Chaos: A Reapers MC Boxset

by Elizabeth Knox

  “You really wanted to bring me here on our first official date?” Raven clicks her tongue from the top of her mouth to the bottom, making a clucking noise. She must enjoy pullin’ my tail right now.

  Shit, it’s a little past midnight. We weren’t gonna find anything else open unless we drove straight to Missoula. “I’m tellin’ you, the peanut butter pie is bangin’ here. You trust me, don’t you?” I look into those captivating hazel eyes of hers and I’m surprised Cupid isn’t behind me shootin’ an arrow straight into my country ass.

  “I do, trust you, that is.” The way she says it makes me want to dig a little deeper. I didn’t expect her to even answer, but now she’s got me all curious.

  “Why do you? We’ve only seen each other once before now. You have no reason to trust me.”

  Raven glances away before bringing her eyes back to me. She taps her fingers on the linoleum table before she answers, “I don’t know. There’s just something about you I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it’s me trusting my gut, but I can tell you’re a decent guy.”

  A heavyset middle-aged woman approaches us with a notepad, obnoxiously chewin’ a piece of bubble gum. “You two ready to order yet? You’ve been yappin’ away the last ten minutes.”

  Raven’s eyes grow wide at the brash tone of our waitress and I can’t help but chuckle in response. There are a lot of people I’d tell off for speaking to me like that, however, I don’t feel like wasting my breath on a grumpy old bitch who probably hasn’t gotten laid in ten years.

  “We’ll have two slices of peanut butter pie with root beer floats, please,” I tell the rotten old bitch.

  “Is that—” she can’t finish her question because Raven interrupts her.

  “And a cheeseburger, medium-rare, with fries and onion rings. And . . .” Raven pauses for a moment and gets a really good look at our waitresses nametag, “Linda, you might want to think twice about being rude to us. You’re killing your tip with every bitchy thing you do.”

  Linda snaps open her jaw and struts right off behind the counter. Meanwhile, I’m smirkin’ at Raven like I’ve had a crush on her since I was a small child. This woman is too good to be true. She obviously doesn’t take shit from others. She’s tough as nails because I heard she didn’t even take any pain medicine when she was gettin' the bullet yanked out of her shoulder or during her recovery. To top it all off, if someone’s bein’ a complete asshole to her, she’ll tell them where to shove it. Fuck me sideways. She’s my damn wet dream.

  “Raven,” I warn, tryin’ to be a gentleman right now. I’ve rarely ever been one before, but this woman makes me want to be a better man. I’m not a piece of shit, but I know how to use a woman for her pussy. I won’t do that to Raven, though. She’s nowhere close to a clubwhore. This girl right here is precious, she’s my Baby Bird and I’ll treat her like the treasure she is—always.

  “What?” she asks with a devilish look in her eyes. Girl knows what she did and I don’t have to tell her. Shit, maybe she likes to play dumb. It could be a kink for all I know. I’m just sittin’ here trying my hardest not to get a hard-on.

  “You have no idea how hot that was, do you?”

  “What? That? I don’t put up with shit, Hawk. I did for a really long time and I know my worth. Plus, I’ll never go into a place where I plan on receiving services and get spoken to like that. Her customer service is shit and she’ll be lucky if she has a fuckin’ job tomorrow after I’m done with her.”

  I snicker, placing my hand on the table and grab hers. “Baby Bird, you’re teasin’ me talkin’ like that.”

  “How on earth is that teasing?”

  “‘Cause, it’s hot as fuck when you stick up for yourself.”

  Raven tosses her head back and busts out into a full belly laugh. “Oh, Hawk. You’re gonna cream your pants so much if that’s the case.”

  “I haven’t ever creamed my pants in all of my thirty-three years on this planet, sweetheart. And I’m not gonna start now,” I inform her.

  “Well, it’s about to change . . . and wow. I didn’t realize we had such a big age gap,” Raven mutters, looking a little bothered about it in my opinion.

  “It can’t be that big,” I respond.

