Reaper's Legacy

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.

“Shit, I have to do everything,” she burst out. “Okay, here’s the whole story.”

Ten minutes later they knew far too much about me and Ruger, and I’d silently vowed never to tell Kimber anything again. Ever. Not even where I stored the toilet paper, because that’s how untrustworthy she was.

“And he just tucked in his dick and walked away?” Em asked for the third time, clearly awed. “He didn’t even start yelling or throwing shit?”

I shook my head. I should’ve been embarrassed, but I was a little too drunk to fully appreciate my humiliation. Stupid Kimber. Backstabbing bitch.

“He’s a man-whore,” Kimber declared, shrugging. “Who knows why guys like that do anything? Instead of wondering why he did it, we need to focus on the real problem. How do we get them into bed with each other?”

“No!” I said. “I am not sleeping with him. Didn’t you get the whole point of the story? That would fuck things up for me and Noah living here.”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s already fucked up,” she told me. “I was all in favor of avoiding him, but then you crossed the Rubicon!”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

“Means we need to adjust our plan of action. Avoidance is no longer an option.”

“No, what the hell is a Rubicon?” I asked her. Kimber sighed heavily, clearly frustrated.

“It’s the river that separates Cisalpine Gaul from Italy,” she said. “It’s where Roman generals used to leave their armies before returning home, as a sign they weren’t a threat to the Roman Republic. Two thousand years ago, Julius Caesar had to make a decision whether to obey the Senate or bring his troops home with him, starting a civil war. His legions crossed the Rubicon, which led to the end of the Republic. Not officially, of course. Augustus was the first to acknowledge dicatorship openly. Fuckin’ turning point in Western civilization, dumbass.”

We all stared at her, eyes wide.

“Where the hell did you learn all that?” I asked her. Kimber rolled her eyes.

“College,” she said. “I have a history minor. Christ, is there a law that strippers can’t read or something? Now, please, focus. All of you.”

“My mom would like you,” Dancer said. “She would like you a lot.”

Kimber shrugged.

“This whole situation is like a great big zit that needs popping,” she continued. “The damage is already done—your face looks like shit and no concealer’s gonna cover it. You might as well squeeze hard and get your money shot. You’ll both feel better afterward.”

“Ewwwww …”

“That is the least sexy thing I’ve ever heard anyone say about sex,” Maggs announced. “For the first time in two years, I’m kind of glad Bolt’s in jail, because there’s no damned way I’d touch his cock tonight after that.”

“I call it like I see it,” Kimber declared. “Now, let’s figure out the best way for Sophie to start screwing Ruger without letting him think he’s won.”

“Kimber,” I growled, lunging toward her. I bumped the pitcher of huckleberry margaritas instead, which splashed across the table, dousing Maggs, Dancer, and Marie with sticky, sugary, boozey deliciousness.

Everyone burst out laughing again, and this time Dancer actually did fall off her chair, which made it even funnier.

“That’s what you get for making fun of my historical analogies!” Kimber howled at us gleefully. “I am the QUEEN. You do what I tell you, bitches!”

“You’re crazy,” I announced, dipping a finger into the puddle on the table and tasting it. Sooo good. What a waste. “But you’re right about one thing. I may be a petty, selfish person, but I don’t want him to win. He always wins. I think you might be right about popping the zit, though.”

“This is an important discussion,” Maggs said solemnly, holding up a hand to halt us. “And as the senior old ladies present, Dancer and I will moderate it as soon as we get changed. Is it okay if we dig through your closet?”

“Sure,” I said. “Here, let me come help you find something.”

“No worries,” Dancer said, giggling. “We’ll find it. We know our way around the apartment already.”

I smiled at her happily.

“Thanks again,” I told them all. “I can’t tell you how amazing it was to come here and find everything all fixed up. Noah loves his room, too.”

“It’s what we do,” Maggs said. Marie grinned at me, then shivered, rubbing her arms up and down.

“This stuff is cold. Let’s get changed,” she said, and the three women took off down the outside stairs.

“I’m going to get some hot water to pour over this mess,” I said, contemplating the Great Margarita Lake. “There’s got to be something we can use in the kitchen.”

