Reaper's Property

Chapter Nine
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 p-ssy 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 f*ckin’ 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 p-ssy 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 f*ckups during church today.
Damn, Marie’s f*ckwad 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. F*ckwit 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 f*cker 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 f*ck 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 f*cker standing next to her would see them and more if she bent over even a little bit. And those fishnet tights? F*ckin’ 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. F*ck, 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 p-ssy 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 f*ck 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.
Ass like hers was too hot to wait until they got home.
She’d probably bitch a little when he bent her over, but he’d shut her up, warning her to brace against the counter. Damn, but his girl could bitch about anything. The thought of Marie’s face, all pissed off at him for calling her sweet butt, made his cock jerk, and he had to stop moving for a second.
No good, blowing your wad before the best part.
After about a minute he’d cooled off enough to let the fantasy play out.
He’d push her over and slide his hands under that little dress, pulling it up until he saw the small of her back. Those fishnets would be hooked to a garter belt, with a black thong to match. He’d reach down and push the narrow flap of fabric aside, sliding his finger into her cunt to feel just how hot and tight she was.
She might complain but Marie was always ready for him, no question. Horse let the fantasy take over again. F*ck…
In his mind he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to pull out his cock and balls, rubbing his cock head against the crease of her ass. She shivered, and he slid off those naughty little panties of hers, dropping them to the floor. She stepped out of them and set her high heels wide, tilting up her ass and inviting him right on in.
Be rude to turn down an invitation like that.
He reached down, grabbing the tip of his cock, sliding it along the slit of her p-ssy a couple of times before settling himself. Then he took her hips in his hands, holding her tight, and thrust himself all the way in. She screamed, muscles tightening up around his cock. He should have taken it slower, she’d probably never had a man so big inside before.
“Sorry, baby,” he muttered.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, sucking in deep breaths. He felt her membranes tighten around him, twitching and squeezing him harder than that goddamn masseuse from the spa in downtown Spokane. So f*ckin’ hot. Horse couldn’t wait any longer.
Slowly he pulled out as she gripped him, muscles twitching. He retreated almost all the way, feeling her lips tighten around the rim of his head before slamming back into her.
Things got wild after that.
It took everything he had to stay upright as he f*cked Marie. She gasped each time he bottomed out, cunt wrapped around him so tight it almost hurt. F*ck, she felt good. Again and again he forced his way into her small body, until he felt his balls drawing up, ready to blow his load straight into her womb.
Marie was close too. She’d gotten so wet and sloppy that every thrust squelched and she kept begging him for more, to f*ck her harder. He leaned over, covering her body with his, bracing himself against the counter with one hand while the other searched for her *.
There it was.
Horse thrust his finger against it, too far gone to be subtle or gentle. Apparently she didn’t mind, because as soon as he touched it she blew up like a f*ckin’ bomb around him, screaming. It felt incredible, the way her entire body centered on him, gripping him, begging for his come.
He’d give it to her too.
Horse released her *, leaning both arms against the counter as he started really hammering her. Their grunts mixed as he took her, branding her as his and f*cking her so hard she’d feel his cock in the back of her throat.
Marie.
His girl.
His property.
Only his.
Horse blew up, coming so hard he forgot to breathe. He let his hand fall away from his cock, dropping the fantasy. Then he started laughing at himself right there in his bedroom, the sound anything but funny because f*cking Marie in his head was better than f*cking Serena for real.
Might as well shoot himself, get it over with.

Horse pulled up to the clubhouse, cutting it far too close for church.
One of the prospects stood in the parking lot outside, watching the bikes and keeping an eye on the gate. The Reapers bought the old National Guard armory fifteen years back. With its concrete block construction, walled courtyard and small windows it was perfect, both as a clubhouse and a fortress. Not that they’d come under attack recently. The Reapers were indisputably dominant in the area, with all other clubs operating only with their blessing. That was the subject of the meeting.
Protecting that dominance.
Horse walked into the clubhouse, which was first and foremost a lounge and hangout area. There were rooms upstairs kitted out for overnight visits, of course, and some storage, but they never kept anything too sensitive there. At least nothing where LEO could ever find it. The cops didn’t show up often, but the times they’d brought warrants they hadn’t found jack shit.
The girls needed to come through and clean the place out, Horse decided, looking around the clubhouse with distaste. Debris from last night’s party still littered the tables, couches and the long bar along one wall. Most of them were probably still sleeping it off upstairs, although a dirty blonde wearing a tight jean skirt and halter top was passed out on the couch, legs spread wide. Thank God he didn’t live here anymore; now that he had his own place he cringed at what used to seem normal in terms of hygiene.
