Reaper's Property (Reapers MC, #1)(24)

He cocked his head at me.

“I’m in a motorcycle club, babe.”

I laughed.

“No, I mean what do you do for a job?”

“I work for the club, mostly. We have different businesses, pretty well established in our area. Got a pawn shop, a bar, a gun shop and a garage. I do the books.”

That surprised me. I couldn’t see Horse stooped over a ledger, counting money.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he replied, laughing. “Just ’cause I’m the picture of manly perfection doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. I’m actually pretty good at math, took a few classes through the GI Bill and now you see me, a regular f*ckin’ accountant. Our finances are more complex than you’d think.”

“So my brother’s doing website design for your businesses?”

The smile on his face died, and he shook his head.

“That’s club business, babe, and not the kind we talk about. Enough questions.”

With that he reached and caught me behind the neck, pulling me in for a kiss. I dropped my food, but I didn’t mind because he draped me across his lap, lips exploring mine slowly. When the kiss ended, I smiled up at him.

“I like how you change the subject.”

“Glad I could be of service. Let’s get this cleaned up, there’s something else I wanna use the blanket for.”

Worked for me.

I rolled off his lap to my knees, collecting everything up and putting it back into the bag.

“Hey, why aren’t you helping?” I demanded playfully.

“Enjoying the view. Love that sweet ass of yours.”

I shook it at him, smirking, and he crawled over to me, cupping my cheeks in his hands, rubbing the inside curves where they met my thighs with the pads of his thumbs.

“Fuckin’ hot, babe. Can’t wait to get inside.”

I shivered, pushing back at him.

“So goddamn sweet,” he muttered, dropping his head down to kiss the small of my back.

Sweet.

Sweet ass.

Sweet butt.

“Horse, what does sweet butt mean?” I asked suddenly. He stilled. “I know you said you call me that to piss me off, but it means more. I know it does. Tell me.”

“Doesn’t matter, babe, you’re not one of them.”

Uh-oh. I pulled away from him, cooling a little. Didn’t like the sound of that at all. I sat down, facing him, knees up to my chest, arms wrapped around them pointedly, and waited.

“Drop it, babe,” Horse muttered, sitting back on his heels. “We’re in a good place, let’s just let this flow like it should. You’re thinking too much.”

“When a man tells me I shouldn’t think, that’s a bad sign,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Explain. Now.”

Horse ran a hand through his hair and shrugged.

“You don’t know much about the Reapers, do you? Or motorcycle clubs in general?”

“I don’t know anything about them,” I said.

“Well, bikers—bikers like us, part of a club for life—are a different culture,” he said after a short pause. “We’re not regular citizens, we’re more like a tribe that shares territory with citizens but only answers to our own kind. Everyone who’s part of the tribe has their place.”

“Okay,” I replied, wondering where this was going.

“Fuck, this is gonna piss you off and then you aren’t gonna let me stick my dick in you,” he muttered.

“Do you have to be so crude?” I snapped.

“Have you met me?”

“Who says I’d let you do it anyway?”

“Babe,” he replied in a low, rough voice, raising his eyebrow at me. I blushed. Okay, yes, I’d planned on it.

But that could change.

“So tell me.”

“Well, there’s two kinds of people, those who are in the club and those who aren’t,” he said. “If you’re in the club, you’re family, and we’ve got each other’s backs. You got a cut and three patches, you’re a member and you vote. We got prospects too, who aren’t full members yet, but if they don’t punk out, they will be eventually.”

“What about women?”

“No women in the club,” he said, shaking his head. “Women hang around the club, but they aren’t part of it.”

“Sounds pretty sexist.”

“It is what it is,” he replied with a shrug. “Don’t have to like it, but that’s the reality in the MC world. Remember, we don’t live in your world, we live in ours and the rules are different. Some clubs let women ride, ours doesn’t. We’re old school. Seriously old school. But that doesn’t mean women aren’t important to us.”

I didn’t like the direction this was headed.

“A man takes a woman, means to keep her, she becomes his property,” Horse continued. “We covered that before—it’s a sign of commitment, of respect. It means he’ll protect her and everyone else better keep their f*cking hands off her or be ready to fight him and all his brothers. You do not want to f*ck with a man’s old lady.”

“Sounds messed up, Horse.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated.