Reaper's Legacy

by Joanna Wylde

  They ignored me entirely, giggling and taking shots of each other with their phones. I guess I didn’t rate their attention, which was both depressing and a bit of a relief. Not that I cared how I looked—I’d gone with a basic T-shirt, my standard cutoffs and a pair of flip-flops. Despite my fight with Ruger yesterday morning (not to mention my margarita-fueled belligerence last night), I really did want to keep things low-key.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect at a Reapers party but I figured I’d be fine if I stuck with my girls.

  I’d sent a text to Ruger letting him know I was coming. He’d replied with a reminder about our conversation, which almost convinced me to change into something sluttier just to spite him. Then I pulled my head out of my ass. Ruger losing his shit was not something I wanted see, no matter how satisfying it would be to defy him.

  Defy him? Christ, how old was I?

  I also texted Maggs, Em, Dancer, and Marie. They said to come straight through to the back, where they were setting up the food outside. They’d asked me to stop off and buy a bunch of extra chips, so I’d hit Walmart on the way.

  Now I trailed behind the slut brigade, their big hair, loud makeup, and microscopic clothing providing plenty of cover as we walked toward the big gate in the courtyard. A couple of guys stood outside, obviously monitoring the entrance. The gaggle flirted with them and then passed on through. They probably thought I was a total hag in comparison, I realized glumly. A little lip gloss wouldn’t have killed me. Apparently giant shopping bags full of chips counted for something, though, because the men welcomed me enthusiastically enough.

  Sex appeal is great, but there’s nothing quite like food to win a man’s heart.

  “I’m Ruger’s almost-sister-in-law,” I told one of the guys, who nodded me on through. I followed the narrow driveway that ran along the side of the building until I reached the main courtyard out back—a broad, open space that was a mixture of parking lot and grass. Loud music blasted through giant box speakers, and evergreen-covered mountains surrounded us on all sides. It really was a gorgeous place—much nicer than I’d expected.

  A good-sized group of children darted through clumps of adults and took turns playing on a giant, clearly homemade swing set, complete with a fort at the top. There were men everywhere, far more men than women, although another group of girls followed me. I guessed the men had been there earlier and now the rest of the guests were arriving?

  Ruger was nowhere to be seen. I spotted a row of long folding tables near the back wall of the building covered with a mismatched series of tablecloths. Off to one side stood a black-barreled BBQ smoker almost as big as my car, mounted on a trailer. Smoke drifted out and the scent of roasting pig filled the air.

  “Sophie!” Marie called, waving me over toward one of the tables. I moved quickly toward her, trying not to stare at anyone, but it was hard. The guys were almost all at least a little scary-looking. I mean, some of them were regular enough, I guess, but somehow rougher. They had tanned skin and a disproportionate number of beards. Others were less normal-looking. I saw a lot of tattoos and piercings, and very few shirts, although they all seemed to be wearing their leather vests. All of them were Reapers and most seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

  I also noticed a few of the little boys wearing their own tiny vests. Not real ones, but play ones clearly meant to copy their daddies’. Shit. Knowing my luck, Noah would be begging for one of those if he saw them. Good thing I hadn’t brought him along.

  “Want some help with the bags?” a man asked. I opened my mouth to refuse, then looked up and realized it was Horse. I smiled, relieved to recognize someone besides just the girls I’d met last night.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said. “I met Marie. She’s great.”

  “No shit,” he replied, offering me a movie-star grin. Damn, but he was beautiful. “Worth every penny I paid for her.”

  That caught me short. I stopped, wondering if he could possibly be serious. He didn’t look like he was joking.

  “You coming?” he asked, glancing back at me. I pulled myself together and started walking again. What the hell had he meant by that?

  “Sophie!” Em called, spotting me from behind one of the tables. She darted forward and gave me a big hug.

  “I’m so glad we’re going out next weekend,” she whispered in my ear. “I talked to Liam this morning about meeting in real life, and he’s all over it. Thank you so much!”