Yup, getting old.
“You coming, bro?” asked Ruger, a heavily tattooed and pierced man with a short mohawk. He stood by the door with another of their prospects, Painter. “Last one.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Horse replied. He handed his gun to Painter, who set it carefully on the counter with the others, next to a box full of cell phones.
“You got mine in there already?” he asked. “Think I left it here last night.”
“Yeah.”
Horse nodded his thanks and walked into church.
Fifteen guys, all but three of their active, full-patch members, already sat around the big, scarred wooden table that had once decorated some fancy-assed conference room. Now it had a thousand nicks and little carvings in it, and a big RFFR painted in the center—Reapers Forever, Forever Reapers.
“Nice you could join us,” said Picnic, sitting at the head of the table. “Thought Serena might have sucked you in. Get lost in that snatch of hers?”
“It’s five o’clock exactly,” Horse said, shrugging as he draped his large frame across an empty chair. “What can I say? I’m a precisely tuned, high-performance machine, unlike you and that crap-ass bike you ride.”
“F*ck off,” Picnic said, grinning back. Then his expression grew more serious. “Okay, boys, we got something important to deal with today. I think you all know we’ve got a thief. Jeff Jensen, computer guy, out of the Yakima Valley. Got back from seeing him this morning, no progress at all.”
“He’s the guy handling our offshore stuff, right?” asked Ruger.
“Yeah,” Horse replied. “Computer genius, knows his shit, our transactions are untraceable. God knows we’re paying him for it too. But it’s not enough. He’s been skimming for months. Been tracking it down for a while now, already gave him opportunities to make it right, so it’s not just a matter of him screwing up. Definitely skimming. It’s small compared to our total volume, but we can’t let shit like this happen. Bad for business.”
“We let one do it, they’re all gonna try,” Picnic said. “We start losing respect, next thing you know the girls at the Line’ll be giving drinks and lap dances to another MC.”
“So what’s the damage?” asked Bam Bam.
“We’re right at $50k,” Horse answered. “It’s been push and pull, he grabs a couple grand, then tries to pay it back. He’s gambling, maybe using. I hate to lose him as an asset because we don’t have anyone else in the fold to replace him. That’s why we’ve given him so many chances to make things right. But his losses are getting bigger—as of last week he was only into us for $20k total, so it’s escalating fast. We let him go much longer and we’ll be down serious cash. He might even pull a runner on us.”
“We should put him in the ground,” Max said, voice firm and cold. Horse glanced at him, surprised to see his face flushed, the little muscle in his jaw flexing with suppressed emotion. Max was still on probation, and it wasn’t usual for a guy in his position to talk so much during church. Max’s blood tended to run hot though. He was one of the hardest men Horse had ever met, which was saying a lot. “We’ve done everything but lead this guy to the shitter and wipe his ass. He’s always making promises, always got an excuse, but nothing ever changes. You should’ve seen him last night. He’s definitely tweaking. Time to cut our losses.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
“How much does he know about club business?” asked Duck, a Vietnam vet who couldn’t make the long runs anymore. He spent most of his time in the clubhouse drinking beer and telling the girls stories about back in the day when men were men and women knew their place. Horse didn’t much like the man but he’d still trust him with his life.
He’d trust any of the brothers with his life.
“Too much,” Horse replied, his voice heavy. “Way too much. He’s a liability if we don’t take out some kind of insurance.”
“What kind insurance is good enough for a guy like that?” asked Max, clearly spoiling for a fight, although damned if Horse could understand why. “He’s a liar and a thief. The money we’ve been feeding him for his work should be enough for anyone. Instead he’s livin’ in a shithole, smoking weed and waiting for his sister to bring home her f*ckin’ pathetic little paychecks. What kind of man lives like that? Even if he started playing it straight, we’d never be able to believe him. Probably full of all kinds of crazy lies.”
“That’s the truth,” Picnic murmured. He looked up at Horse, his face grave.
“We in agreement here?”
Horse glanced around the room, seeing Jensen’s death written in every face. He couldn’t argue with them—the man knew way too much. He needed to be removed.
F*ck.
He thought about Marie, what she looked like when she was pissed at him, spitting fire like a little dragon. Damn, he wanted to get inside that woman. Once wouldn’t be close to enough. As usual his dick stood up to salute the idea, but what really pushed him over the edge was the thought of Marie crying over that lame-ass bastard.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“What about the sister?” he asked.
