REAPER’S LEGACY by Joanna Wylde
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PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF JOANNA WYLDE
“A really good bad-boy biker book! Exactly what I’ve been looking to read.”
—Maryse’s Book Blog
“Joanna Wylde’s writing has a way of sucking the reader into the Reaper’s MC world, with quirky characters and an enthralling plot that took on a personality of its own … I would highly, highly recommend this book to readers who love romance, but are also
looking for something different. This was a very enjoyable book, and trust me when I say, you will not be disappointed.”
—The Little Black Book Blog
“It’s hot, explosive, intense, and will leave you tingling in all the right places … For fans of true biker books, this is one not to be
missed.”
—Under the Covers Book Blog
“Reaper’s Property was a perfect mix: edgy, sexy, and fun. I love that Joanna Wylde really did her research with this book. She didn’t just write a love story and throw in some hot bikers.”
—The Book List Reviews
“Dying for more books in this series.”
—Smexy Books
Author’s Note
After writing Reaper’s Property (the first book in this series, although Reaper’s Legacy stands alone), the most common questions I heard from readers were about my research and the characters’ names. Specifically, how accurate are the books, and why do some of the names sound almost silly? The
answer is that I started my career in journalism and researched outlaw motorcycle club culture
extensively for my stories. This included talking to people in club life, many of whom answered
questions for me throughout the writing process. The Reaper’s Legacy manuscript was reviewed and corrected by a woman attached to an outlaw MC.
Many readers have questioned the accuracy of the road names I chose, feeling that they aren’t fierce or intimidating enough (Horse, Picnic, Bam Bam, etc.). Some have suggested that no real badass
would be called “Picnic,” but they don’t realize that road names are often whimsical or flat-out funny. Not every biker has a name like “Ripper” or “Killer.” The “Picnic” in my book is named after a real man—although his name wasn’t just “Picnic.” It was actually “Picnic Table.” The majority of the
names in my book were taken from real life.
Ultimately, this book is a romantic fantasy, which means I didn’t let the reality of MC culture get in the way of the story I wanted to tell. If you are interested in learning more about real women living in MCs, I highly recommend the book Biker Chicks: The Magnetic Attraction of Women to Bad Boys and Motorbikes by Arthur Veno and Edward Winterhalder. The book explores stereotypes about women and motorcycle clubs by allowing real women to tell their own stories, rather than drawing
conclusions based on secondary information provided by male sources.
Prologue
EIGHT YEARS AGO
COEUR D’ALENE, IDAHO
SOPHIE
“I’m gonna stick it in now.”
Zach’s voice was rough and full of urgent need.
I smelled him all around me, sweaty and hungry and so beautiful I could die. After tonight he’d be
mine for real. His hand reached down between us, guiding the round, rubbery head of his penis as it
nudged my opening. It felt weird. He pushed at me and I guess he missed, because it hit me too high
and—
“Ouch! Shit, Zach, that hurts. I think you’re doing it wrong.”
He stopped immediately and grinned down at me, the gap between his front teeth teasing. Holy
crap, I loved that grin. I’d had the biggest crush on Zach since we were freshmen, but he never noticed me, not until a couple of months ago. My folks didn’t let me out much, but in July I’d managed to get permission to stay with Lyssa for a night and we’d snuck out to a party. Zach had homed in, and we’d been a couple ever since.
I’d gotten really good at sneaking out.
“Sorry, babe,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss me. I softened immediately, loving the feel of his lips ghosting across mine. He adjusted himself and started sliding into me again, slow and steady. This time he didn’t miss, and I stiffened as he stretched me open wide.
Then he hit a barrier and paused.
I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He looked back down at me and I knew right then and there I’d never love anyone half so much as I loved Zachary Barrett.
“Ready?” he whispered. I nodded.
He shoved into me and I squealed, pain ripping between my legs. Zach kept me pinned with his hips as I gasped, shocked. Then he pulled out and I tried to catch my breath. Before I could, though, he’d thrust back into me. Hard. Ouch.
