Reaper's Property(25)

Holy shit.
“Are you kidding me?” I demanded.
His face tightened, eyes growing cold.
“Never offered this to anyone else, babe. Not a joke.”
“Well, don’t offer it to me,” I hissed. “I hardly know you, but what I do know is that you’re a sexist pig and you can go f*ck yourself and your stupid club.”
“Don’t insult the club, Marie.”
Something in his tone stopped me mid-rant. All traces of my sweet Horse were gone and the scary biker stood in front of me in full standoff. My anger disappeared, replaced with terrible unease. I’d forgotten how terrifying he could be.
“Let’s stop this,” I said after a pause. “What we’re doing, there’s nothing good here. Let’s just stop talking and leave before things get worse.”
“Works for me. Get your shit.”
Funny, but hiking to the spring had taken about thirty minutes. Hiking back felt like ten hours. The ride home was even worse. I worried about falling off the bike the whole time, but I’d be damned if I was going to wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his back like before. I held the sides of his hips, trying to keep my lower body from touching his, which was all but impossible.
When we reached the trailer he didn’t even bother getting off his Harley, let alone watch to see if I got in the door all right.
Horse just roared away without looking back.


Chapter Eight

Sept. 7
Me: Are you there?

Sept. 9
Me: Horse, we should talk. I don’t want us to hate each other. I think we made a mistake, please call me. I miss you. Let’s fix this

Sept 10
Me: Are you even getting these? Please, even if you hate me, call me. I need to tell you something

Sept. 13
Me: Okay, you win. Bye

Sept. 15
Things got a little dark after our trip to the hot springs.
Work was okay, but it wasn’t like I loved what I was doing. Don’t get me wrong, the kids were awesome, but it’s tiring to be surrounded by little people constantly when they can’t even wipe their own rear ends. And sometimes diapers blow out, which means exactly what you’d think.
Good times.
Life with Jeff wasn’t going very well either. It’s not like we didn’t get along, because we did. We didn’t fight or anything. But he’d stopped talking to me, didn’t seem to work much and smoked more pot every day. I had my first hint of real trouble coming when he asked me how big my paycheck was. By this time I was buying all the food, which I didn’t mind. After all, he’d floated me when I first got here, and when I’d gotten hurt too. But it wasn’t like him to mooch, believe it or not. He’d always paid his way and I’m pretty sure he’d carried Mom a time or two.
Things came to a head right after the Reapers visited us again, this time without Horse. Jeff didn’t warn me and it was hard to tell whether the visit was planned or not. I’d learned my lesson—don’t ask questions unless you want to hear the answers. Honestly, I didn’t think there were any good answers to the questions I had about their business relationship.
I came home from work to find bikes in the driveway. Horse’s wasn’t there. We were totally out of food and beer because I hadn’t done my grocery shopping for the week, and I sighed in frustration. I decided to go and buy pizza instead of cooking because I had a little extra cash. I just didn’t feel up to whipping something together.
I walked in to find Picnic, Bam Bam, Max and Jeff standing around the kitchen bar in tense silence.
“Um, hi?” I asked, setting down my purse.
“Hey, Marie,” Picnic said, and while his voice wasn’t friendly, it wasn’t cold either. I guess Horse didn’t go home and talk too much shit about me. “Just talking some business here.”
“Yeah, I see that,” I replied. “How ’bout I go and grab some pizzas? Sound good?”
“Sounds great, Marie,” Bam Bam said. He reached around to his wallet, pulling out some bills and offering them to me. I was stunned.
“You don’t have to do that,” I murmured.
“Take the money and don’t forget beer,” Picnic said, his voice short. Arguing with them didn’t seem like a good idea, so I grabbed the bills and retreated. I took my sweet time getting the pizzas. I really, really didn’t want to come back home too early, but after hanging out at the takeout place for forty-five minutes I got a text from Jeff telling me all was clear. I grabbed the pies and drove home, hoping Jeff’s weirdness lately wasn’t connected to the Reapers. I kept hearing Horse’s voice in my head.
Fuck with us and we will f*ck you back.
Jeff wouldn’t be that stupid, would he?
When I got back, I had another of those surreal moments that seemed to happen around the Reapers with alarming frequency. Earlier I would have sworn things were ugly between them and Jeff. Now everyone was friendly—practically jolly—and they welcomed me (or rather, the pizzas I carried) with the kind of cheer usually reserved for returning war heroes. I tried to give Bam Bam his change, but he wouldn’t take it, telling me to use it for gas.
The evening followed a familiar pattern. We ate together and then they sat around drinking beer while I cleaned up. As the night went on, the jokes got dirtier. I drank several beers. They built a bonfire. Someone suggested tequila shots. I don’t usually do shots, but it seemed like a fantastic idea when viewed through my beer goggles. But I’d been up since early that morning and I had to be up again at seven to get ready for work, so eventually I decided to hit the sack.