“What about her?” Picnic replied, voice carefully neutral.
“She’s gonna be my old lady. Some nice insurance there,” Horse said, aware of the pointed looks several of the brothers gave each other. “And when it’s family, we take care of business different and you know it.”
“Last I heard, she wasn’t on board with that,” Picnic replied slowly. “Girl didn’t even ask about you last night, Horse.”
“There’s precedent. Not all old ladies start out with their priorities in line, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be claimed if the president approves it and the members agree. It’s happened.”
“Sure, thirty years ago,” snapped Bam Bam. “They did all kinds of shit back then. We’re livin’ in a modern world, bro, you can’t just kidnap some chick and take her home.”
Duck snorted and slammed his hand down on the table, startling everyone.
“You pussies talk about the modern world like we give a shit about their rules. Remember who we are,” he boomed. “We’re men—one percenters. F*cking kings of the MC world. We don’t follow the rules, we make our own goddamn rules. My brother Horse wants a woman, wants her bad enough to come to the club and throw down for her. He ever done that before?”
He looked around the room, glaring at each man in turn.
Horse bit back a grin. Duck on a roll, hadn’t seen that one coming.
“Our brother has come before this club and let us know his intention to take an old lady,” Duck continued. “The situation is complicated. We all know he’ll put the club first, so we hear him out and back his play. He may not always be right, but he’s always our brother. You little cocksuckers need to think about that, ’fore I show up here one day and find you growing tits in place of your balls.”
Duck sat back with a grunt.
“How ’bout you tell us what you really think, Duck,” said Ruger, laughing and relaxing back into his chair. “Jesus.”
“He’s right,” Horse said, voice deadly serious. “I may not always be right, but I am always your brother—or at least I thought I was. A Reaper takes what he wants. You got my back?”
Picnic sighed.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said. “She isn’t part of our world, she’s got no idea what to expect and she doesn’t even want to try. It’s not gonna end well.”
“That’s my problem, now isn’t it?”
“It’s your problem so long as you keep it controlled and out of club business,” Picnic replied. “She’s a nice kid, I like her. Good cook, f*cking love that potato salad of hers. Puts bacon in it. It’d be nice to have some of that shit with dinner next time we roast a pig. But that still leaves us to deal with her brother. Makes things more complicated.”
Horse smiled. He’d won—this was just details.
“So she’s our insurance,” he answered. “Let the brother know that if he doesn’t pay us back, he’ll never see her again. Give him a few months, see how things play out.”
“You think he’ll find a way to pay us back?” asked Picnic.
“No idea,” Horse admitted. “The guy practically prints money when he’s focused and sober. Enough motivation, he may come through for us.”
“Hasn’t so far.”
“He loves his sister,” Bam Bam said quietly. “He’s a weasel and a bastard, but he really does care about her. Seen it with my own eyes. I don’t think he’ll hang her out to dry.”
“We make sure he knows—he doesn’t pay, she’s in big trouble,” Horse said. “He pays up, great. He blows this deal, we put him in the ground. Everybody wins.”
Except Marie. But Jensen was a big boy and he’d chosen to do business with and then screw over the Reapers MC. If it wasn’t for her, f*cker’d be dead already.
“And the issue of respect?” asked Ruger. “We have to cover our bases here. Can’t look weak.”
“That’s the truth,” Picnic said. “But taking a man’s sister, holding her hostage? That’s payment in blood, we spread it ’round the right places. It should do.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” said Max. Horse looked at him, trying to read his mind. Something was up with Max. They all cared about club business, but this was a step beyond. Almost personal.
“The money,” Max continued. “It’s one thing to let Horse have his little f*ck toy, I don’t give a shit about that. It’s another to just sit back and lose fifty large. You guys may have money stashed somewhere, but I don’t. We sure we want to risk that kind of cash on this asshat pulling through for us, on top of the risk of him running to LEO?”
Horse narrowed his eyes at Max, who met them straight on. The man didn’t flinch.
“It’s a good point,” Bam Bam said, his voice mild. “Of course, we take him out now, we never see that money again anyway, Max.”
“Well maybe we wouldn’t have our asses hanging out so far if Horse’d done a better job watching him.”
Picnic sat up.
