Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(108)

Puck exploded.

Jesus.

So f*cking good. Fucking perfect.

For a moment he just lay in the dark, free in that instant. What a joke.

Too bad his little mama wasn’t real. And she wasn’t. Because here he was, stuck alone in the dark with two other men, one of whom was half in love with some bitch he’d probably never touch. Nope. Painter wouldn’t make a move even after they got out. Precious Melanie was too pretty and perfect up on her pedestal to get dirty, Puck figured.

As for Fester? He liked to eat his own crayons.

Pathetic. Both of them. Puck needed to get out, sometimes thought he’d go crazy if he didn’t get out.

Two weeks.

Fourteen days.

Puck wiped off his hand and pulled up his pants. After tonight, only thirteen days left.

“Those was definitely her little titties pokin’ through that dress,” Fester whispered.

“God damn it!”

Painter was out of bed and across the room in a heartbeat, dragging dumbass out of bed so hard that Puck’s bunk shook.

“Don’t do it,” Puck snapped. “You f*ck him up, could mess with our parole.”

Painter stilled.

“You don’t talk about her,” he said finally, dropping the other man to the floor. Fester gave a high, nervous giggle.

Two weeks.

Fourteen days.

Mouth. Cunt. Ass.





AUTHOR’S NOTE: Many readers have asked me to write about what happens to various Reapers and their ladies after their stories have been told. This bonus epilogue gives a sneak peek of the club’s future without revealing any spoilers for the books ahead. That being said, it also ends with a bit of a tease for a storyline that won’t be addressed or resolved in the next book. I let the readers on my fan page vote on whether I should share it with you, and they were overwhelmingly in favor of including it. Read at your own risk.





BONUS EPILOGUE


NINE YEARS LATER

JESSICA

“Jessica Amber Armstrong.”

I took a deep breath and stood up, my advisor at my side, her brightly colored academic robes fluttering like flags in the light breeze. We climbed up onto the outdoor stage, and I looked out to see London, Reese, Mellie, and all the others watching me, pride written all over their faces. When they’d come in—full Reapers colors on display—everyone had gotten out of their way quick. Worked out well, too. Now they had the front two rows all to themselves.

Reese caught my eye and winked. I smiled back, then turned toward my graduate advisor, lowering myself so she could put the academic hood over my head. Right up to that point I was doing great—just one more step in the march toward my master’s in special education . . . But then she smoothed the silk across my shoulders and whispered, “We’re so proud of you, Jessica. I’ve never had a student work harder than you have.”

That’s when I lost it.

I turned back toward the audience, tears running down my face. Most of them would never know what I’d had to overcome to get this far—what I still had to overcome every day of my life. The checks and balances I’d put into place to keep myself from making impulsive decisions. The surgeries to maintain my shunt. The fact that every time I looked down at my hand and missing finger, I was reminded that evil is a real thing that exists in our world, all around us.

I’d use all of it to help my students, I vowed. Every bit of suffering, every stupid decision I’d ever made, every hour of physical pain I’d endured. Every time someone made fun of me for being “slow.” I knew better now. I wasn’t slow—I was different, and that difference was what made me one of the best f*cking special education teachers in the state.

They weren’t making fun of me anymore.

The dean shook my hand as London and Reese and all the others started whooping and hollering for me. That got them some looks, but I didn’t give a shit. They were my people, and they’d been there for me when I needed them.

Now it was my turn to make them all proud.

? ? ?

We’d blown off the formal reception at the University of Idaho in favor of a party out at Spring Valley Reservoir. Not all the club had been able to make it down, but enough were there that the Moscow chapter had come out to welcome us. One of the local brothers had a barrel smoker, which was already full of ribs. London was in her element, bossing all the old ladies around and making sure the food would be perfect. Not a single paper napkin was out of place.

Mellie took off right after the hooding ceremony, which sucked. She had to work later in the afternoon, but the fact that she’d driven down at all meant everything to me. Her path hadn’t been the easiest over the years, but we’d both made it through, friendship intact.

“Auntie Jess, will you braid my hair?” asked Kylie, Em’s youngest. She was two weeks shy of her fourth birthday, but in her mind she was already a full-on adult. “Mama said she needed to help Daddy with something in the tent. I’m not s’posed to bother her.”

I snickered. Yeah, I’ll bet he needed “help” with something, all right.

“Sure, c’mon over to the table.”

We sat down and I finger-combed her hair, looking out across the beach. Marie, Sophie, and Jina were watching over a gaggle of kids and working on their tans. With the exception of Horse, most of the brothers were up drinking beer and supervising the smoker. He’d let the little ones—led by his oldest boy, who I swear was cockier than he was—bury him in the sand. Probably just waiting to explode up and chase them all into the water.