  “That’s fantastic!” I replied, pulling back to look at her. She was so pretty this afternoon, the excitement in her eyes bright and shining. “Just remember, we’re going to stay safe. Don’t tell him where you live or anything. We’ll check him out, and if he’s a creeper, we’ll ditch his ass.”

  Em laughed.

  “Actually, telling him my address would be perfectly safe,” she answered. “Remember who I live with? Our house is a fortress. Which reminds me, I want to introduce you to my dad.”

  She took my hand and pulled me across the courtyard to the giant black BBQ. Several men stood around it drinking from red plastic cups. They turned as we walked up, openly checking me out. Clearly, subtlety wasn’t a highly valued trait here at the Armory.

  “This is my dad, Picnic,” Em said, stepping forward to wrap her arm around the one standing closest to us. He pulled her close, offering her an indulgent smile. He was tall and fairly well-built. He shared her piercing light blue eyes and his hair was a couple months overdue for a trim. I could tell he was older by the faint lines around his eyes, but his hair held only a hint of gray at the temples. And his body? Nice. Em’s dad was hot for an old guy.

  Not that I’d tell her that—who wants to hear that their dad’s hot?

  The most compelling thing about Picnic, though, was his air of command, mixed with just a hint of menace. I would’ve known he was club president even without the patch on his cut to tell me.

  No wonder guys were scared to ask her out.

  “Dad, this is Sophie,” Em continued. “She’s Ruger’s … Um, what are you, anyway?”

  “I’m sort of his stepsister-in-law,” I said, smiling awkwardly. “His stepbrother, Zach, is my son’s father.”

  “He mentioned you were back in town,” Picnic said. His face gave away nothing, and I couldn’t tell if he was happy to meet me or annoyed I’d crashed their party.

  “This is Slide and Gage,” Em continued, nodding toward the other men.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. Slide was a short, middle-aged guy with a bit of a gut and a beard that wasn’t totally white, but close. He didn’t actually look old enough for such white hair, so maybe he was just one of those guys whose hair changes early? He had a real Santa vibe going for him. Well, if Santa wore ripped jeans and carried a giant knife on his belt.

  Gage was another hottie. He had dark hair, so dark it was almost black, and his skin held just enough color to make me think his ancestors hadn’t all been of the milky-white variety. Latino or Indian, most likely. Because sometimes God is generous and kind, Gage wasn’t wearing a shirt, offering me glimpses of his bare chest, which was every bit as ripped as Ruger’s. He had fewer tattoos, though. His cut had a little patch under his name that said “Sgt. at Arms,” which surprised me. I guess I hadn’t expected bikers to have so many officers and such. It just seemed so … organized?

  Not only that, they obviously had to pass some sort of minimum hotness test to join up.

  “You Ruger’s woman?” he asked, breaking the spell I’d fallen into. I blushed, hoping my pervy thoughts weren’t totally written all over my face. The smirk on his face wasn’t comforting.

  “Um, no,” I said, glancing over at Em. She grinned. “But he’s letting us stay in his basement. I have a seven-year-old. Our old place in Seattle wasn’t working out.”

  That was the understatement of the year, for sure.

  “Where’s the kid?” he asked, glancing around.

  “He’s with a sitter,” I said. “This is my first club event, and I sort of wanted to
check things out for myself before dragging him along.”

  Picnic raised a brow, and I realized I’d probably just insulted them. Great.

  “Also, I hear the parties go pretty late,” I added quickly. “I didn’t want to have to leave just when things were getting fun. A friend offered to watch him, so here I am.”

  Em grinned at me and I gave a sigh of relief. Okay, apparently my quick save had actually worked.

  “Well, you get bored, come and see me,” Gage said, offering a slow smile. “I’d be happy to show you around, maybe even take you for a ride later.”

  “Um, thanks,” I replied, Ruger’s warning ringing through my head. Gage was cute, but despite the fact that I didn’t acknowledge Ruger’s right to give orders, I also didn’t want to get into a huge fight with him. “Nice to meet you all. I’m gonna go find Marie and Dancer now. I want to make sure they don’t need any help setting things up or something.”