“Careful, brother,” he said, his voice cold. “Horse did his job. It was my call to let this play out, and I had good reason. That little shit made half a million bucks for this club, easy, in the last two years. You don’t just throw something like that away if you don’t have to. F*cker’s got a gift, can’t just replace him. That’s why I like this idea, maybe we can still save the situation.”
“I’m not voting for it,” Max said. “We need to put him down.”
“Why don’t I buy her?” Horse said. Everyone turned to look at him, startled. “I’ll buy Marie from the club, and we give Jensen another shot. Fifty grand, outta my pocket and into the club account. We wait and see if Jensen comes up with the money and interest. He does, I get paid back, the club makes a profit. He doesn’t, it’s on me.”
“That’s f*cked up,” muttered Bam Bam. “No cunt worth that.”
“She’s not a cunt.”
“They’re all cunts,” Max snapped. Horse caught his eye, staring him down.
“Play nice, boys,” said Picnic. “I think you’re crazy, Horse, but this works for me. That good enough for you, Max?”
Max dipped his head in agreement.
“I’m with Picnic, you’re crazy,” said Bam Bam. “Should be a hell of a show. She hates you, Horse. Jensen told me.”
“Well, I’m pretty pissed at her myself,” Horse said. “We gotta work through that. But she’s mine and that’s the way it is.”
Picnic rolled his eyes and Ruger snorted.
“Nice to see youngsters acting like men instead of chorus girls,” Duck grunted, looking around the table in approval. “Let’s vote. I want beer.”

Horse left the meeting feeling pretty good. Paying out the money was gonna hurt, no question. But he’d been thinking about putting up a new shop on the property, so he had the cash. He damned sure wanted Marie more than a shop. He couldn’t wait to come home to her after a tough day, the smell of her cooking in the house, the sight of her in an apron and nothing else.
Nice.
Horse grabbed his phone out of the box, thinking he should have called her before now. He’d gotten her sweet little text messages and knew she was hurting. Hell, he’d wanted her to hurt, he could admit it. She’d hurt him, so he let her dangle for a few days…
But now that them being together was a reality? Time to let it go. He stepped out of the clubhouse and into the sunlight, powering up the phone. It pinged repeatedly, letting him know he’d missed a bunch of text messages from the night before.

Marie: Horse, muss yu
Marie: Why dont anser?
Marie: Horse like yur name. Horsey. I’d like to rid u horsey, LOL. You sleeping? Or busy with someone?
Marie: I know yur there. I bet you got a new gurl alredy. Screw you.
Marie: 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.

F*ck.
She’d been drunk, no question. And when people were drunk they said stupid shit, but they also told the truth. Marie might want his body, but she definitely didn’t want to be his old lady, despite all her sweet little texts to him trying to mend fences.
“Goddamit!” he yelled, throwing the phone at the concrete block wall of the clubhouse. It hit hard, shattering, as Ruger stepped outside.
“Problem?” he asked, raising a brow and looking from the phone to Horse.
Horse shook his head.
“No problem,” he said, tamping down his anger. He’d made his choice, taken a stand in front of the club. He’d play it out. But Marie was damned well going to pay him back that fifty grand one way or another. “Decided it’s time to get a new phone, that’s all.”
“What was wrong with the old one?” Ruger asked, his voice mild.
“It broke.”

Sept. 17—Present Day
Horse looked down at Jeff, feeling detached.
The man knelt in the middle of the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, Picnic standing over him with a gun. Blood ran down his face—they’d given him a decent beating, but not serious enough to need a hospital. Just bad enough to make him really, really uncomfortable and hopefully scare the hell out of Marie.
He’d have a few permanent scars to help him remember not to f*ck over the Reapers too.
“I wonder if sissy’s gonna bail you out?” Picnic asked Jeff. “You really screwed yourself this time, little man. Do you not know our motto? F*ck with us and we will f*ck with you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeff whispered, eyes wild behind his puffing eyelids. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose, you’ve got to give me another chance.”
“How many chances do you need?” Horse demanded. “It’s hard to keep a straight face, listening to you talk.”
Jeff’s phone pinged on the counter, and Ruger picked it up.
“Text from Marie,” he said. “She’s gonna be home in a few, leaving the store now.”
“Text her back,” Jeff said quickly. “Please, she doesn’t have anything to do with this. Don’t let this happen, just tell her not to come home for another hour. Don’t let this be her last memory of me.”
“Shut up,” Picnic said, sounding exasperated.
Jeff shut up.
“You guys said this was a dump, but I didn’t realize just how bad,” Ruger said, leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him as he surveyed the room. “Can’t believe you let your sister live like this, f*ckwad, especially given how much money we’ve been paying you.”