  “We’re ten years apart, not that I mind. I just thought you were in your late twenties. You have a baby face and well . . . you’re kinda easy on the eyes.”

  “Easy on the eyes, hmm?” I cock a brow, grinnin’ at her.

  For the first time since we’ve been out, I don’t think about what I’m doing. I only act. I raise myself up on the seat and lean over the table, eliminating every inch of space between her lips and mine.

  “Here’s your pie,” we’re both so rudely interrupted by Linda droppin’ the pie directly on our heads just as we’re about to kiss. I feel the creaminess of the peanut butter filling sliding into my ear just as Raven shrieks like a girl going through the Rush to join her favorite sorority.

  I’ve never once been nasty to a woman, but boy does Linda sure have it coming now. I’m about to curse like a sailor and say some things my mom would be beatin’ my ass red for, but before I can say a thing, Raven has grabbed a glob of the pie on top of her head and jumps on Linda like she’s a fucking spider monkey.

  Linda crashes down onto the floor and I watch as Raven pries her mouth open like she’s a fuckin’ dentist. “You want some pie, bitch? Here, have some fuckin’ pie!”

  I stand in amazement but a dash of fear runs through me. She’s definitely one of a kind, that’s for damn sure. I don’t interfere and watch as Raven keeps puttin’ the pie Linda threw on the two of us into her mouth and see her forcefully close her mouth. “Swallow it, honey. No one likes a spitter.”

  “I think you’ve made your point, Baby Bird. Let’s get goin’. I’ll make you some food at the house,” I try to tell her, assuming she’s going to give me an earful but I’m pleasantly surprised when she stands up and takes my hand. Although she doesn’t stop there.

  Raven leans her head up and plants the sexiest kiss on me I’ve ever had. She runs a finger down the side of my face and dips it between our lips. The two of us share the combined flavor of the pie and tangle our tongues like they’re one. “Mmm, the pie isn’t too bad.” She giggles as she pulls away and we run out the door like two rebellious high schoolers.

  If tonight proves anything, it’s that we’re going to have one hell of a ride.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  And I need you. Not in the ways to survive, but in the ways that make life worth living

  ~JM Storm

  Raven

  It’s been almost a week since Hawk has been back and Matthew has been in rehab. I called the clinic yesterday and they told me he had a rough few days but has taken a positive turn. I hated to leave him there, but I knew in my heart the only way he’d get the help he truly needs is if he stayed.

  So many people have such a stigma when it comes to addiction. However, I’m much different than the rest. It’s probably because I have a family of addicts, and I don’t look at it like a choice. I firmly believe addiction is a contagion, a disease. It affects far too many people and the sad part is most of them are trying to feel better and resort to drugs. They go through trauma, whether it be physical, emotional or mental, and turn to drugs as their outlet, hoping to make all their troubles vanish. I have a feeling it’s how Matthew got started. After all, we both witnessed our Momma on a wide variety of drugs after Dad left.

  So many want to blame the people who are doing the drugs, but I can’t put all my anger there. Instead, I divide it up equally and give everyone a piece of the pie. Every man or woman who wants to profit from the suffering of others, the guys on the corner who hook them up with the drugs, and the chemists who create the product. There are so many more to add to my list, but I can’t keep festering about it. I have to get going soon.

  Somehow I still have a job after what happened with Al. But it was easy to figure out how I still have it. Bernie came into the ba
r a few nights later and told us a group of men jumped Al in town the other night. He gave me a rundown of the story and I see what Al did— he lied to his father. I’m not surprised the jerk would try to save his ass. Because knowing Bernie, if he heard about what happened, he’d come to me and Al and compare stories. Naturally, he’d want to side with his son, but if he spoke to any of the other women here he’d be told the bitter and ugly truth. Hell, maybe Al was trying to save his father from getting spoken about in town. Who the fuck knows.

  Hawk asked me yesterday if I wanted to leave sooner rather than later, and explained he only came up here to check on me. While I’d love to get ready to leave and be standing in the desert heat . . . I can’t. Not yet at least. There are too many loose ends up here.