“Holy shit, you’re tight,” he muttered. He pushed himself up on his hands, throwing his head back as he pumped into my body, over and over, eyes closed and face straining with hunger.
I don’t know what I’d expected.
I mean, I wasn’t stupid. I knew it wouldn’t be perfect the first time, no matter what the romance
books said. And it didn’t hurt that much. But it sure as shit didn’t feel good, either.
Zach moved faster, and I turned my head on the couch to look across the small apartment. His
brother’s, apparently. We had it for the night—it was supposed to be our special, perfect time
together. I’d expected flowers or soft music and wine or something. Stupid. Zach had pizza and some beer from his brother’s fridge.
“Ouch,” I muttered again as he paused, face twisting.
“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he gasped. I felt his penis throb deep inside, almost twitching. It was
weird. Really weird. And nothing like I’d seen in movies—not even a little bit.
Was that it?
Huh …
“Oh, f*ck that’s good.”
The apartment door opened as Zach collapsed between my legs, oblivious to the world. I couldn’t
do anything but watch in horror as a man walked in.
I didn’t know him, but he couldn’t have been Zach’s brother. He didn’t look anything like Zach,
who was taller than me, but not by a whole lot. This guy was really tall, and muscular in the way men who work with their hands get from heavy lifting on the job.
He wore a black leather vest with patches over a ratty T-shirt and jeans that had streaks of dark
motor oil or grease or something. A half rack of beer dangled from one hand. His hair was short and
dark. Almost military. His lip was pierced and he wore two rings in his left ear and one in his right,
like a pirate. Eyebrow was pierced, too. His features were bluntly handsome, but nobody would ever
call him pretty. Big black boots covered his feet, and the chain from his wallet hung low across his
hip. One of his arms had a full-sleeve tattoo. The other had a skull with crossed blades behind it.
He stopped in the doorway and looked us over, slowly shaking his head.
“I told you what I’d do if you broke into my place again,” he said quietly. Zach popped up and his
face went white. His entire body—with one notable exception—stiffened. I felt that exception slither
out of me, along with some fluid, and realized we hadn’t even bothered to put a towel down or
anything.
Ewww.
But how was I supposed to know we’d need a towel?
“Shit,” Zach said, his voice a tight squeak. “Ruger, I can explain—”
“Don’t f*ckin’ explain,” Ruger said, pushing forward into the room. He slammed the door shut
behind him and walked over to the couch. I tried to hide my head in Zach’s chest, more ashamed and embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life.
Flowers. Were flowers too much to ask?
“Jesus Christ, what is she? Twelve?” Ruger asked, giving the couch a kick. It shuddered under me, and Zach sat up, pulling away from my body. I shrieked and pushed my hands down between us, trying to cover myself from his brother’s gaze.
Shit. SHIT.
Then it got worse.
The brother—Rooger? whatever the hell kind of name that was—looked right at me as he leaned across my body, grabbing a folded blanket from the back of the couch.
He tossed it over my crotch.
I moaned and died a little inside. My legs were still spread wide, my skirt up high around my waist. He’d seen everything. Everything. This was supposed to be the most romantic night of my life and now I just wanted to go home and cry.
“I’m takin’ a shower and by the time I’m done, you need to be gone,” Ruger said, getting in Zach’s face. My boyfriend flinched. “And stay the f*ck outta my apartment.”
With that, he walked down the hall to the bathroom, banging the door shut. Seconds later I heard the shower come on. Zach jumped up, muttering.
“A*shole. He’s such a goddamn a*shole.”
“Was that your brother?”
“Yeah. He’s a prick.”
I sat up and straightened my shirt. Thank God I hadn’t taken it off. Zach loved to touch my breasts,
but we’d actually moved pretty fast once we got started. I managed to get to my feet, holding the
blanket in front of me while I pulled down my skirt. I had no idea where my panties had gone, but a
quick look around didn’t reveal them. I leaned over the couch, digging in the pillows, hunting. No
luck, but I managed to stick my hand in the disgusting wet spot we’d left behind.