We trooped into the house, and I rummaged through Ruger’s kitchen cupboards until I found two big mixing bowls, which we used to pour hot water over the table. Then we flopped back in the chairs and Kimber made herself useful for once, asking the question that’d been eating at me all night.

“So, you really a virgin?”

“Mostly,” Em said, rolling her eyes.

“Oooh, mostly,” Kimber said, leaning forward, practically quivering with curiosity. “We’ll get back to that in a minute. Now tell me what’s up with the V-card. How old are you, anyway?”

“I’m twenty-two,” Em said. She didn’t seem to mind the questions at all. Kimber wasn’t the only one with boundary issues. “And I’m a virgin because I haven’t wanted to just do it with some random guy to get it over with. But every non-random guy I meet is scared of my dad. To be fair, he really is scary. My sister stands up to him, but it seems like I never can. Now I’m stuck at home, while she’s loving life in Olympia. She’s my little sister—still can’t figure out how that happened.”

“Have you always lived at home?” Kimber asked, her eyes wide with something like horror. “No wonder you’re a virgin!”

“No, I lived in Seattle for my first semester of college,” Em explained. “But I didn’t really know what I wanted to be, and as soon as word about my dad got out, the guys stayed away from me. Didn’t help that he showed up at my dorm one day and made a public announcement that any guy who tried to get me naked would lose his dick.”

“Holy shit,” I muttered, eyes wide. Kimber swallowed.

“That’s hard-core,” she admitted.

Em rolled her eyes and threw up her hands in disgust.

“That’s my dad. Mom used to keep him under control, but she’s been gone for a while now. He’s the club president, so it’s not like there’s anyone to stand up to him.”

“What about this Painter guy?” I asked. Em groaned and dropped her head to the table, banging it dramatically.

“Painter,” she said. “Painter is a pain in my ass. He was a Reapers prospect until a few months ago. Got his patch now. He seems to like me, he’s flirted with me, and he’ll scare off other guys who come around me, yet when I tried to jump his bones in the dark he ran away like a fucking chicken. Every. Single. Time.”

Kimber shook her head knowingly.

“Yup, scared of daddy,” she said. “Lost cause, babe. You need to find someone else.”

“Yeah, I know,” Em said, her voice wistful. “I could kind of understand it back when he was a prospect, so I cut him some slack. Prospecting’s hard work. But he’s got his colors now. He needed to put up or shut up, so that’s over.”

“Damned straight,” Kimber said, banging her fist down on the deck table. The whole thing rattled and we all jumped a little. “Let’s go to Spokane next weekend, the three of us. The way I see it, Maggs, Marie, and Dancer have to rat you out, because they’re part of the club. But me and Sophie? We’re free agents. Let’s get your card punched with someone disposable, and then work on finding you a man who’s not a fucking pussy. This Painter guy is full of shit.”

“Actually, I’ve been talking to someone online,” Em admitted, flushing a little. “I really like him. A lot. We’ve been chatting for a couple months, but we just started calling each other sometimes. I’m pretty into him, but I kept hoping Painter—”

“Screw Painter,” Kimber declared. “He’s not a real man. Maybe your online guy isn’t either, but we’ve got your back. See if he’s available next week, let’s get this thing done. We’ll meet up in a public place. Get our own hotel rooms, so we can make sure you’re safe.”

Em’s eyes grew bright. The whole idea seemed sort of half-cocked to me, and I frowned.

“Okay …” she said. “Wow, I can’t believe we’re going to do this. But what about Sophie? I don’t think Ruger would want her going out like that.”

Suddenly I didn’t care how stupid it sounded. Ruger wasn’t in charge. Fuck him. Nothing quite like flaming shots to give a girl courage.

“I’m in,” I declared. “He doesn’t tell me what to do.”

“Seriously?” Em asked, peering at me in the darkness. “We’d really just go out and do this?”

“Why not? Ruger’s not my boss. And Kimber needs to get out sometimes, too. We’ll check this guy out and make a call for you about whether he’s worthy. There’s always more guys if he’s not. Trust me, if Kimber can’t find you a man, he doesn’t exist. She’s like a sexual bloodhound. Always has been.”