  Matthew coming to me in such a genuine way was shocking, to say the least. The fact I don’t want to leave has nothing to do with my brother though. As far as I’m concerned, he’s in one of the safest possible places he could be. My reason for staying is much more personal.

  I want to see my Momma, but what I want more is to give her a taste of her own medicine. She exploited my brother when he was trying to get help, and now she wants help financially from me. Shit, two can play that game.

  I asked Hawk to give me a day or two to think about it. I needed time to gather my thoughts and figure out exactly how I wanted to handle this. Now I have an answer. I’m sitting on the futon he bought and put together in the room Frank and I have been sleeping in. I rise and head downstairs to where Hawk has been spending most of his days with his brothers.

  Fist is still stuck in the deepest pit of depression I’ve ever witnessed in my life. I’m hopeful one day he’ll get out of it, but everything is still so fresh. It's obvious he’s keeping everything pent up and not talking about it. From a personal level, I understand because I never wanted to talk to people when my life went to shit. In a way, Fist and I are the same because of it. However, some people can handle it and others cannot. I’m not saying Fist is weak in any way, shape, or form. I just see a man who’s struggling and doesn’t have to.

  Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I see Hawk chatting with Zorro. Of all the members, Zorro is the oldest besides Fist. I’d take a guess he might be in his late forties or early fifties, and I only say that because of the stress lines on his forehead. From what I can tell, there’s not a gray hair on his head.

  “Hey there, Raven. How you feelin’ today?” Zorro asks. His eyes scan over my body, but not in a sexual way. Instead, it’s as if he’s assessing me for damages like a doctor would a patient.

  “I’m doing okay. I’m a little tight and tender, but it’ll get better with time I’m sure,” I respond, cautiously optimistic. I didn’t exactly follow a proper treatment plan when it came to my recovery. I’m sure many people who have suffered gunshots go through countless weeks of physical therapy, but I don’t have insurance so I’m handling it the best way I can.

  “When you start to feelin’ better will you do me a favor, and I mean when you’re really feelin’ better, hun? Don’t want you jumpin’ the gun and hurtin’ yourself,” Zorro adds. I raise a brow, wondering what kinda favor he wants me to do.

  “Alright,” I reluctantly say.

  “When you’re feeling up to it, go to the chiropractor. They work wonders, hun, and usually, you only have to pay forty or fifty bucks per visit. They don’t need you to have insurance and your entire body will feel amazing after you go.”

  I’ve never been to a chiropractor before but I’ve heard amazing things about them. I think I remember one incorporating physical therapy into their practice in Billings, but I can’t recall for certain.

  “Okay, I’ll give it a go in a couple of months,” I respond to Zorro and look over to Hawk, “I wanted to chat with you about our conversation from yesterday. I’ve had time to think about it and I’ve made up my mind.”

  “And that’s my cue to leave,” Zorro chuckles. Rising from his chair, he walks over to the coat rack and slides his jacket on, exiting the Monroe family home.

  “Do you want to talk here or go somewhere a little more private?” Hawk asks.

  I shrug. “It doesn’t really matter, whatever makes you more comfortable.”

  Hawk stands up. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

  I don’t know why but fear rolls through my body when he says he wants privacy. I doubt it’s because of anything bad, however, my anxiety always wants to make me think something awful is about to happen. It’s mind over matter, though, and I know it can’t be as bad as my mind is making it out to be. Now I have to follow him and we need to get this stressful conversation over with.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A diamond is just a piece of charcoal that handled stress exceptionally well

  ~Unknown

  Hawk

  Raven always gives the impression she doesn’t mind if people overhear our conversation, but I’m not a stupid man. Women always want privacy, and if the man doesn’t take the initiative to find it, he’ll be in the dog house later. Or, it’ll come up in an argument six weeks later. I’ve been around long enough to know this shit.

