by Joanna Wylde
What I saw shocked me.
There were five men standing around the room, none of them guys I recognized but all wearing Reapers’ cuts. They stood around a bed with one woman on it, and she was getting fucked—seriously fucked—by a man standing at the edge of the bed, pants just pushed down, hands holding her tight around the hips.
“Harder, baby!” she yelled, giving a little howl and arching her back.
“Jesus, can’t believe this bitch,” muttered one of the guys, and I recognized his voice. Max. I saw him now. He’d been turned away from me before. I couldn’t move. I just stood watching as the man at the foot of the bed finished with a grunt, then pulled out and stepped aside. Max stepped forward to take his place.
Oh my god, she was doing all of them. I studied her face, wondering why she wasn’t screaming for them to get off her, but if anything she looked satisfied. Not so much sexually satisfied but triumphant. I shook my head, backing away and shuffling down the hallway, feeling disgusted and sick. Horse might not have been in there, but this was his clubhouse and his club. Did he know about stuff like this? Did it happen often? I couldn’t wrap my head around it, didn’t want to wrap my head around it. I just wanted to run down to my car and get in and drive as far and as fast as I could.
But I remembered Jeff’s email. I couldn’t do that. They might find me, or they might find him. They could even go after Mom. She was stuck in jail, and God only knew what kind of connections guys like this had in jail. I’d watched Oz on Netflix last winter, I’d seen how prisons worked. Were jails the same way? I didn’t think so, but could I bet Mama’s life on that? You can do this, I chanted under my breath. You can do this, you’re strong and smart and you’re going to figure everything out. Just put on your big-girl panties and get on with it.
I continued down the hall, taking deep breaths and forcing myself to stay calm. It was a lot warmer on the second floor, which felt incredible. I was still freezing and shivering in my jacket and blanket, but I’d survive. I’d already survived losing my dad, not to mention Gary. I walked into the game room to see a couple sitting on the couch, very close to each other. Their posture was intimate, like people who’d known each other for years and were comfortable together. The woman was laughing.
It was Horse and some girl I didn’t recognize.
“Just wondering who’d win if you got into it with the old ladies,” Horse was saying to her. “I’m not sure.”
She burst out laughing even harder, snorting and spilling her beer. Horse chuckled, grabbing the beer and fumbling around on the couch. I saw him lean into her, rubbing her chest, his hands disappearing lower. The woman giggled and slapped at him.
“You’re just trying to cop a feel, you dirty bastard!” she exclaimed. He grinned at her.
“Yeah, you know me. Always looking for my next lay.”
Wow. The cold in my body was nothing compared to the ice filling my heart. Jeff was right. I didn’t know this man and I certainly couldn’t trust him. He’d promised. I’d been an idiot and now I had to stay with him and do what he said and pretend not to know he might have murdered women and children in some remote village in Afghanistan. I felt myself starting to panic, so I clamped down on my emotions, withdrawing deep inside where I’d be safe. I couldn’t even run away and hide—I had nowhere to go. Then I spoke.
“I can see why you t-t-t-told me to wait upst-t-t-t-tairs,” I said, startled by how much my teeth chattered when I spoke. Horse turned and looked at me, his face hardening, eyes full of guilt. I wondered why he bothered.
“Well, shit,” he muttered. The woman next to him looked rapidly between us, eyebrows raised.
“I take it this is the old lady?” she asked.
“Fuck,” said Horse, pushing up from the couch so hard it slid back a foot across the old wooden floor, stalking toward me. I thought maybe I should run but I couldn’t seem to move. He grabbed my shoulders and shook them, punctuating his words. “I told you to stay in your room. What are you doing down here? You realize what could happen to you at a party like this? Jesus!”
I didn’t reply, just let him shake me and mused at how truly insane my life had become.
“What’s wrong with you?” he said finally, anger disappearing as he reached out and felt my face. “Shit, you’re freezing! What the fuck? Talk to me, Marie.”