“Damned straight,” Kimber said without a trace of embarrassment. “I’ll ask Ryan if he can watch Noah for you, Soph. He owes me. He gets to play poker every single week, and when I was pregnant I told him that if I was sober, he should be sober, too. He totally ignored me. Also, he bought me a minivan. A fucking minivan. What kind of man does that to a woman?”

I started giggling. Em joined me, and then all three of us were laughing, and I’m still not entirely sure why. We were still cackling like drunken hyenas when Marie, Dancer, and Maggs got back. They looked funny in my clothes, particularly Dancer, who was way too tall and more than a little too curvy. She’d found some yoga pants and an old T-shirt, both of which were extremely tight in critical areas.

“Bam is going to love this,” she said, twirling for us and shaking her ass dramatically. “If he’s home tonight. Anyone know the schedule?”

“Party tonight for the brothers coming in,” Marie said. “Guess some kind of big club meeting is going down? Horse will be here in about an hour to give us rides home. Me and Maggs are throwing together breakfast tomorrow, if anyone wants to help. They’ve already lined up a pig to roast for the afternoon, so all we need to worry about is snacks and sides.”

“I can do a Costco run in the morning,” Dancer said. “Em, wanna come with?”

“Sure,” she said. “Dad said they’ll be done with church around four. You can come out anytime after that, Sophie.”

“Church?” I asked, startled. Dancer snickered.

“That’s what they call their meetings,” she told me. “No idea why, just always been that way as long as anyone can remember. Nothing to do with us, though—club business. Don’t worry about that. Your job is to have fun at the party.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to the party,” I said, losing some of my bravado. “After Ruger’s little tantrum, I think it might better if I stayed home.”

“Not happening,” Dancer said firmly. “Whatever’s between you two—and don’t think we’ve forgotten, that conversation was interrupted just when it was getting interesting—needs to be resolved. Otherwise you’ll kill each other at this rate. Going to the party is perfect.”

“Why?”

“Because he’ll either lose his shit or he won’t,” she replied. “I mean, some guy is going to talk to you at some point. Ruger loses it, we’ll see some action and you’ll get things figured out. He doesn’t, you’re off the hook and life can get back to normal. Either way, we’ll be there to watch it all, and in the end, it’s really all about us, right?”

“Um, this may shock you, but Ruger can be scary,” I said. “I don’t want him losing his shit. It’s happened before and it wasn’t nice.”

“It’ll be okay,” Maggs assured me. “These things work out at the Armory, no worries there. Maybe a good fight will clear his head.”

“I agree,” Marie said. “Get it out in the open. If you’re in front of the club, he’ll have to claim you as his property or let you go. That’s how it works.”

“You don’t find it even a little bit creepy to be called property?” I asked. They all burst out laughing again.

“It’s a different world, Sophie,” Marie said finally. “Trust me, I get how weird it sounds. When Horse first asked me to be his property, I dumped his ass. I didn’t get it back then—it’s like their own language. To bikers, being property means you’re important, special. Being an old lady is an honor and they treat it with huge respect.”

“Here’s what I wonder,” Kimber broke in. “I know a little about club life from working at The Line, but I’ve never figured this one out. If your whole identity depends on your relationship to a man, isn’t that a little fucked up?”

Pretty good question.

“Maybe,” Dancer admitted. “But I’m not too worried about it. My identity is all my own. Always has been, always will be. It’s true that the club is for men and they usually call the shots when they’re playing with their friends. At home, though? Not so much. Bam pisses me off, I’m not suffering from a shortage of ways to make him pay.”

“Like what?”

Dancer smirked and raised a knowing brow.

“You really have to ask? Even the virgin girlie gets that.”

“Shut up,” Em groaned. “Don’t you ever get tired of discussing my sex life?”

“No,” the Reaper women chorused, and we all burst out laughing yet again.

