Reaper's Property (Reapers MC, #1)(66)

“Try the .38, little Miss I-don’t-know-if-my-gun-is-big-enough. It’s what I like to carry, big enough to do some damage but small enough to be discreet.”

I picked it up. This one was heavier and my hand shook just a little as I aimed it. I lined up the sights, braced my body with one foot back and pulled the trigger. The pistol bucked and while I didn’t lose control, I didn’t like how it felt either. The gun seemed kind of wild to me, and I decided an even larger one would probably knock me on my ass.

“I see what you mean,” I said. “That one’s harder to hold.”

“Yup,” he said. “And they have more kick as you go up. I’d rather see you with a gun that feels comfortable. Otherwise you might hesitate to use it when you need it. It’s your choice and if I don’t have what you want, we’ll go find it.”

“I want to try the .38 one more time,” I said. He nodded, and I took my stance. This time when I shot, the shell casing flew back and hit my face, bouncing down my neck and into my cleavage.

“Holy shit!” I yelled, dropping the gun and jumping round, trying to shake the hot metal out of my clothing. It slid around, burning me until I managed to pull my bra away from my body and the shell casing fell to the ground.

“Jesus, Marie!” Horse said, picking up the gun. “You drop a gun like that it might go off. You could’ve killed yourself!”

I stood and looked at him, breathing hard.

“The casing burned me,” I said, my voice faint.

“Honey, that sucks, but it’ll hurt a lot more if you shoot yourself. Or me. If you’re gonna shoot me, I want to do something to earn it first. Seems only fair.”

“I think I’ll stick with the .22,” I said, biting my lip. He set down the gun and then shook his head, smiling at me.

“You’re not boring, you know that?”

“But you like that about me, right?” I asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I like it,” he replied, leaning down to kiss me. “Now practice loading your gun so you can shoot it some more. If you ever need it, I want it to be more than a paperweight.”

“Do you seriously think I’ll need a gun? Is life as an old lady really that rough?”

He shook his head.

“Probably not,” he replied. “No more than life is rough for any woman, depending on her circumstances. It’s an ugly world. But if you know how to use one, and you take it seriously, it’s not going to hurt you. You don’t and you need it? I couldn’t live with that, Marie. Shit, you needed it last night.”

That sobered me.

“What about Max?” I asked. “What happens with him?”

“That’s club business,” he replied. “You don’t ask—you trust me to take care of it. He’ll be punished and he definitely won’t bother you again. If he does, I’ll kill him.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I whispered. “You’d really kill him?”

“He f*cks with you, he’s dead. That’s the way it is. Enough questions—now show me how you load your gun, babe. We’re gonna practice every day until you’re comfortable with it, can do it without thinking. This gun is part of you now. You got me?”

“I got you.”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he replied ruefully, brushing back my hair and tucking it behind my ear. “No idea at all. Now let me watch you shoot. Chicks with guns are hot.”





Chapter Seventeen


December 10—Three months later



I’d love to say that things got easy after that. That every day was a new, perfect adventure and life with Horse was like living in a Disney movie with motorcycles instead of carriages.

That would be a big fat lie.

Horse had been by himself for a long time and he was in need of the occasional attitude adjustment. I’d already lived with one * and I wasn’t in the market for another one. He claimed I could be a raging bitch myself. I can’t say he was wrong about that.

But it was never boring.

For every bad time we had there were ten good ones, and they were very, very good. Horse and I had been working through his list of fantasies and I could attest to the fact that using the pink vibrator with him was a lot more fun than using it on my own. Gary had been a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. Horse was creative and the only thing he liked more than f*cking me was making me come.

This worked for me.

I didn’t learn what happened to Max. I knew he wasn’t around for all of October and most of November, although he reappeared at the Thanksgiving party, slinking around the armory like a half-drowned cat, all grumpy and defensive. The rest of the club seemed to ignore it, so I did too. It was okay. Not quite as good as castrating him with a dull spoon would have been, but life is all about compromises, right?

Especially life in the Reapers MC.

That was another thing I had to get used to. I hadn’t just moved in with Horse at his house. I’d moved into the club, which was as much a family as he’d said, albeit a really weird family. The heart of the club was the armory, a place I kept hearing about but couldn’t quite wrap my head around until I saw it the first time. Maggs called one morning to let me know we were having an impromptu barbeque. I was supposed to make a “shitload of that f*ckin’ great potato salad” (a direct quote from Picnic) and be ready at four when she’d come and get me.