  “I’ll come with,” Em said, popping up on her toes to give Picnic a quick kiss on the cheek. For all her whining about him, she obviously adored the man. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Even before they’d kicked me out, my parents were never the kind of people you’d just casually walk up to and kiss.

  Nope, not in the Williams household. I’d been devastated when they said they’d have nothing to do with a daughter who was a whore, let alone her bastard. Now I realized I was way better off without them. Noah’s circle might be small, but everyone in it loved him unconditionally, and they weren’t afraid to show it.

  My parents didn’t deserve to meet their grandson.

  We found Dancer, Marie, and Maggs arranging a mountain of food on the tables, laughing and smacking hands playfully as guys tried to steal bites before it was ready.

  “Thanks for picking up the chips,” Maggs said. I noticed all three women wore black leather vests.

  “I thought you said only guys could be club members?” I asked, nodding toward them.

  “Oh, these aren’t club cuts,” Dancer said. “Check it out.”

  She turned around and I saw a patch on the back that said “Property of Bam Bam,” along with a Reapers symbol. My eyes widened.

  “I didn’t realize the property thing was so … literal …”

  “The guys have their colors and we have ours,” Maggs said. “Civilians don’t get it, but all the patches mean something. The guys fly their colors because they’re proud of the club, but their cuts tell stories, too. You can learn a lot about the guy by the patches he wears. It’s like a language or something. Everyone knows where everyone else stands.”

  “The great thing about a property patch is that you’re totally covered,” Dancer added. “There’s not a man here who’s gonna touch me, no matter how drunk or stupid he gets by the end of the night. Not that I’m too worried here at our own clubhouse, but we go on runs where there are hundreds of riders, even thousands. Everyone who knows a damned thing about the MC world takes one look at this and they know not to fuck with me.”

  “Yeah,” Em said. “You fuck with one Reaper’s property, you better be ready to take down every guy in the club.”

  “Huh,” I said, trying to sound noncommittal. I liked the idea of protection as much as anyone, but there was something very uncomfortable to me about a woman choosing to call herself property. Shades of Zach and how possessive he was, maybe. But Maggs and the others didn’t seem too terribly oppressed, either.

  I glanced around, taking in how many women were starting to fill the courtyard. Only a handful wore property patches.

  “What about the rest of them?” I asked. Em shrugged.

  “They’re not important,” she said bluntly. “Some of them are sweetbutts and club whores, which means they’re around a lot—the guys share them. Some are just random girls looking for a walk on the wild side. But none of them really count, not compared to us. They’re all fair game.”

  “Fair game?”

  “Free pussy,” Maggs said, her voice matter-of-fact. “They’re just here to party, and if we’re lucky, they’ll help clean up. They give anyone shit, their asses are out the door. Good news is, they know their place. Half these girls work at The Line anyway.”

  “What about me?” I asked, unnerved. “I don’t have a patch.”

  “That’s why you’ll stick with us,” Dancer said, her voice serious. “Despite his general dickitude, Ruger’s right about one thing. You really don’t want to fuck around with the brothers. Don’t flirt if you aren’t interested in following through. And for fuck’s sake, don’t go off alone or into the Armory with anyone, particularly upstairs. There’s some wild shit that happens up there. You don’t want to be part of it, trust me.”

  “Jesus, you’re gonna scare her,” Em said, frowning. “Look at it this way—would you go to any party or bar without taking some basic safety precautions? Only take drinks you’ve poured yourself, or ones that we’ve given you. You ever been to a frat party? Think of it that way. Dad, Horse, Ruger, and Bam Bam are safe. Don’t go off with someone you don’t know, though. Stay in public areas. Use common sense and you’ll be fine.”

  Oookay.

  “Hey, the good news is I saw Buck earlier,” Em added. “He manages The Line. I’ll introduce you at some point, you can ask him about waitressing. I’m definitely not on board with you stripping, but waitressing could be a pretty good gig.”

  “Would you work there?” I asked her. Em burst out laughing, joined by Maggs and Dancer.

