Reaper's Property (25 page)
Authors: Joanna Wylde
Most of the visiting charter members left,
although I got the impression they’d be returning for the funeral. At one point
Horse cornered me and told me that the situation with the Jacks was under
control, but that I’d still need to stay in the armory.
We waited for news on Bagger’s body.
Cookie stayed at her house, but Maggs
brought Silvie over after her nap. I took her up to the game room and we played
for a couple of hours and ate dinner together. I gave her a bath in our room
and dressed her in jammies before Maggs took her back home. The poor girl
didn’t have a clue what was really going on but she obviously felt the tension
in the air.
Now Horse and I were finally alone in our
room and I wasn’t sure what to say. Some of the guys had been visibly broken
up, while others were stoic. Horse was just blank. Nothing. No concern, no
sorrow, nada. He’d found me a few times during the day, asking if I’d heard
from Jeff. I hadn’t, from either email account, which made things easier. I
wasn’t sure if I could pull off a lie tonight. I watched as he stripped down to
his boxers mechanically, then sat down on the side of the bed. He leaned
forward, elbows on knees, just looking toward the window. I went to use the
bathroom and get ready for bed. When I got back he hadn’t moved. I wasn’t sure
what to do.
“It’s bad over there,” he said softly. I
went and stood in front of him, reaching down to run my fingers through his
soft, silky hair. I didn’t know where this was going, but I wanted to be close
to him, absorb some of his pain. “You have no idea, nobody does. They’re crazy,
they kill little kids and women and entire families. Every day, Marie. At one
point my team set up shop in some town and there were these two boys who liked
to come and play with us. Probably about ten years old. They were cute and we
liked them, would kick a soccer ball around with them, give them candy, that
kind of shit. It was my buddy’s ball, but we let the kids take it home, figured
they’d enjoy it more than us. Just a ball. One day only one of them came back,
threw the ball at us and he took off running. We found out later his friend and
his mom were shot in the street for being friends with the Americans. It was
just a ball, babe, and he died for it and because we gave him candy. That’s so
fucked up. And shit like that happened all the time. You wouldn’t believe how
many civilians are dying over there.”
I massaged his scalp, feeling the tension
tying him in knots with every touch. I wanted to ask him about the article but
I couldn’t do it. Words seemed so incredibly trite compared to the pain that
radiated off him.
“Another time we found an entire village
massacred,” he said, voice rough. “Whole damn place shot to hell. Kids. Women.
Men. Fucking donkeys. Goats. All of them dead, houses burning, you name it. You
know what’s totally fucked up? We go in there and find this, call it in, but
the next day
we’re
the bastards under investigation. Apparently there’s
all kinds of people saying we did it. You know how fucked that is? You go to a
country, you try to help the people there and they spend all their time and
energy either trying to kill you or set you up.”
I stilled, wondering if I could believe
him. Horse had no reason to tell me about this. Not unless he’d found my email
account. But I’d been careful, really careful, clearing out my phone’s cache
and cookies and browsing history. I’d never put the address into my email app,
I only checked it on the website. Could he trace that?
“Do you know how insane this is? Bagger
just died for this country in a war that’s gone on for
ten fucking years
,
and people around here think they’re
suffering
if they can’t afford a
new iPhone,” he said, looking up at me for the first time. The stark grief
written all over his face tore through me and that’s when I knew. It wasn’t
fake. Not this. Jeff was wrong about him. Horse might be many things, but he
didn’t kill those people. The article said Marines were under investigation,
but it didn’t say how the investigation ended. Even Jeff acknowledged Horse had
an honorable discharge.
Horse didn’t kill those people. I knew it
in my bones.
I felt such incredible relief that I
trembled with it, but I didn’t say anything. Whatever else happened, I would
protect Jeff. But that didn’t mean I’d give up on what I had with Horse. There
had to be a way to walk the line between the two men I loved. I just had to
find it. Horse leaned forward, pressing his head into my stomach, shuddering.
His arms wrapped around my hips and he pulled me forward between his legs. I
have no idea how long we sat there but it seemed like forever. He didn’t talk,
just held me, shaking, as his grief poured out.
Finally the shudders eased and he pulled
back. I looked down at him, running my fingers across the lines of his face,
feeling the softness of his lips with my thumb. He reached up and caught my
hand, tugging it to his mouth, kissing my palm. Heat flared in his eyes and he
fell back on the bed, drawing me down to him.
We’d made love so many different ways in
our time together. Urgent, slow, angry and laughing—but never like this. He
held me like his life depended on it, hands digging into my hips and spreading
my legs across his body as his hips ground up into mine urgently. I took his
head between my hands and kissed him, long and deep, full of pain for his suffering
and relief so intense I thought my heart might explode. I couldn’t believe I’d
doubted him. I knew he was a violent man living a violent life. But what he’d
told me, the way he suffered—that wasn’t a lie.