“M-m-my wind-d-dow is st-tuck,” I managed to say. “I t-tried to c-c-call you.”
He dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone, punching it on and finding the notifications. He winced.
“Shit,” he said, pulling me into his arms, rubbing my back hard. “I couldn’t hear it. I’m so sorry, I can’t believe how cold you are. You need to get warmed up. Serena, run to the office and grab the apartment keys. Meet me upstairs.”
He swung me up into his arms and carried me back to the third floor. Thankfully we didn’t go back down the long hallway, past the crazy woman and the group of men taking turns screwing her. I don’t think I could’ve handled that. The woman—Serena—was fast, because she came rushing up with the keys right behind us. Horse stopped by a room on the other end of the hallway from my original one, waiting impatiently as she fumbled the door open. He set me down on the bed and stripped me methodically, ignoring my protests. Then I was totally naked and under the covers.
“Go down to the room on the far end and get her stuff,” he said to Serena. “All of it, bring it down here and then lock up. We’ll deal with the window situation tomorrow.”
Serena disappeared and I wanted to protest. I didn’t want Horse’s whore touching my things. I bit my lip, remembering Jeff’s email. Horse killed people. Maybe women like me. Children. I thought about his guns, how easily he handled them, how he’d made me practice for hours with my little .22. I remembered our first night together, when we’d watched the Johnny Depp flick and he’d talked about how the hand-to-hand combat was all wrong.
I guess he’d know.
Horse crawled into bed beside me, buck-naked, spooning me and wrapping around my body like a big, warm blanket. My body craved his heat, soaking it up even as my mind stayed cool and detached. The more I warmed up the harder I shivered until my jaw hurt from clenching my teeth and I ached. Serena bustled in with my things at some point, then closed the door and disappeared. The entire time Horse made soothing noises and rubbed me softly, and for once he didn’t try to touch my breasts or reach between my legs. Finally I stopped shivering and I drowsed.
“Babe,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head softly. “Babe,” he said again, shaking me gently. I stirred against him, and he rolled me over and onto my back, rising over me on his elbows. “Why was the window open? What happened?”
He sounded so worried, so loving. Would a murderer be able to fake that kind of emotion? But how many times had I looked at Horse and thought he was more like two different men—good and bad—stuck in one body? I couldn’t explore that right now, I couldn’t let him know what I’d found out.
“I just needed some fresh air,” I said, deliberately keeping my voice soft and weak. It wasn’t much of a stretch. “It got stuck and I couldn’t get it closed again. The room got colder and colder and I waited too long before I left to get help. It’s okay, I’m fine, Horse. Honestly.”
“Why are you always saying that to me?” he asked, although it seemed like he was talking to himself. “You’re so strong, always strong. You shouldn’t have to be that way. I should’ve been there for you. I’m so sorry, babe.”
I shook my head, closing my eyes and turning away from him. His body felt good on mine, strong and safe like always. I felt his penis harden and his hips flexed, almost involuntarily. The achingly familiar chemistry between us came to life and my nipples tightened as my legs shifted restlessly. He started kissing me near my ear, sucking and licking his way down my neck toward my breast, sending tendrils of sensation racing through me. When he sucked my nipple into his mouth I cried out, then reached down and grabbed his hair, pulling him away.
“I can’t do this right now,” I whispered. He sighed and rolled over next to me.
“It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice firm. I looked over at him, panicked. In addition to everything else, could he read my mind or something? How did he know what I’d found out? Was he monitoring my phone?
“Serena is an old friend,” he said. “I’ve known her for years. We’ve slept together, I won’t lie to you about that, but nothing was happening between us tonight. We were just joking around.”
My eyes opened wider as I processed what he’d said. Serena. The woman on the couch. I felt hysterical laughter bubbling up in my throat and I swallowed it down painfully. This was a good thing, I realized. I could use this as an excuse to be angry with him. He expected it, he deserved it, and he wouldn’t have to know that my mind was way too full of visions of him killing Afghani children to give a flying fuck about him and Serena.