“I’m a shitty brother,” Jeff mumbled. “I know that. But don’t hurt Marie, she’s a sweetheart. Right? Never hurt anyone, doesn’t deserve this.”
“Oh I’m sure she’s sweet,” Ruger replied, smirking. Horse shot him a dark look, but it didn’t shut him up. Ruger grinned at him. “You can’t seriously expect us not to f*ck with you over this, Horse.”
Horse shrugged—he didn’t, actually. What a mess. Fifty grand out the door for a woman who didn’t even want him. He ran a hand through his hair. At least he’d finally get to f*ck her.
For fifty grand her cunt better be lined with gold.
“She’s pulling up now,” Painter said from his station near the window. “Got an armful of groceries. Should I help her carry them in?”
The men just looked at him, Picnic shaking his head in bemusement.
“Joking, right?” asked Ruger.
“Sorry, guess I didn’t think that one through,” Painter said. Horse had his doubts about the prospect—still pretty young, and so green. Could take him years to earn his top rocker at this point. The door opened and Marie walked in.
She screamed.
“I’m so sorry, sis,” Jeff said, the words muffled and broken. Marie looked around the room frantically, disbelief and shock written all over her face. Horse felt his cock harden and decided he was one sick f*ck. The woman was terrified and she didn’t want him, yet she still turned him on. Of course, just about everything she did turned him on.
Everything but throwing his offer to take her as property back in his face. F*ckin’ bitch and her text messages. He might’ve paid fifty grand for her, but she claimed a million wouldn’t be enough?
She should be grateful to him for saving her brother.
Picnic looked at Marie and winked. That was creepy, even to Horse, and it surprised him that she didn’t have a heart attack on the spot. Good, he wanted her afraid.
“Little brother’s been a bad boy,” Picnic said. “He’s been stealing from us. You know anything about that?”
She shook her head, a grocery bag falling, apples rolling on the floor. One hit Horse’s foot and it took all his willpower not to kick it at Jensen’s head.
“I don’t understand,” she said, giving her brother a pleading look.
“He’s supposed to be working for us,” Picnic said. “Pretty good with that little laptop of his, sure you get that. But instead of working he’s been playing at the casino with our f*cking money. Now he has the balls to tell me that he’s lost the money and can’t pay us back.”
He punctuated the last four words with jabs of his pistol’s thick, round barrel into the back of Jeff’s neck. Marie looked stunned, blinking rapidly. Horse could almost see the thoughts racing through her pretty little head.
“You got fifty grand on you?” he asked casually.
“He stole fifty thousand dollars?”
“Yup,” Horse said. “And if it doesn’t get paid back right now, his options are limited.”
“I thought you were friends,” she whispered, eyes darting between Horse, Jensen and Picnic.
“You’re a sweet kid,” Picnic replied. “But you don’t get who we are. There’s the club and everyone else, and this stupid f*cker is not part of the club. You f*ck with us, we will f*ck you back. Harder. Always.”
Jeff’s mouth trembled, tears welling up in his eyes. Horse’d been surprised the guy didn’t start bawling earlier, to be honest. Then Jensen pissed his pants.
“Shit,” muttered Ruger. “I f*cking hate it when they piss themselves.”
He looked down at the man and shook his head.
“You don’t see your sister pissing herself, do you? What a little bitch,” he said, disgusted.
“Are you going to kill us?” Marie asked, starting to tremble. She’d lost the color in her face. Horse looked at Jensen, disgusted. What kind of a*shole put his sister through something like this—not just this, here, but living in a dump like this, working all day changing diapers for minimum wage?
“I mean, would you really kill people you shared pictures of your daughters with?” Marie asked, studying Picnic’s face. “One of them is about my age, isn’t she? Can’t we work something out? Maybe we can make payments or something.”
Horse snorted and shook his head. Time to move things along.
“You don’t get it, sweetie, this isn’t just about money. We could give a shit about the money. This is about respect and stealing from the club. We let this pissant f*ck get away with it, they’ll all start doing it. We don’t let stuff like this slide. Ever. He pays with blood.”
She closed her eyes for second, and Horse saw the moisture hovering on her lashes. Shit, he hated women crying. No, he hated bitches crying, and Marie was just another bitch. He needed to remember that.
“Jeff, why?” she whispered, and the heartbreak and despair in her voice made Painter flinch. Horse grew cold, dark rage building. How dare the little prick look at her like that, pleading with his eyes, and what did he do to deserve her loyalty?