I felt like such a whore.
“F*ck!” Zach yelled behind me. My head jerked up—how could things possibly get any worse?
“Holy f*ck, I cannot f*cking believe this!”
“What’s wrong?”
“The condom broke,” he said, eyes wide. “The f*cking condom broke. This has got to be the worst night of my life. You better not be pregnant.”
The air froze in my lungs. Apparently things could get worse.
Zach held the broken rubber out toward me. I stared down at the nasty thing, not quite believing my bad luck.
“Did you do it wrong?” I whispered. He shrugged, not answering.
“It’s probably okay,” I said after another long pause. “I mean, my period just ended. You can’t get pregnant that soon after your period, right?”
“Um, yeah, probably,” he said, flushing and looking away. “I didn’t really pay attention to that shit in class. I mean, I always use a condom. Always. They never break, not even—”
My breath caught and I felt hot tears well up in my eyes.
“You told me you’d only done it once before,” I said softly. He winced.
“I’ve never done it with anyone I loved before,” he said, dropping the broken rubber and grabbing for my hand. I tried to tug away. The mess on his fingers grossed me out, but when he pulled me in tight and wrapped his arms around me, I caved.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he muttered, rubbing my back as I snuffled against his shirt. “It’ll be
fine. We’re fine. And I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. I was afraid you wouldn’t stick with me if
you knew I’d been stupid before. I don’t care about any other girls and I never will. I just want to be
with you.”
“Okay,” I said, pulling myself together. He shouldn’t have lied, but at least he owned up to it. Mature couples worked through hard stuff all the time, right? “Um, we should probably get out of here. Your brother looked pretty pissed. I thought he gave you a key?”
“My stepmom has an emergency key,” he said, shrugging. “I took it. He was supposed to be out of town. Grab the pizza.”
“Should we leave some for your brother?”
“Screw him. And he’s my stepbrother. We’re not even really related.” Oookay.
I found my shoes and slipped them on, then got my purse and the pizza. I still didn’t know where my panties were, but just then I heard the shower stop.
We needed to get out.
Zach glanced over at the bathroom, then winked at me as he grabbed the half rack off the counter. “C’mon,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door.
“You’re stealing his beer?” I asked, feeling a little sick. “Seriously?”
“F*ck him,” Zach said, narrowing his eyes at me. “He’s a total dick, thinks he’s better than
everyone else. Him and his stupid f*cking motorcycle club. They’re all a*sholes and criminals, and he is, too. Probably stole it in the first place. And he can buy more anytime he wants, not like us. We’ll take it to Kimber’s. Her parents are in Mexico.”
We jogged down the apartment complex stairs, then crossed the parking lot to his truck. It was kind of old, but at least the full-size Ford’s king cab had plenty of room. We’d take it out sometimes, just the two of us, and spend hours lying in the bed under the stars, kissing and laughing. Other times we packed three or four couples in, all sitting on each other’s laps.
Zach hadn’t done such a great job tonight, but that wasn’t his fault. Sometimes life just didn’t follow the plan. I was still crazy about him, though.
“Hey,” I said, stopping him as he opened the driver’s-side door. I turned him around and popped up
onto my toes, kissing him long and slow. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, babe,” Zach said, smoothing my hair back behind my ear. I melted when he did
that—made me feel all safe and protected. “Now let’s go kill some of those beers. Shit, f*ckin’ crazy night. My brother is such a dick.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed as I hauled ass around the truck.
So losing my virginity hadn’t been perfect and beautiful and all that. But at least it was over and Zach loved me.
Too bad about the panties, though.
I’d bought them special and everything.
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
RUGER
“F*ck, it’s my mom. I gotta grab that,” Ruger yelled across the table at Mary Jo, holding up his cell. The band hadn’t started yet, but the place was still packed, and he couldn’t hear a damned thing. He didn’t get out much since he’d started prospecting the Reapers. Earning a place in the club was a fulltime job by itself, and he pulled shifts at the pawnshop, too.