His cock pressed into me, long and hard as
I rubbed myself across it. I wore a tee and panties and all he had on were
boxers, but that was way too much. I wanted to be naked so I could take him
deep into my body, give him my love until the sadness in his eyes changed to
something else. Instead we ground against each other, too desperate for
sensation to stop long enough to pull off our clothes. I let his lips go, put
my hands on either side of his head and arched my head back, maximizing the
pressure between us.
“You’re going to kill me,” he gasped, hands
digging into my ass so hard it hurt. “It’s worth it. I’ll take whatever you
have. I never want it to stop.”
I ignored him, focusing now on the pressure
and need growing between my legs. Everything in my body wound tight and I
realized I might come dry humping him like a teenager in the back of a
car—that’s how much his body called to mine. I ground harder, feeling it just
beyond me, and then it burst and I moaned, shuddering over him.
I rolled off, reaching down to slide off my
panties. Horse shoved down his boxers just enough to free his cock, which
sprang up long and hard between us. He reached toward me, obviously planning to
pull me on top of him, but I stopped him. Instead I leaned over his lower body,
wrapping my lips around his erection and sucking him in deep.
He shuddered, wrapping the fingers of one
hand in my hair as I swirled my tongue around his head and started stroking him
with my hand down below. I couldn’t fix anything for him. I couldn’t bring back
Bagger or change what had gone down overseas. But I could make him forget for a
little while and I didn’t plan to do it halfway.
I sucked him and licked him, pulling away
every once in a while to attack his balls with my mouth, drawing them in and
rolling them around my tongue. Then I got creative, sliding one of my fingers
up into his ass as I suctioned hard, squeezing and stroking him with my fingers
until he groaned and twisted underneath me, captured and desperate for release.
He tugged at my hair, trying to pull me away, but I wouldn’t let him. Instead I
held him captive with my fingers and mouth, swallowing triumphantly when he
exploded into me, hips jerking and trembling.
When he finished I pulled away and sat up,
wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand. He smiled up at me, and while he
still looked sad, his terrible tension had eased.
“Thanks,” he said softly, reaching up and
tracing the line of my lips.
“No problem,” I whispered. “I’m going to
brush my teeth. No offense, okay?”
He gave a low chuckle and nodded. When I
came back to bed I found him naked. He pulled me close into the crook of his
arm, bringing my leg up and over his. I felt peace. Nothing could undo what had
happened, either to him or Bagger, but for tonight he could sleep.
I felt like a very, very good old lady.
Chapter
Twenty
Maggs and Darcy took charge of making
arrangements because Cookie couldn’t handle the details. Her in-laws, who
didn’t live locally, were elderly and utterly devastated. They were
pathetically grateful for the support, unable to think of anything but their
lost son. That’s why the night before the service, the women of the club held a
strategy session at the armory. Apparently Cookie was particularly worried
about Silvie coming to the cemetery. It would be cold and she’d started acting
out, probably from all the tension and grief in the air. She still didn’t
understand what had happened to her daddy, and would carry the laptop to any
adult she could find so she could talk to him online.
Cookie asked me—as Silvie’s favorite
babysitter—if I’d help watch her at the service. If Silvie couldn’t handle
things, she wanted me to take her back to the armory rather than subject her
daughter to something she couldn’t possibly comprehend. Of course I said yes,
so the morning of the funeral Maggs parked my car around the back side of the
cemetery. That way if Silvie needed me, I could take her and leave quickly and
unobtrusively. Horse didn’t like the idea but even he had to admit that the
Devil’s Jacks wouldn’t dare disrupt the funeral. Not with a hundred Reapers
watching, not to mention half the veterans in north Idaho.
I hadn’t left the clubhouse all week but Em
had been my lifeline. She even bought me a black dress to wear, and that
morning I rode to the funeral home with her. The men followed us on their
bikes, which had to be incredibly uncomfortable in the bitter cold. Nobody
complained.
Driving motorcycles in a winter funeral
procession didn’t seem that sensible to me, but apparently that’s the way
things were done at a biker’s funeral. Maggs had warned me, but I was still
stunned to see hundreds of motorcycles parked outside the funeral home. Not
only Reapers, but the Silver Bastards and a bunch of other clubs I’d never
heard of. There were men who weren’t part of any club too, and vets flying
MIA/POW flags off the backs of their Harleys. Even more of the riders had
American flags. There was no way this many people could fit inside the funeral
home for the viewing but nobody seemed to mind. Maggs took me inside and I
watched as more people arrived, waiting patiently in the cold, talking to each
other quietly in small clumps. Some of them stuck what looked like bumper stickers
on the casket, which freaked me out at first. Then I realized they were Reapers
support badges and nobody seemed to have a problem with it. I saw Cookie and
managed to go up to her to offer my respects. She smiled at me but I don’t
think she even recognized me. Silvie did, though, and I picked her up and
carried her around. She loved it and I lavished attention on her.