  “My dad would kill me before he let me work at The Line,” she said when she finally caught her breath again. “Or maybe his head would just explode? He’s still trying to convince me I shouldn’t work at all. He’d love it if I just stayed home and kept house for him, maybe did some charity work on the side. He hasn’t decided to join us in this century quite yet.”

  I thought about the tall, stern man I’d just met and had to smile. I could totally see him being overprotective like that.

  “Doesn’t he want grandkids some day?” I asked. “There’s a middle step, you know.”

  “I don’t think he’s thought that far ahead,” Em replied with a giggle.

  The whistle of a firework shooting off cut through everything, and we all looked up to watch an explosion of red, white, and blue above the courtyard.

  “Isn’t that illegal?” I asked, eyes wide.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dancer told me. “We’re so far out nobody gives a shit. And if they did, they’d just call the sheriff’s department, and we’ve got a good relationship with him.”

  “The Reapers get along with the cops?” I asked, stunned.

  “Not all of them,” Dancer said. “But the sheriff is a pretty good guy. What a lot of people don’t realize is that there’s always gangs trying to move into the area. The sheriff can’t begin to keep up with them. Even if he knows about them, he can’t do shit without evidence. The Reapers help keep some of those problems under control, in our own special way. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, no question. City cops are a different story, though. They hate us.”

  Another rocket shot up, this one exploding with a mighty flash and a bang. It wasn’t dark yet, but the light was fading enough for it to mess with my vision. When I stopped blinking from the bright light, I saw Ruger watching me from across the courtyard.

  “There he is,” I muttered to Maggs. “I haven’t seen him since we had our little blowup. You think I should go over?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Gotta face him sooner or later. Remember what we talked about—you lay it out, and if he won’t play, leave. You’ve got choices. Always.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ruger’s face was completely unreadable as I approached, and for one horrible moment I thought he might not talk to me.

  “Hey,” I said, feeling nervous. Seeing him should’ve pissed me off or maybe even scared me. My body didn’t get the memo, though, because standing close to him mostly turned me on. I think his scent was a big part of it—nothing got to me like tha
t hint of sweat and gun oil. He’d taken off his shirt, leaving only jeans, boots, and his cut. His tan told me he’d spent a lot of the summer that way.

  Then I caught a glimpse of that panther tat disappearing down into his pants and I shit you not, it made me feel a little light-headed. All that blood rushing downward, you know?

  “Hey,” he said. I tilted my head up to look at his face, reminded once again just how much physically larger he was than me. “So, we gonna fuck around here or just get to the point?”

  “Um … Not quite sure I follow,” I admitted, still off balance. What woman would seriously be able to pay attention, confronted with a body like that? Ruger grunted, exasperated.

  “You gonna follow my rules tonight?” he asked. “If not, you need to get your ass in your car and leave.”

  “I’ll follow the rules,” I said slowly, eyes catching on his chin. He hadn’t shaved that morning, leaving just enough stubble to make a light burn on a girl’s skin. “On one condition.”

  He raised a brow, clearly skeptical.

  “And what would that be?”

  “You tell me why you’re being so controlling,” I said, laying it out. The girls had been right. Either he was with me or he wasn’t, but one way or another I’d be taking charge of the situation. “Is it because you’re jealous and you want me to yourself, or because the Reapers are too dangerous?”

  He studied me for a moment, his face thoughtful. Then he seemed to come to some sort of decision.

  “C’mon,” he told me, and it wasn’t an invitation. He grabbed my hand and dragged me almost roughly across the courtyard, toward the large shop built against the back wall. Enclosed on three sides, the front was open to the elements, almost like a supersized carport.

  Inside the air was much cooler, and it gave a sense of privacy. One half of the building held bikes in varying states of repair, including several that seemed to be little more than frames. Counters lined the back, and every tool imaginable hung from the walls. There were also some larger pieces of power equipment, including a huge drill press, a grinding wheel, and others I couldn’t begin to identify. A track had been mounted on the ceiling, with a rolling hoist hanging from it.