Ma knew that, and she wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.
“Hey, lemme get outside,” he said loudly into the phone, walking toward the door with long strides. People got the f*ck out of his way, and he bit back a smile. He’d always been a big guy, but now that he wore an MC cut?
F*ckers practically dove under the tables when they saw the club patches on his vest. “’Kay, I’m outside,” he said, moving away from the crowd in front of the Ironhorse. “Jesse, Sophie needs you,” his mom said.
“What do you mean?” he asked, peering at his bike, parked down the street. Was that guy getting close to it? Oh, not gonna happen …
“So, are you going?” she said. Shit. She’d been talking. “F*ck, sorry, Ma. Missed what you said.”
“I just got a panicked phone call from Sophie,” his mom repeated. “Stupid kids. She went to a
kegger with your brother and now she thinks she might be in labor. He’s too drunk to drive her and
she’s having contractions, so she can’t drive herself. I’m gonna kill him. I can’t believe he’d take her somewhere like that, especially now.”
“Are you f*ckin’ kidding me?”
“Jesse, don’t use that language with me,” she snapped. “Can you help her or not? I’m in Spokane and it’ll take at least an hour to get there. I’ll start making more phone calls if you can’t do it.”
“Wait, isn’t it too early?”
“A little too early, yes,” she replied, her voice tense. “I wanted to call an ambulance but she insists
it’s just Braxton Hicks. Ambulance rides cost a fortune, you know, and she’s scared of the bills. She
wants to go home but I think she might need the hospital. Can you get her or not? I can meet you there
as soon as I hit town. I’ve got a real bad feeling about this, Jess. Didn’t sound like Braxton Hicks to
me.”
“Yeah, of course,” he replied, wondering what the hell “Braxton Hicks” were. He saw Mary Jo come out of the bar, smiling at him ruefully. She knew all about sudden phone calls and changes in plans.
“Where are they?”
He got the information, then hung up, walking over to his date and shrugging his shoulders. This
sucked. He wanted to get laid, and not at the clubhouse. Some f*ckin’ privacy would be nice for once, and Mary Jo was wild as they got.
“Club business?” she asked lightly. Thank f*ck she wasn’t a drama queen.
“Nope, family,” he replied. “My a*shole stepbrother knocked up his girlfriend and now she’s going
into labor. Needs a ride to the hospital. I’m gonna go get her.”
Mary Jo’s eyes widened.
“You should leave,” she said quickly. “I’ll take a cab home. Shit, that sucks … How old is she?” “Just turned seventeen.”
“Damn,” she said, shivering with genuine horror. “I can’t imagine having a kid that young. Call me later, okay?”
He gave her a fast but hard kiss. She reached down and offered his cock a quick squeeze. Ruger groaned, feeling himself stiffen. He really needed to get laid …
Instead, he pulled away and walked over to his bike.
The party was halfway to Athol, off in some field that he vaguely remembered visiting when he was in
high school. He found Zach’s truck easy enough. Sophie stood next to it, looking scared in the summer
twilight. Then her face tightened and she hunched over her giant belly, groaning. Now she looked
terrified.
Ruger parked his bike and realized he’d have to leave it in the field—no way she could ride with him. F*cking great. Asshat little shits would probably run over it or something. Sophie’s face was white with strain, though. No room to f*ck around. She needed to go in the truck, and clearly she needed to go now. Ruger shook his head, glancing around for his brother.
He still couldn’t figure out why a smart, beautiful girl like her would pick Zach, of all people. Sophie had long, reddish-brown hair, beautiful green eyes, and a way about her that screamed feminine softness—a softness he’d spent more than one night imagining with his dick in his hand. Even pregnant in the middle of a field party, she was still gorgeous.
Way the f*ck too young, though.