Then it was time to pile into the cars for
the procession. I walked Silvie over to Cookie, who seemed completely
disconnected from reality. Couldn’t blame her for that. When her mother-in-law
tried to take her granddaughter from me, the little girl started crying and
clung to me, kicking.
“Come with us,” Cookie said suddenly, as if
she’d been startled awake. “Whatever makes her happy. Please take care of her
for me, I need your help.”
That’s how I wound up riding in the limo
with the family, right behind the hearse. It felt so wrong, so presumptuous,
but it made Silvie happy and Cookie certainly wasn’t up to handling her. We
drove slowly through town and I was astounded at the show of support and
respect. I guess I’d been cut off from events out at the armory, but I honestly
hadn’t realized just how big Bagger’s funeral procession would be. This wasn’t
just the club, or even a group of clubs. The whole town was stepping up to
honor Bagger for his sacrifice.
It started with six police cars, driving
two abreast with their lights flashing. The Reapers weren’t big cop fans, but
Bagger’s dad had wanted to accept their offer of an escort so no one complained.
Then came the hearse and the family in three limos, followed by the
indescribable roar of hundreds of bikes. We drove right down Sherman Avenue and
instead of having us avoid the main roads like a typical funeral procession,
they closed off the streets in his honor. People lined the curbs to pay their
respects, standing at attention as we drove by. Many held American flags and
handmade signs saying things like “Thank You” and “We Will Not Forget”.
Cookie watched them with dead eyes while
Silvie pressed her little face to the glass, fascinated. When we finally
arrived at the cemetery, the limo stopped and we got out. The Reapers came
behind us, more of them than I’d ever seen. It seemed like hundreds, although I
learned later there were about a hundred and twenty-five. Behind them rode
other clubs and veterans’ groups, followed by an endless line of cars. There
were also active-duty servicemen in dress uniforms and even the local high
school marching band, wearing poorly fitted black suits instead of their usual
flamboyant regalia. It took nearly an hour before everyone could park, so we
made Cookie get back into the car to wait. I climbed into another limo with
Silvie and let her play on my phone.
Finally everyone had arrived and we
congregated around the gravesite. Once again, I felt like I was far too close
to the front for a woman who’d never met Bagger. So many people had known and
loved him. But Silvie wanted me so I stood to one side of Cookie’s chair,
bouncing her in my arms. The service was a strange mix of military formality
and biker tradition. Instead of the Marine honor guard serving as pallbearers,
Cookie had requested Horse, Ruger, Picnic, Duck and Bam Bam. They carefully
carried the flag-draped coffin from the hearse to the grave. There were three
on one side and only two on the other, something I’d never seen at a funeral
before.
“Cookie wanted them to leave a spot open
for Bolt,” Maggs whispered next to me, choking up a little. I felt my own eyes
tear up, amazed that even in the depths of her grief, Bagger’s wife would
remember Bolt and honor his friendship with her husband. Once the coffin was
settled, the preacher spoke and so did some of the guys from the club. The band
played the Star Spangled Banner.
Then the military honors began.
A group of ten young Marines in full dress
uniform had been standing patiently off to the side during the service. Their
commander called them to attention and gave out a series of orders. Then seven
of them raised rifles and shot three perfectly timed volleys in unison. The
sound split the air like thunder, so loud it rattled off the hills. Cookie
shuddered at every shot like they were firing right through her. Silvie
squealed as I covered her little ears.
One of the remaining Marines raised a bugle
to his lips and played Taps, the haunting song echoing through the eerie
silence of the cemetery. Silvie squirmed in my arms and started to fuss. The
commander and remaining man walked carefully over to the coffin and lifted the
flag, stepping to the side and away from the casket, folding it carefully into
a star-spangled, blue triangle.
Finally, when it was perfect, the commander
walked forward to Cookie and leaned forward to present her with the flag, voice
carrying in the cold, still air.
“On behalf of the president of the United
States, the commandant of the Marine Corps and a grateful nation, please accept
this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s service to
country and corps.”
Cookie took the flag and cradled it against
her chest, utterly silent, as Bagger’s mother sobbed loudly. Silvie crumpled up
her face and started crying too, and I decided she’d had enough. I made my way
to the back of the crowd and walked across the frosted grass quickly, which
seemed to distract the little girl. I put her in the car seat now permanently
installed in my vehicle and sat down to turn on the engine and get the heater
going. A knock on the window startled me and I gave a little scream, which made
Silvie burst into tears again.
