Reaper's Property (Reapers MC, #1)(25)

“You’re judging it by citizen standards, but we’re not like you,” he said. “Remember, we’re a tribe. We live together, we die together and what’s ours is ours. When times are good, we’re all good. Bad times, we may eat shit but we eat it together. Most people can’t handle that level of commitment. It’s like when you’re in combat and taking fire—you have to trust that your brothers would rather die than let you down. You feel that kind of brotherhood during war but when you come back home people expect you to sit down and work in an office like it never happened. Men—at least men like me—don’t work like that. I turned into something else in Afghanistan and I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. In the club, they don’t ask me to.”

“That’s intense,” I murmured.

“No shit,” he said. “I know this is hard for you, but I want you to understand. This is a different life, and we have our own rules and our own justice, but it’s not bad. In fact, it’s pretty f*ckin’ good. I got a nice house, make good money, have a great time almost every f*ckin’ day of my life. I’m alive, babe. Ninety-nine percent of men are okay with following the rules and doing what they’re told. We’re the other one percent, so we built our own world with our own rules. You don’t f*ck with us, we won’t f*ck with you. But once you f*ck us, you will pay.”

I shivered, even though the air was warm. I reached over and grabbed my shirt, pulling it over my head. Horse’s eyes followed me, holding an expression I couldn’t begin to fathom.

“So finish it,” I said, breaking the silence. “You’re telling me this for a reason, I guess. What does sweet butt mean?”

“Well, not all women attached to the club are old ladies,” he said bluntly. “Being an old lady is a big deal, like I said. You don’t want to take some skank as your property if you aren’t ready to throw down for her. But a man’s still gotta get laid. That’s what sweet butts are for.”

Oh, I didn’t like the sound of that.

“Continue,” I said, my voice cooling.

“We got women who want to be old ladies,” he said. “Or just like hanging around bikers. Maybe they want a place to crash for a while. They come around the club house and if they make themselves friendly enough we let them hang around. They clean up, take care of shit, and we sort of—”

He paused, looking away.

“You’re really not gonna like this,” he muttered.

“Tell me. Now.”

“Well, they’re pretty much public *,” he said. “Man needs a woman, that’s what they’re for. Entertaining the brothers. Those are the sweet butts.”

I saw red.

“You jerk!”

I got up and went for my pants. He reached for me, but I slapped his hand away, yanking up my jeans.

“You think I’m a whore!”

“No. I do not think you’re a whore. I told you, I like pissing you off sometimes, it’s hot. You aren’t a sweet butt either. You see any other guys around here? Not exactly lookin’ to turn you into Chinese handcuffs, Marie!”

“WHAT?” I didn’t even know what that meant, but I knew it wasn’t good. I finished getting dressed and grabbed my purse, pulling out my phone. Great. No service.

“Fuck,” Horse muttered, pulling on his pants and tee, then grabbing his cut and jerking it on. “You won’t even listen to me. You aren’t like them, babe. I know that. The guys know that. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then why did you all call me sweet butt the first time we met?” I demanded. “It’s not like we had anything between us then, so you didn’t do it just to piss me off. Explain that, Mr. Badass Reaper!”

He looked away, rubbing a hand along the stubble on his chin, then turned back to me.

“Because that’s what you looked like,” he said finally. “You were waiting outside that trailer decked out like a f*ckin’ wet dream. We knew Jeff didn’t have a woman, at least not one in particular. Just assumed, babe.”

“Take me home.”

“Babe, please.”

“Take. Me. Home.”

He turned away and kicked a rock, sending it into the hot springs with a splash, running his hands through his hair again. I wished he’d stop doing that, because it just made him look sexier and I didn’t need to think about him being sexy right now.

I needed to remember the man was a pig.

“Okay, I’ll take you home,” he grunted, turning back toward me. “But I want to show you something first.”

“By all means!” I declared grandly, throwing my arms wide. “Please, do whatever it takes to get me out of here and away from you.”

Horse stalked over to the leather saddlebag he’d brought and opened it. He stood there, staring down inside it for what seemed an eternity, then glanced back at me.

“You need to know that I didn’t just bring you here to f*ck you, Marie.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes.

“Don’t give me that shit,” he growled. “I can get laid whenever I want, I don’t have to drive four hundred miles round trip to get off. Women see the bike, they see the tats and the cut, they’re all over that shit. * is just *, but you’re different. That’s why I had this made for you—I wanted to ask you to come back with me, give club life a shot.”