“You promised,” I said, letting the tears I’d been holding back well up in my eyes. Might as well let them out while I had an excuse. They started falling and I gulped. “You promised that you wouldn’t be with those other women, the night we decided to give this a shot. You lied to me.”
“I haven’t been with any other women,” Horse said, his voice a mixture of frustration and something else I couldn’t identify. “I was talking to an old friend. She’s got someone else in her life and I’ve got you. I was just killing time, waiting until it got late enough for me to leave and come back up to you.”
“Can we not talk about this right now?” I asked, trying to roll away from him. He held me, taking my chin and making me look at him.
“Fight with me all you want, babe,” he said. “But you don’t turn away from me. Let’s talk about this.”
“I don’t want to talk,” I whispered, feeling panic rise again. He searched my face, mouth hardening.
“Is there something else?” he asked. “Have you heard from your brother? Tell me. I’m here for you, Marie.”
Shit.
“Let me check my email,” I said quickly. I pulled away from him and started to get up, but he stopped me, getting up and digging my phone out of my jeans pocket himself.
“Here,” he said, handing it to me. I turned it on and clicked on the email app—the one linked to my main account. There it was, the fake message Jeff had promised.
“He wrote,” I said.
“Read it to me.”
“He says, ‘So sorry about all this, sis. I got your message about coming in and talking to the Reapers. I’m not sure I can do that. No offense, but I’m pretty sure they’re planning to kill me. Talk to them, find out if they’re willing to make a deal and get back to me. I love you. Jeff’ That’s all of it.”
“About what I expected,” Horse said slowly, climbing back into bed. “I’m not surprised he doesn’t trust us. He’s scared and he should be. Odds are good he’s not gonna survive this. But there’s a huge difference between staying in bed with the Jacks or trying to make peace with us. He needs to wrap his head around that.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.
Horse rolled onto his side and propped his head up on one elbow looking down at me.
“You,” he said.
“Me?”
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Horse said, reaching over and tracing the curve of my cheek. “The Jacks will. No question of it. He should know that.”
“You said they were trying to take me back to him,” I said softly. “He’s trying to save me.”
“The Jacks will get you if they can, but their record with women isn’t too good. Three years ago Deke had a niece, Gracie, get in trouble with them. His old lady’s sister’s kid. No connection to the club, other than that. She decided to go to school down in California and turns out she wasn’t far from a Jacks charter. Started dating a guy who seemed nice enough, but he was one of their hangarounds. Apparently she mentioned her uncle was in the Reapers at some point. She went to a party with him and they raped her. All of them. One big fucking train, nearly killed her. They finished her off by carving ‘DJ’ on her forehead. Dumped her by the side of the road. Sent Deke a picture afterward taken with her own phone.”
I swallowed, feeling sick. Then I thought about the woman on the second floor, and wondered if she’d finished with those men yet. What if she wanted to stop halfway through? Would they let her?
“What about downstairs?” I asked, mouth getting away from my brain. “What makes that any different?”
Horse cocked his head.
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a woman downstairs, I saw her in a room with a bunch of guys on the second floor. They were taking turns…”
“Fuck…” Horse muttered, dropping onto his back and running his hands through his hair. “What else is gonna fall to shit tonight? I’m sorry you saw that, babe. I didn’t think about that at all. Shit.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Are they going to hurt her?”
“No!” he said, sitting up and looking down at me. “Shit, no, I can’t believe you have to ask that. We’re not a bunch of rapists, Marie. Shit. If she’s in there, she chose to be there. Fuck if I know why, but women do it all the time. It’s a thing with some of the sweet butts, like counting coup or something. I can’t exactly defend it as upstanding behavior, but that’s nothing like what they did to Gracie. They tore her up so bad, I can’t even explain it. She’ll never have kids. She tried to kill herself twice before they got her into some kind of psychiatric facility. Damn.”