She saw him and winced, reaching around to put one hand against her back, stretching as the
contraction ended. Ruger knew she didn’t like him, and he didn’t blame her. They hadn’t met under the best of circumstances, and things between him and Zach went further to shit every day. Ruger hated the way he treated their mom and hated the way he lived his life. More than anything else, he hated the way the little f*ck was already running around on Sophie behind her back.
Cocksucker didn’t deserve a girl like her, and their kid sure as hell hadn’t won the lottery when it came to his future daddy.
“How you doing?” he asked, coming up to Sophie and hunkering down so he could see her face. Her eyes were full of panic.
“My water broke,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “The contractions are coming really fast. Way too fast. It’s supposed to be slow with your first baby, it never happens this fast. I need to get to the hospital, Ruger. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Oh, f*ck me,” he muttered. “You got the keys?” She shook her head.
“Zach does. He’s over by the bonfire. Maybe we should call an ambulance? Oh …” she groaned, leaning over.
“Hang in there,” he said. “I’ll get Zach. I can drive you to the hospital faster than an ambulance at this point.”
She groaned again and leaned back against the truck. Ruger took off toward the bonfire, finding Zach half passed out on the ground.
“On your feet, a*shole,” Ruger demanded, grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him upright. “Keys. Now.”
Zach looked at him blankly. Was that barf on his shirt? High school kids stood around watching
them, eyes wide as they clutched their big red Solo cups of cheap beer.
“F*ck me,” Ruger muttered again, digging down into his brother’s pants pocket, hoping like hell he hadn’t lost them. This was closer to Zach’s dick than he ever needed his hand to be. He pulled out the keys, dropping Zach back onto the dirt.
“You wanna see your kid gettin’ born, get your ass in the truck now,” Ruger told him. “I’m not waiting for you.”
With that he took off toward the Ford, wrenching open the door and lifting Sophie into the backseat.
He heard a thudding noise and saw Zach climb into the truck bed out of the corner of his eye.
Little prick.
Ruger turned on the engine and popped the truck into gear, ready to go. Then he slammed it back
into park, jumped out, and ran over to his bike. He had a little first aid kit in there. Nothing fancy, but
at this rate they might need it. He climbed back in the truck, pulled out of the field, and started toward
the highway, watching Sophie anxiously in the rearview mirror. She was panting hard and then she
screamed.
Every hair on the back of his neck stood up.
“Holy shit, I feel like I need to push,” she cried. “Oh, God, it hurts. It hurts so bad. I’ve never felt anything like this. Drive faster—we need to get there fast …”
Her voice trailed off as she groaned again. Ruger drove faster, wondering if Zach had something to hold on to. He couldn’t see him back there. Maybe he’d passed out in the bed.
Hell, maybe he’d bounced out. Ruger didn’t care either way.
They’d almost made it to the highway when Sophie started shouting.
“Stop! Stop the truck.”
Ruger stopped, hoping to hell that didn’t mean what he thought it did. He threw on the parking brake and turned to see her, eyes closed, face almost purple and full of agony. She was crouching forward, moaning.
“Ambulance,” he said, his voice grim. She nodded tightly. He made the call, giving the operator the details of their situation. Afterward, he put the phone on speaker, dropping it to the seat. Then he got out and opened the back door, leaning in.
“I’m here with you, Sophie,” the 911 operator told them. “Hold on. The paramedics only have to come up from Hayden. You’ll see them soon.”
Sophie groaned through another contraction.
“I have to push.”
“The ambulance is ten minutes out,” the operator said. “Can you hold on until they reach you? They have everything they need to help you with this.”
“F*ck!” Sophie screamed, squeezing Ruger’s hands so hard his fingers went numb.
“All right. It’s unlikely the baby will be born before they arrive, but I want you to get ready,
Ruger,” the operator said, her voice so calm she sounded stoned. How did she do that? He felt about thirty seconds away from a heart attack. “Sophie needs you now. The good news is that childbirth is natural and her body knows what to do. A baby born this fast usually means a very smooth delivery. Do you have a way to wash your hands?”
“Yeah,” Ruger muttered. “You gotta let go for a sec, Sophie.”
