Joanna Wylde - Reaper’s Property

Fuck with us and we will fuck you back.

Jeff wouldn’t be that stupid, would he?

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

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

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

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

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

Me: Horse, muss yu

Me: Why dont anser?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door slammed open and I winced.

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

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

“It’s important. I need money.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“What about Gary?”

That stopped me short.

“Gary?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not even a little bit.

Coeur d’Alene, Idaho

Sept. 16

Horse

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

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

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

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

Serena stopped, turning to look at him.

“You paying attention?”

He laughed and shook his head.

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

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

But what a bitch…

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

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

Damn, Marie’s fuckwad brother was an idiot.

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

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

Just thinking about shit like this made Horse feel old.

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

Horse didn’t see a happy ending.

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

Best case.

Worst case?

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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