Reaper's Fall (Reapers MC, #5)(4)

“Shut the f*ck up and go away.”

He frowned. I ignored him until he shuffled off like a kicked puppy, keeping my eyes on Puck as he drifted toward a cluster of skinheads. Always thought that was funny. They called him a mongrel behind his back, but when he had product they were happy to forgive Mr. Redhouse for his many sins against the Aryan race. I’d have laughed if I wasn’t so busy making sure nobody murdered him.

Just two more weeks.

Two more weeks in this shithole, then I’d be headed home to Coeur d’Alene. Back to my bike and my club. My brothers.

Melanie.

Pretty Melanie, driving around in my car because I’d felt guilty about leaving her alone without transportation that last night . . . Christ, thought I’d be loaning it to her for a couple days, and now she’d had it for a year. Ridiculous, but who was I kidding? I liked the idea of her in my car—of her thinking of me every day. Of her owing me.

Not like I needed the damned thing in prison.

I reached down, feeling the letter in my pocket, wondering what the hell I should tell her about the * trying to get into her pants. Wanted to say she should blow him off—he wasn’t good enough for her. She was too young, too soft, and too pretty for some twenty-year-old cocksucker looking to get his rocks off. He didn’t care about her, either—he just wanted to get laid. They all did. Maybe he’d grow out of it someday, although I had five years on him and I hadn’t yet.

I had no right to an opinion, though. She hardly knew me. We’d spent maybe eight hours together total, and trust me when I say there weren’t any happy endings. I’d given her a ride home, watched a movie with her. Taken her to dinner to get her out of the club’s way—it wasn’t even a particularly nice dinner, not like she deserved. She was nothing to me.

Fucking hell.

Puck glanced in my direction, offering a jerk of his chin. Deal was done. I pushed off the wall, wandering slowly toward him. Fester tried to follow me, but I shut him down with a dirty look. Just another day, exactly like every other I’d spent in here the last thirteen months.

Except it wasn’t.

Today I’d learned some prick was sniffing around Mellie, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it. For all I knew he was f*cking her right now, balls deep, telling her how much he loved her.

Jesus.

She’d probably fall for it, too.

Mel,

You know, I write these f*ckin’ letters to you, but they’re fake. I ask about your friends and your school and whether you’re meeting people. It’s bullshit, Mel.

Here’s my reality.

Yesterday I stabbed someone before he could stab me. Puck and I sold some shit to a bunch of white supremacists and we turned around and sold the same damned thing to some Mexicans. We had pudding with our dinner for dessert.

Then I jacked off three times thinking about you.

Those are the highlights. Like a fairy tale, right?

Remembering you keeps me going, which makes no f*cking sense at all. I hardly touched you. I still think about what you smelled like when you sat next to me on the couch, though. You were just this little thing and you shivered under my arm. I know you were scared of the movie and I could’ve picked something else, but I wanted the excuse to hold you.

That’s when I started thinking seriously about us f*cking.

I had this vision of shoving you into the cushions face-first, then ripping down your jeans and pushing so deep you’d feel it in the back of your throat. That’s the kind of guy I am, Mel, and that’s why you should stay the f*ck away from me.

You give me the chance, I’ll pin you down and keep pumping no matter how hard you try to get away. I dream about it every night, I jerk off to it, and today I gave serious thought to killing a man because he has the same fantasies about you as me. That first night, I promised London I wouldn’t touch you, but my cock had already been hard for hours. Good thing she showed up when she did—saved your ass. How’s that for luck?

When I took you to dinner, I was going to be good. Tried to be good. I know you didn’t understand why I asked you out or what it meant. They needed you out of the way, Mel. That was my job—to keep you busy. And I promised London I wouldn’t pull shit on you but she’d been lying to us all along and I kept wondering if that meant my promise didn’t count anymore.

Pretty damned sure it hasn’t counted for a while now.

You were talking and smiling and blushing. My dick was so stiff it nearly snapped in half when I tried to stand up. Took everything I had not to throw you on my bike and ride off with you . . . I want to tie you up and come in your ass and shove my cock down your throat until you choke. I want your hair in little-girl pigtails so I can hold on tight while I f*ck your face. I want you to cry and scream and give me everything. I want to f*cking OWN you. How’s that for reality, Mel? You still want my advice about boys?

I’m coming home soon. You should run away while you still can, Mel. I’ll make you dirty, so dirty you’ll never be clean again. I’ll make you pay me back the hard way. You think you’re all grown up, but you’re not. There’s so much I could teach you . . . do to you. Jesus, if you only knew, you’d never write to me again.

You should move to Alaska.

Change your name.

Good luck, though, because I’ll find you and take you and—

Fucking hell.