know about club business?” asked Duck, a Vietnam vet who couldn’t make the long runs anymore. He spent most of his time in the clubhouse drinking beer and telling the girls stories about back in the day when men were men and women knew their place. Horse didn’t much like the man but he’d still trust him with his life.

He’d trust any of the brothers with his life.

“Too much,” Horse replied, his voice heavy. “Way too much. He’s a liability if we don’t take out some kind of insurance.”

“What kind insurance is good enough for a guy like that?” asked Max, clearly spoiling for a fight, although damned if Horse could understand why. “He’s a liar and a thief. The money we’ve been feeding him for his work should be enough for anyone. Instead he’s livin’ in a shithole, smoking weed and waiting for his sister to bring home her fuckin’ pathetic little paychecks. What kind of man lives like that? Even if he started playing it straight, we’d never be able to believe him. Probably full of all kinds of crazy lies.”

“That’s the truth,” Picnic murmured. He looked up at Horse, his face grave.

“We in agreement here?”

Horse glanced around the room, seeing Jensen’s death written in every face. He couldn’t argue with them—the man knew way too much. He needed to be removed.

Fuck.

He thought about Marie, what she looked like when she was pissed at him, spitting fire like a little dragon. Damn, he wanted to get inside that woman. Once wouldn’t be close to enough. As usual his dick stood up to salute the idea, but what really pushed him over the edge was the thought of Marie crying over that lame-ass bastard.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“What about the sister?” he asked.

“What about her?” Picnic replied, voice carefully neutral.

“She’s gonna be my old lady. Some nice insurance there,” Horse said, aware of the pointed looks several of the brothers gave each other. “And when it’s family, we take care of business different and you know it.”

“Last I heard, she wasn’t on board with that,” Picnic replied slowly. “Girl didn’t even ask about you last night, Horse.”

“There’s precedent. Not all old ladies start out with their priorities in line, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be claimed if the president approves it and the members agree. It’s happened.”

“Sure, thirty years ago,” snapped Bam Bam. “They did all kinds of shit back then. We’re livin’ in a modern world, bro, you can’t just kidnap some chick and take her home.”

Duck snorted and slammed his hand down on the table, startling everyone.

“You pussies talk about the modern world like we give a shit about their rules. Remember who we are,” he boomed. “We’re men—one percenters. Fucking kings of the MC world. We don’t follow the rules, we make our own goddamn rules. My brother Horse wants a woman, wants her bad enough to come to the club and throw down for her. He ever done that before?”

He looked around the room, glaring at each man in turn.

Horse bit back a grin. Duck on a roll, hadn’t seen that one coming.

“Our brother has come before this club and let us know his intention to take an old lady,” Duck continued. “The situation is complicated. We all know he’ll put the club first, so we hear him out and back his play. He may not always be right, but he’s always our brother. You little cocksuckers need to think about that, ’fore I show up here one day and find you growing tits in place of your balls.”

Duck sat back with a grunt.

“How ’bout you tell us what you really think, Duck,” said Ruger, laughing and relaxing back into his chair. “Jesus.”

“He’s right,” Horse said, voice deadly serious. “I may not always be right, but I am always your brother—or at least I thought I was. A Reaper takes what he wants. You got my back?”

Picnic sighed.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said. “She isn’t part of our world, she’s got no idea what to expect and she doesn’t even want to try. It’s not gonna end well.”

“That’s my problem, now isn’t it?”

“It’s your problem so long as you keep it controlled and out of club business,” Picnic replied. “She’s a nice kid, I like her. Good cook, fucking love that potato salad of hers. Puts bacon in it. It’d be nice to have some of that shit with dinner next time we roast a pig. But that still leaves us to deal with her brother. Makes things more complicated.”

Horse smiled. He’d won—this was just details.

“So she’s our insurance,” he answered. “Let the brother know that if he doesn’t pay us back, he’ll never see her again. Give him a few months, see how things play out.”

“You think he’ll find a way to pay us back?” asked Picnic.

“No idea,” Horse admitted. “The guy practically prints money when he’s focused and sober. Enough motivation, he may come through for us.”

“Hasn’t so far.”

“He loves his sister,” Bam Bam said quietly. “He’s a weasel and a bastard, but he really does care about her. Seen it with my own eyes. I don’t think he’ll hang her out to dry.”

“We make sure he knows—he doesn’t pay, she’s in big trouble,” Horse said. “He pays up, great. He blows this deal, we put him in the ground. Everybody wins.”

Except Marie. But Jensen was a big boy and he’d chosen to do business with and then screw over the Reapers MC. If it wasn’t for her, fucker’d be dead already.

“And the issue of respect?” asked Ruger. “We have to cover our bases here. Can’t look weak.”

“That’s the truth,” Picnic said. “But taking a man’s sister, holding her hostage? That’s payment in blood, we spread it ’round the right places. It should do.”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” said Max. Horse looked at him, trying to read his mind. Something was up with Max. They all cared about club business, but this was a step beyond. Almost personal.

“The money,” Max continued. “It’s one thing to let Horse have his little fuck toy, I don’t give a shit about that. It’s another to just sit back and lose fifty large. You guys may have money stashed somewhere, but I don’t. We sure we want to risk that kind of cash on this asshat pulling through for us, on top of the risk of him running to LEO?”

Horse narrowed his eyes at Max, who met them straight on. The man didn’t flinch.

“It’s a good point,” Bam Bam said, his voice mild. “Of course, we take him out now, we never see that money again anyway, Max.”

“Well maybe we wouldn’t have our asses hanging out so far if Horse’d done a better job watching him.”

Picnic sat up.