  I take Raven back upstairs to Ashley’s old bedroom, where I’ve been sleeping on a crappy futon I bought from a consignment shop in town. It was only fifty bucks so I really can’t complain, but I don’t think it was worth it. I bet cavemen slept better on the ground than on this bumpy thing.

  After we’re both inside, I make sure the door is shut firmly behind us. “Did Frank leave?” I ask, not seeing him go out the front door earlier.

  She nods. “Yeah, he took an extra shift and borrowed my car. Said he want to get as much money as he can before we all make the trek down to Vegas. He’s determined to help split gas money with us and all that. I told him I could cover it but he doesn’t want to be the kinda friend who’s a mooch.”

  Whoa. “Wait, are you planning on driving down to Vegas?” Please, if there is any sort of God out there let her say no. I’d much rather choose having my ass and back screaming at me for weeks afterward versus getting motion sick in a car. I’d never tell her this, but if we have to drive I’m gonna end up vomiting across her entire dashboard.

  “How else am I gonna get Victoria down there?” I almost burst into laughter at hearing the name she has for her car. Usually, it’s a move men pull on their babies. Never have I heard a woman do it before.

  “Flyin’ is a much easier option,” I start to say, totally going off-topic from where our conversation was headed.

  Raven smirks, but it’s obvious in the way she purses her lips she’s uncomfortable. “Yes, it is. But I’m taking my car down to Vegas. I’ll be able to haul everything I own in the car. Frank needs to figure out how he’ll get all his stuff down there, though. He has a few boxes of stuff we won’t be able to fit in my Mazda.”

  Now, this is completely selfish of me but I’m about to give her an offer she won’t be able to refuse. “How many boxes is it?” I ask.

  She furrows her brows together. “I’m thinkin’ about ten to fifteen max.”

  “Okay, so why don’t you and I fly to Vegas and Frank can drive your car down. Without us being in the car, he’ll have plenty of room for his stuff.”

  “You know, it’s not a bad idea. I’ll talk to him about it later and see if he’d be comfortable with it. I don’t believe he’s ever flown before so he may prefer it, but before I speak to him we need to figure out when we’re leaving for Vegas,” she says.

  “Yeah, that would be a good idea.” I’ve been wondering what the hell she was gonna say for the last two days. Honestly, I don’t want to stay up here any longer than necessary. It might make me seem like a dick, but this club isn’t as I remember it. While some of us have more hope than others, it seems broken and I don’t know who will be the one to fix it.

  “I want to leave as soon as I finish up some business with my mother. I’m thinking maybe a week or so. It could be less but there’s no way of knowing. I’m trying to give y
ou an estimate here. I hope that’s okay.”

  I place my hand over Raven’s. “That’s perfectly fine. I have a few things I need to do around here too. As a matter of fact, I need to talk to Ashley. Kat asked a favor of me and I haven’t found a good moment to speak with Ashley when no one else is around. She hasn’t come up here yet, though . . . so she must still be at her and Blackjack’s place. If I’m lucky, I might be able to get to her before her house is flooded with people.”

  Much like Fist’s house, Blackjack and Ashley have taken in a few people. I know for sure Zane has been there. And Saffron’s daughter Sydney is there as well. I thought that’s kinda odd considering Fist and Saffron were an item. Fist is more like her step-father than anything. Kade had given us all a short rundown of what happened and Zane ended up taking Sydney into his custody since Fist is incapable of caring for her right now.

  “Oh, what kinda favor?” Raven asks, pressing her brows together. Raven doesn’t know Kat so as far as she knows, the chick could be flirting with me. It's cute to see her getting a little bit jealous.

  “She wants me to talk to Ashley about Fist. Kat is Fist’s niece, and she’s Damon’s ol’ lady. He’s the Prez of the Vegas charter.”

  “Ah, okay. Well, you get going and I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you in a few hours. Are you workin’ tonight?” I ask, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Nope. I’m off today and thank goodness for it. I’m exhausted.” Raven’s been working extra shifts just like Frank. The two of them definitely want to get as much extra cash as possible before they leave. It’s smart as shit.

  “Good. Maybe we can have some alone time later.”