She shook her head, but he pried his hands free. He ripped into the first aid kit, pulling out a couple of ridiculously small sanitary wipe packets. Then he attacked his hands and tried to go after hers.
She screamed and punched his face.
Holy shit, girl had some power behind her. Ruger shook his head, then pulled it together, his cheekbone throbbing.
Another contraction.
“It’s too early,” Sophie gasped. “I can’t stop it. I have to push now.”
“When is she due?” the operator asked as Sophie moaned long and low. “About a month,” Ruger told her. “It’s too early.”
“All right. The most important thing is to make sure the baby is breathing. Don’t let it fall on the
ground if it’s born before the EMTs arrive. You’ll have to catch it. Now don’t panic—it can take hours to push out a baby, especially the first one. But just as a precaution, I want you to find something
warm to wrap around the child if Sophie delivers. You’ll check the baby’s breathing. If it’s good,
you’ll lay him on the mother’s bare chest, facedown, skin to skin. Then put whatever you have over him. Don’t tug on the cord, cut it, tie it off, or anything. Keep your hands away from the birth canal. If the afterbirth comes out, wrap it with the child.”
That’s when it hit him.
Sophie was going to have her baby right here on the side of the road. His nephew. Right now.
Holy shit, she needed to get her pants off first.
She wore leggings and he tried to pull them down with her still inside the cab. It didn’t work, and she couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position, either.
“We have to get you out of here,” he said. She shook her head, teeth gritted, but he picked her up and set her feet on the ground anyway. Then he pulled down her sopping wet leggings and panties in one smooth move, lifting one foot and then the other to free her legs from the clinging fabric.
Now what?
Sophie cried out again, face tight as she bore down next to him, falling into a squat beside the truck. F*ck, he needed something to keep the baby warm.
Ruger glanced around frantically, finding exactly nothing, so he pulled off his cut and tossed it into the truck. Then he ripped his T-shirt over his head. It wasn’t the best, but it was relatively clean. He’d showered and put on a fresh one before meeting Mary Jo.
Sophie pushed for an eternity, crouched down and digging her fingers deep into his shoulders. He’d have bruises there in the morning. Probably cuts from her nails, too. Whatever. The 911 operator’s calm voice encouraged them, saying the ambulance was only five minutes out. Sophie ignored her, lost in her own world of pain and urgency, giving loud, low groans with every contraction.
“Can you see the baby’s head?” the operator asked. Ruger froze.
“You want me to look?”
“Yes.”
He was pretty damned sure he didn’t want to look. F*ck. Sophie needed him, though. The kid needed him, too. Ruger dropped down to peer between her legs.
That’s when he saw it.
A tiny head, coming out of her body, covered with dark black hair. Holy crap.
Sophie sucked in a deep breath and gripped his shoulders even harder. She let out one loud, long moan as she pushed again.
Then it happened.
Ruger reached down—almost in a trance—as the world’s most perfect little human slid right out of
her and into his hands. Sophie started crying with relief as blood streaked her thighs.
“What’s happening?” the operator asked. He heard a siren in the distance.
“The baby just came out,” Ruger muttered, awed. He’d seen a calf born, but that had nothing on
this. “I’m holding it.”
“Is it breathing?”
He watched as the newborn opened its little eyes for the first time and looked right at him. They
were blue and round and confused and f*cking gorgeous. They closed again as the baby screwed up its
tiny mouth, sucked in a deep breath and let out a piercing wail.
“Yeah. F*ck. The kid is fine.”
Ruger looked up at Sophie as he raised the baby between them. She smiled hesitantly and reached for her child. Her exhausted, tear-streaked yet radiant face was the second-most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.
Right after those tiny blue eyes.
“You did good, babe,” he whispered to Sophie.
“Yeah,” she whispered back. “I did, didn’t I?”
She kissed the boy’s head softly.
“Hey, Noah … It’s Mommy,” she said. “I’m gonna take such good care of you. I promise. Always.”