He looked so genuinely upset that I believed him.
“How often does it happen?” I asked softly. “What else goes on at your parties?”
“All kinds of shit happens at parties,” Horse said, sighing heavily. “But that’s really none of your business. It’s wilder tonight because there’s blood in the air, that’s all. Nobody’s getting hurt and nobody’s here against their will. That’s all you need to know.”
“Have you done it?”
He shook his head, although whether he was denying it or just making it clear I couldn’t expect an answer, I couldn’t tell.
“Are we really gonna do this?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Dig up everything either of us has ever done? I thought we were over that. I’m not a saint, babe, and I’ve never pretended to be. But I promised you that I wouldn’t cheat on you and I haven’t. I won’t. I trust that you won’t either. Isn’t that good enough?”
I nodded, wondering if killing children fell under the category of “not being a saint”.
“You need to write back to Jeff,” he said abruptly. “The faster we work through this the better.”
I nodded and grabbed my phone. It took about three minutes to type out the message, which he read over before hitting send. It was simple enough—I asked Jeff to call me and told him I was safe with the Reapers but that the Jacks were dangerous. I was afraid of them.
I set the phone down on the little bedside table. Horse reached over, pulling me to him, kissing me as his fingers reached between my legs. I resisted at first, turning my head away, tensing. He just rubbed up and down, slowly and steadily, as he leaned over and started on my breasts. He licked at them, sucking my nipples in and then flicking his tongue until I twisted against him, wanting more even though I despised myself for it.
Jeff claimed the man was a murderer. Yet when Horse hooked two of his fingers deep inside me I crumbled, spreading my legs and mewling for more, pumping my hips against his fingers. He slid farther down the bed, taking my knees and pushing them up and over his shoulders as his mouth covered my clit. Horse had the tongue of a devil, sliding around my little nub, alternating between teasing it and fluttering, then moving to suck just strong enough to almost hurt me but not quite. The entire time he worked me over inside until I twisted and moaned against him, hovering on the edge of climax.
That’s when he stuck his finger in my ass.
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He’d been doing this more and more and while I found it startling, I also enjoyed it. In fact, he’d been sticking in two and even three fingers, stretching me and shaping me, usually while he played my clit. Other times he’d put me on my hands and knees, thrusting into me from behind with his cock in my pussy and his fingers in my ass. I knew he wanted anal sex. Sometimes he rubbed the head of his cock against my opening, pressing lightly. He’d always been incredibly careful, but I hadn’t let him stick it in me. To be honest, our sex life was so great I didn’t think it needed much in the way of improvement, and his size scared me a little.
But there was something different that night. Looking back, I wonder if he sensed just how wrong things were, despite my attempts to reassure him. He worked me over hard with his tongue, making me come three times, leaving me limp and quivering, every muscle in my body loose and pliant. I wasn’t thinking about Jeff or the party or anything other than the sense of completion and sensual satisfaction he gave me. That’s when Horse rolled me onto my stomach, then lifted my hips and pushed a pillow under them. I stayed limp as his hands spread my cheeks, and he pressed lightly against my opening with his finger. It slipped in easily.
“I want this,” he said softly, leaning over and kissing me between the shoulder blades. “I need to own you. All of you. Make you scream and realize that you belong to me and I belong to you and nothing else matters. I can’t let you slip away from me, babe.”
A second finger joined the first and I wiggled my hips a little, feeling the stretch and the pressure. He guided his penis into my vagina, sliding in and out, the position perfect for reaching the spongy spot on my inner front wall. His fingers mirrored his penis, rubbing me and stretching me from behind. Then he pulled his fingers out and something cool and wet dripped into my opening. His fingers rubbed the lube in deep, warming it, and then he pulled his cock free from my body. He fumbled for a minute and I heard the tear of a condom wrapper.