Max stood outside.
I wanted to hit the gas and run him over.
Instead I lowered the window a crack and glared at him.
“I need to get Silvie out of here,” I said,
filling my tone with ice.
“I know,” he said. “Look, I’m really sorry
about what happened. What I did to you was out of line, so out of line, and
there’s nothing I can do or say to make up for that. But I’m worried about you
leaving by yourself. I just got a text from a friend who says he saw four of
the Devil’s Jacks eating at Zip’s. There’s only one reason they’re in town and
I don’t think you’ll be safe if you leave by yourself. Let me make sure you and
Silvie get back to the armory okay.”
“You’re the last person I’d trust,” I said,
shaking my head.
“I know,” he replied, face full of remorse
that seemed real, but who could tell? “I deserve that. But Horse shouldn’t have
to leave right now. If he had any idea the Jacks are already in town he’d be
with you right now. But think about this—with the way everyone’s on edge,
things could get pretty ugly if there’s a confrontation. Horse isn’t in a good
place.”
He made a good point.
I didn’t want Horse to wind up in jail. I
didn’t want any of them in jail and I definitely didn’t want Bagger’s funeral
to turn into a debacle.
“Let me drive home with you,” he said.
“I’ll keep my hands to myself and my mouth shut. Email Horse right now, so if I
pull something he’ll know we’re together. Then text him as soon as we get
there, once the service is over. That should make you feel safer. Please, if
you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Silvie. If they spot you, they’ll move
in and they’ll take her too. I can’t let that happen to Bagger’s kid. It’s one
last thing I can do for him.”
That convinced me. Max was right—whatever
was between us, Silvie needed to be safe and I really didn’t want to pull Horse
away from the funeral. I might loathe Max, but he was loyal to the club. Horse
hated him too, but he’d told me time and again that he’d trust any of the
Reapers with his life. Max was still one of his brothers, and the only thing
that scared me more than the thought of the Jacks catching me was the thought
of them hurting Silvie. Even Max at his worst would be better than that.
“Get in the car,” I said, sighing. “Don’t
talk to me or touch me.”
He nodded and walked around to the
passenger’s side, sliding in as I sent Horse a quick email. The fact that he
didn’t reach for the car keys impressed me—Horse never let me drive, and based
on what the other girls said it was a common bone of contention. Reapers liked
to be in control. I turned on the radio and drove straight to the armory. Max
kept his word. No talking, no touching, nothing until I turned the car off.
“I’ll walk you in and make sure the
prospects are on top of things,” he said. “Then I’m going back to talk with
Picnic and the guys, give them a heads-up. Nobody will want to leave the
reception or party but we need to be aware. Don’t go outside, okay?”
I nodded, still feeling nervous when he
looked at me. I’d never feel safe around that man. We walked inside to find
Painter and a couple other prospects from different charters hanging around.
Painter didn’t look too thrilled when he glanced from me to Max, but I caught
his eye and flashed him a quick thumbs-up. Then I took Silvie into the kitchen
for a sandwich. While she tucked in her food, I texted Horse and let him know
where I was and that Max had escorted me without incident. He didn’t respond,
which wasn’t a surprise. I took Silvie up to my room and laid her down for a
nap, thankful that I’d been able to help and bemused that Max had proven capable
of decency.
I found him outside around yet another
bonfire, with a mixed group of Reapers, Silver Bastards and family members.
Like most wakes, it started off somber enough but was growing louder as people
shared beer and stories. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his
stomach, resting my face against his back. After a while he pulled me around to
his front, draping his arms over my shoulder and leaning down to whisper in my
ear.
“Thanks for everything today, babe,” he
said. “I’m sorry you had to ride with Max. You made the right call though.
We’ve spotted the Jacks a couple of times, they’re definitely planning
something. It’ll be good to finish this out.”
I leaned back against him, drinking in his
warmth and thinking about going back home together. I was tired of the armory.
I just hoped they managed to get rid of the Jacks without hurting Jeff…
“Will it be dangerous?” I asked.
“Not if we do it right,” he said. “We’re
not stupid and this isn’t the first time we’ve had to protect what’s ours.
Don’t worry about it, babe. Tonight’s about Bagger.”
After a while I got cold, so I went inside
to find Maggs and a bunch of women I didn’t know standing around the kitchen’s
center island, passing a bottle of Jack Daniels. I didn’t feel much like
drinking, but I joined the circle when Maggs waved me over. I was learning that
the sisterhood of biker babes was bigger than I’d grasped. I saw respect and
welcome in their eyes when she introduced me as Horse’s property, and for the
first time the word didn’t bother me. It just meant something different to us
than it did in the civilian world.