“Here’s the thing—it’s up to you to decide what works and what’s a deal breaker,” Maggs said when the fit of giggles died down. “You lay it out for Ruger, Sophie. Either he’s on board or not, but the most important part is that you stick to your guns. If it’s a deal breaker, you’re done with him. Do whatever it takes to draw the line. I’m serious. You may have to find somewhere else to live if that happens, but don’t let him convince you there aren’t options. There’s always options.”

“No, what she really needs to do is screw him and dump his ass,” Em said, shivering with delicious glee. “He’s hot, she should just nail him. Is he any good, Kimber?”

“Don’t you dare,” I warned my friend, holding up a hand to her face. “Mouth. Shut.”

“Wait a minute! Party planning aside, we’re forgetting an important part of why we’re here,” Marie said suddenly. She turned to me. “I can’t believe we haven’t talked about work, Sophie. Sex is just way more interesting. Has Ruger mentioned a job?”

“No,” I said, more than ready for a change of subject. “I’m going to start looking on Monday. He said something about working for the club, but it seems a little weird to bring it up after this morning.”

“I manage a coffee shop for a friend,” Marie told me. Maggs, Em, and Dancer sobered, exchanging glances I couldn’t quite read. “I could really use some help in the mornings, if you have a way to get Noah to school. You’d be done by the afternoon when he gets home.”

“Um, I can look into it,” I said, wondering if my neighbor would help get Noah on the bus for me. Or maybe they had one of those morning drop-off programs?

“I think she should be a stripper at The Line,” Kimber piped up. Marie’s eyes widened.

“No way,” she said, her distaste visible. “That place is disgusting.”

“It’s a good way to earn money,” Kimber insisted. “Perfect for a single mom. She could work two nights a week and be with Noah every day. How is that a bad thing?”

“Um, the part where she sucks some stranger’s cock?” Marie asked. “I’ll bet Ruger would just looove that.”

“What?” I demanded. “I thought we were talking about dancing. No sucking cocks. Deal breaker!”

“We are talking about dancing,” Kimber said, rolling her eyes. “Nobody makes you work the VIP rooms. Totally your choice. Or you could waitress. They don’t make as much money, but they still do pretty well. Especially if you’re nice to the dancers. They’ll tip out if you treat them right.”

“You do not want to work there,” Marie insisted. “Seriously, most of those girls are whores. Not talking about you, Kimber, but the rest of them? You can’t trust that place for shit.”

“No, I was a whore,” Kimber announced blithely. “If by ‘whore’ you mean I got guys off for money. Mostly hand jobs, but if he’d pay enough I’d go down on him. Now I own a gorgeous house, I have a degree, and I even started a college fund for my kid. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

We all looked at her.

“Oh, seriously?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “You girls live in a fucking motorcycle gang. You really think you should judge me?”

“Club,” Em said. “It’s a motorcycle club. Being part of a club isn’t a crime, you know.”

“Whatever,” Kimber replied, waving her hand. “I own my body. It’s totally mine, and what I do with it is my business. I danced for guys, I touched them sometimes, and they gave me lots of money. How many women get groped every day by strangers? At least I got paid up front for it. I’d do it again, and I think Sophie should, too, if she really wants to provide for Noah.”

“No way,” I said, shaking my head.

“Working at The Line isn’t a bad idea,” Maggs said, surprising me. “I tended bar there and did pretty well. That’s how I met Bolt.”

“And did anyone bother you?” I asked. She shook her head.

“It’s a controlled environment,” she said. “Nobody gets in without security knowing. They keep an eye on everything. Even in the VIP rooms, security’s always right outside the door. I was probably safer there than I am at home.”

“Did you … I can’t think of a better way to ask this, so I guess I’ll just spit it out. Did you have to walk around naked?”

“No,” she said, smirking. “Servers at The Line are like furniture from IKEA. Okay to look at, but not what you want to draw attention to. I wore a black bustier, a short black skirt, and dark tights. Blended right in.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” I said. Marie scowled and shook her head, but Maggs grinned at me.

“I’ll introduce you to the manager tomorrow,” she said. “He’ll be at the party. And you’re coming—no negotiation. If you don’t figure things out with Ruger, maybe you’ll come home with a job.”