“I wasn’t planning to lose it,” he replied, his voice full of despair. “I thought I could win it back, make it up somehow. Or that maybe I could hide it in the wire transfers…”
“Shut the f*ck up,” Picnic said, smacking the side of Jensen’s head with his free hand. “You don’t talk club business. Even when you’re about to die.”
“There’s another way,” Horse said, deciding to lay things out for her. Might as well get it over with and make damned sure she understood her place. He’d offered her better, but she hadn’t wanted it. Now she’d take what she got, and she better not complain about it. “Paying in blood can mean different things.”
“He doesn’t need to die for that to happen,” she said quickly. “Maybe you can burn down our trailer!”
She smiled at him like she’d won the cake at a cakewalk.
“Oh, we’re gonna do that no matter what,” Horse drawled. “But that’s not blood. I can think of something that is though.”
“What?” Jeff asked, his voice full of desperate hope. “I’ll do anything, I swear. If you give me a chance I’ll crack so many accounts for you, you won’t believe what we can accomplish. I’ll stop smoking, that’ll clear my head, I’ll do a better job…”
His voice trailed off as Horse laughed, and the mohawk guy shook his head and grinned at Picnic.
“You believe this a*shole?” he asked. “Seriously, douche, you aren’t making a very good case for yourself, telling us just how much you been slacking.”
Jeff whimpered, and Horse saw Marie jerk forward, as if she wanted to go to him but thought better of it. That pissed him off even more. He wanted that kind of caring from her and she wasted it on her brother instead. But he was getting too worked up too fast, he needed to keep his cool. He took a second to slow down, stretching his neck from side to side, cracking his knuckles. That cleared his head.
“Let’s get a couple of things clear,” he said. “We’re not going to hurt you, Marie.”
“You aren’t?” she asked, and the surprise in her eyes stabbed right through him. She thought he’d hurt her, like her asshat ex, Gary. Might as well call him a monster. He forced himself back on track.
“Nope,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, we aren’t pissed at you. This isn’t about you. You’ll keep your mouth shut if you want to survive, and you’re smart enough to know that. That’s not why you’re here.”
“Why am I here?”
“So you can see just how seriously f*cked your brother is,” he replied. “Because we’re going to kill him if he doesn’t find a way to pay us back. I think he might be able to pull it off with the proper motivation.”
“I will,” Jeff babbled. “I’ll pay you back, thank you so much—”
“No, you’ll pay us back twice as much, f*ckwad,” Picnic said, kicking him viciously in the side with his heavy leather boot. Jeff pitched to the floor, keening in pain. “That’s if we let you live, which is entirely up to your sister.”
Now was the moment. Horse wondered if he’d have to argue with her or just throw her in the truck, hands tied behind her back.
“I’ll do it,” she said.
Well shit. That was a little too easy. Didn’t she care about her safety at all? Nope, all she cared about was Jeff-hole. Horse snorted, disgusted, letting his eyes roam across her body. F*ck, she was hot. Even like this, straight from work, scared out of her mind. His Marie was small and curvy, with hair framing her face and tits heaving as she tried to control her fear. He’d bet a thousand dollars she had no idea the top four buttons of her shirt had come undone, showing a hell of a lot of cleavage and the outline of her black bra.
His dick approved. It wanted to squeeze between those boobs and shoot out a pretty pearl necklace for her to wear. Horse took a deep breath, this wasn’t over yet. He could f*ck her tits later. Might be the first thing on his list.
“Don’t you want to ask what it is first?” he asked.
“Um, sure,” she said. “What do I have to do?”
“It seems Horse here wants a house mouse,” Picnic said. She looked blank. Picnic sighed and looked at Horse. “She’s clueless, you sure about this? Seems like work to me.”
Horse glared at him, wondering if he could hit him without f*cking up his plan. Probably not. He turned back to Marie, forcing himself to stay calm, collected.
“This is your option,” he said, voice clipped. “You want to keep dumbass alive, pack a bag and climb on my bike when we leave. You do what I tell you, when I tell you, no questions and no bitching.”
“Why?” she asked, so cute and confused and blank it pissed him off even more. Didn’t she have any survival skills at all?
“So you can cook dessert for me,” he snapped.
Her mouth dropped open. Seriously, she didn’t get what was happening here? He shook his head, frustrated.
“Why the hell do you think?” he said, the words grating and harsh. “So I can f*ck you.”