Reaper's Property(82)

“Thanks for everything today, babe,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to ride with Max. You made the right call though. We’ve spotted the Jacks a couple of times, they’re definitely planning something. It’ll be good to finish this out.”
I leaned back against him, drinking in his warmth and thinking about going back home together. I was tired of the armory. I just hoped they managed to get rid of the Jacks without hurting Jeff…
“Will it be dangerous?” I asked.
“Not if we do it right,” he said. “We’re not stupid and this isn’t the first time we’ve had to protect what’s ours. Don’t worry about it, babe. Tonight’s about Bagger.”
After a while I got cold, so I went inside to find Maggs and a bunch of women I didn’t know standing around the kitchen’s center island, passing a bottle of Jack Daniels. I didn’t feel much like drinking, but I joined the circle when Maggs waved me over. I was learning that the sisterhood of biker babes was bigger than I’d grasped. I saw respect and welcome in their eyes when she introduced me as Horse’s property, and for the first time the word didn’t bother me. It just meant something different to us than it did in the civilian world.
Us.
I was part of “us” now, I realized. These were my sisters, Horse was my man, and I could trust all the guys to keep an eye out for me, even Max. I still loathed him and he made my skin crawl, but he’d been watching out for me and Silvie in his own weird way today. It’d always been me and Mama and Jeff against the world—it felt good to have more.
An air horn sounded at nine, calling everyone outside to the bonfire. I followed the girls and found Horse again, tucking myself into his arms to keep warm as Picnic stepped out in front of everyone, solemn. Cookie stood not far away, flanked by Maggs and Dancer. She looked unsteady but determined. She still wore her black dress, but she’d put her “property” vest on over it, trading her heels for black leather boots.
“Tonight we say goodbye to a brother and a friend,” Picnic said, his voice hoarse. “He truly understood that brotherhood is forever and that no matter what happens in this life, a real man never walks away before the fight is finished. No matter what, we stand together. He gave his life standing with his brothers in Afghanistan and we’ll respect him for the rest of our lives.
“Bagger wore the Reapers’ patch for ten years and always brought it honor. When he left for his last deployment, he gave his colors to me to keep safe. He’s Freebird chapter now and he doesn’t need his patches anymore. It’s time to send them back to him. We won’t forget. Reapers forever, forever Reapers.”
A lot of the guys, including Horse, echoed his words like a mantra. Then everyone grew silent and the opening strains of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird started playing. Picnic stepped forward, holding up Bagger’s cut for all of us to see. He’d almost reached the fire when Cookie cried out.
“Wait!” she said, pulling away from Maggs. “Wait for me. Mine’s going with his. They belong together.”
I watched as she shrugged out of her “Property of Bagger, Reapers MC” vest and draped it over Bagger’s cut.
“They go together,” she said again, voice breaking. Picnic shook his head and Maggs came up to her, taking her arm.
“You’ll want it,” she said. “You aren’t thinking straight tonight. Bagger would want you to keep it.”
“It belongs with his,” Cookie replied, her voice fierce. She and Picnic stared each other down for a minute as the song played, then he jerked his head once in acquiescence. Cookie sighed in relief and let Maggs pull her away, unsteady on her feet again, as if she’d used up all her energy on this final chore. The song soared around us as Picnic threw the two sets of patched leathers into the fire. All around me I heard women sniffling. Men blinked quickly, their eyes suspiciously moist. All too soon the song ended and the leather cuts were lost in the flame.
It was official. Bagger had left the Reapers behind.

I stood in the bathroom off the game room an hour later, fiddling with my hair and wishing I could leave. Horse needed space and wanted to be with his brothers. The women were friendly but I didn’t know most of them and I didn’t want to intrude on their grief. The toilet flushed behind me and Cookie stepped out of the stall.
“Hey,” I said, not sure what to say. I didn’t want to ask her how she felt or offer some empty platitude.
“Hey,” she murmured, washing her hands. She looked in the mirror and then glanced at the door. She took a deep breath and touched my arm.
“I need to get out of here,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “Can you take me home? Everyone’s drunk and I can’t find anyone to drive me. Are you sober? You look sober.”
“Yeah,” I said, startled. “You really want to leave? Everyone’s here for you—”
“No, I need to go right now,” she said, shaking her head with unnatural composure. “I’m holding on by a thread and if I have to listen to his name or any more stories I’m going to fall apart and I don’t want an audience. Not only that, they all say I shouldn’t be alone tonight and probably won’t let me leave. That’s not working for me. I’m not going to do anything stupid, but I can’t handle listening to a party when all I can think about is my husband lying cold and dead in the ground a mile from my house. Will you take me home?”
There was only one answer to a statement like that.